A/N: Episode tag for 2x06. Hurt/comfort, can be read as friendship or pre-ship. Content warning for stress and panic attack.
Kindly betaread by nezzyy22. Apologies for any medical inaccuracies, I'm not in medicine and internet research only goes so far.
She'd patched up Barry too many times to count, too many missions gone awry that had him beaten and bloody, but he always woke up, always smiled up at her, however weakly it was, only a little less light and bright for his pain. This time she'd waited anxiously, having seen the footage just like everyone else and having seen Zoom hurt him in front of them, taunting them with how breakable he was.
This time Barry doesn't smile. She feels a little foolish for the metaphorical leap of joy she has at seeing him awake, happiness that flourishes despite how grim his expression and the situation is. She'd known he'd pull through, he always did, he had to. Her relief is shortlived when Barry tells them with a touch of panic evident in his voice, that he can't feel his legs. She tries her very best to placate him, she tells him they'll figure it out, that it will be fine. Of course she doesn't know that for certain, but she hopes, and she runs every single relevant test so she has as much info as possible.
When she finds the cause of his distress, right there on the scans, from T12 to L1, she realizes there is likely nothing she can do, it's down to Barry's body alone. He takes the news calmly and quietly, but she can see the frustration simmering behind the brief, blunt words he utters to show he understands what this means. She hopes knowing what is wrong is some small form of comfort, like she imagines it would be for her, even if they can't know if he will heal this.
After all the tests, after she has done everything possible for Barry as his doctor, she goes to the ladies restroom, knowing no one will look for her there. The only person who might intrude on her here is Iris but Barry hadn't wanted visitors tonight; S.T.A.R. Labs is mercifully empty except for her, Barry, and Harry, who had made himself scarce, hiding away from their shared failure in one of the labs. She'd insisted Cisco go home and get some sleep so at least one of them would be well rested in case of further emergencies.
So Caitlin sits in a cubicle and cries, letting go of all her pent up stress. The magnitude of events floods her mind once more, a wash of horror coming back to her - the same feeling of dread is creeping back in as when she had first seen Barry lying there in the cortex, before she had known if he was even alive. At the time her training had kicked in, pushing back her initial terror. She knows her body is now crashing from the adrenaline that had spurred her actions. The crisis is over.
Between shaky breaths she reminds herself Barry is fine, he's alive, that's what matters, but even as she settles her emotions bit by bit, her brain is stuttering on an old thought that keeps rising to the surface of her consciousness. A thought that has haunted her, sticking in the back of her mind, every time she tends to his injuries. She can mend him, set his bones right, stitch up his cuts, even drug him into oblivion with a boatload of meds if he really needs to sleep, to rest, but she can't take away the pain as it happens, that she is too late for.
And this time, he'd had to have felt his back breaking. Her stomach lurches at the thought of all the trauma he's been through as the Flash, but she squashes down that feeling the best she can because she can't do a single thing about it. She can only be there for the aftercare, picking up the pieces, hoping they can still put him back to together. She cries a bit more, just to get it all out of her system, before patting at her eyes with some toilet tissue and then fixing her makeup, trying to get back her composure.
When she feels satisfied she's presentable again she walks out of the bathroom and tries to collect her thoughts on what to do next. When she realizes she's too fuzzy to really do anything she decides it's time to take her own advice, she needs to crash, properly, in a bed. She could sleep on a cot here but the panic in her veins is telling her to run away, to get away from the too fresh memory of blood on the floor not so far from here. It makes her feel ashamed, especially since she knows she won't be any safer at her apartment, nowhere is safe from Zoom. Despite that, she rationalizes that her own bed and a change of clothes sounds pretty sensible. She texts Cisco to come take over watch and orders an Uber, not trusting herself to drive when she feels out of sorts and sleep deprived. She means to go check on Barry, she ought to, yet the thought of seeing him - seeing his disheartened self – starts to break her composure again. She checks his vitals remotely on Cisco's app on her phone. There's nothing else she can do anyway.
''Morning," she says to him, flicking her eyes over his stats from the night on the computer logs, rather than look at him directly. She already knows nothing really bad came up or her phone alerts would have woken her. She doesn't have the heart to add 'good' to the front of her greeting. She slept awfully and she senses today isn't going to be pleasant. Her plan is to repeat the tests, and she hopes desperately they might show some difference, some slither of good news, but she doesn't know, she might be clutching at straws relying on his healing. She has to try regardless.
''You didn't say goodbye last night,'' Barry says very simply. Said by anyone else she might think it was an accusation, and normally she'd think he was teasing her but his tone isn't like either of those things, more like a touch curious, maybe even concerned despite his own problems.
''Sorry, I was tired, I forgot."
She doesn't look at him as she lies, too afraid to be found out and to have to explain she couldn't see him then without possibly bursting back into tears. Nor does she look at him as she takes his blood pressure, only eventually glancing up to smile at him reassuringly when she reports it as perfectly normal.
Barry doesn't say all that much, unusually for him, as she ferries either him or equipment around to do all the tests once again. When she reads the checklist of tests again and sees the final item, she grimaces.
''Let me guess, another spinal tap?'' He asks already knowing the answer, ''Just my luck that I can still feel that.''
''I'm really sorry, Barry.''
She tries to keep her voice even as she replies, without any of the tinge of regret she feels at causing him even more pain, but there's a troubled look on his face that makes her attempt at keeping her calm and collected demeanor fall short. She coughs and turns away, readying the needle on the tray. Luckily he is distracted as she rolls him into position and starts the procedure, doing her best to ignore the grunt of pain and his labored breathing as she completes it.
''All done,'' she tells him, as she carefully moves him back into position on the bed, wishing it made her feel better to have finished. The tests won't help though, they're just another snapshot in time of how he is, not a treatment or a fix, and it makes her feel like she is failing him when all they can do is wait and see.
She packs up the equipment in silence and is halfway to the door when he calls out to her.
''Cait, can you stay? For a little while? Please.'' He asks sounding so sincerely in need of something, of what that is she's not sure. She remembers when she asked him to stay with her that one night until she fell asleep. Of course, she was drunk, not beaten, broken and in pain. It's the least she can do if it will make him feel a little better, though the timing isn't the best.
''I've just got to go check the results but sure, once that's done, I'll stay with you for as long as you like.''
When she comes back in later, results in hand, ready to tell him some actual good news now she's analyzed all the data - that he has healed, just a bit, just enough to give her hope this isn't permanent - he appears to be asleep. After checking his stats she's ready to turn around and go, but instead she finds herself pausing by his bedside, annoyed at herself for inadvertently breaking her promise, even if it was for good reason. She reaches out, puts her hand on his only to find his fingers suddenly curl around hers unexpectedly and he opens his eyes. Only resting then, rather than sleeping like she'd assumed. She jumps a little at the touch, trying to withdraw her hand but Barry doesn't let go instantly, giving her a sleepy looking smile and her hand a slight squeeze before he releases his grip.
''Thought you'd forgotten about me,'' he says, most definitely teasing her at least a little this time, though she thinks she sees a flicker of doubt in his expression too.
''That would be quite hard to do, Mr Allen. Especially when I have such good news for you.''
He perks up, eyebrows raised in surprise, and goes as if to try to sit up, though she has to put a hand out to stop him.
''Hey, hey, not so fast. You need to keep still for a few hours after the procedure.''
He rolls his eyes a little, clearly impatiently but lets her guide him back down gently to lie flat on his back again. He stares up at her, deploring her to let him know what's going on, ''Tell me, please tell me I'm going to get better.''
''Slowly but you are. You're healing, Barry.'' She's so grateful to be able to say so and he grins back at her, a burst of happiness, but then it falters.
''Why don't you look happy? What aren't you telling me?''
''Nothing! I mean, nothing about your healing. We won't know for certain for a while but I am pretty sure you will recover.''
She swallows down the remnant of fear she feels at the small chance that he won't entirely heal and Barry stares at her, puzzled. It's like he's studying her, like he wants to figure out what's going on in her head. She wonders if he can see that in her eyes, if he can understand the guilt that goes with this, to not be able to help him. The longer he looks at her, not saying anything, the more she feels like she ought to say something but she feels frozen in place, until he reaches out to her, his hand grasping her once more and gently pulling her closer. She sits down on the edge of the bed, not facing him, staring through the doorway instead. Somehow she can't face him right now, for much the same reason she hadn't thought she could the night before. For a while now, since they'd warmed up to each other, they've had an easy sense of friendship, able to talk about pretty much anything, yet this is difficult to admit. It might well be because it's hard to accept and saying it out loud makes it all the more real, more frightening.
'''It's just...He hurt you, Barry. I know I see you get hurt all the time. This, this was different. He hurt you so bad, I thought you might die and then he hurt you in front of me, in front of us all, and he would have killed you if not for Cisco.'' She turns back to Barry, finally facing him as she admits what's gotten to her about this, ''I couldn't do anything then and I can't do anything now. I can't speed this up. I'm sorry I have to keep poking and prodding you, causing you pain when you've already had so much.''
She hears her voice crack as she struggles to get what she wants to say out and she can feel the tears forming, so she turns away, shifts her position as if to get up, signaling her intent to leave. All she wants in that moment is to retreat to solitude where she can deal with things on her own.
'''I'm sorry, I'm not helping. I'm just making it worse, which is the last thing you need.''
The first tears fall, rolling down her cheeks, she wipes them away with her free hand, no way he couldn't notice that, and tries to get up, to make a swift exit with minimum embarrassment, but she finds he holds on. Has been holding on, holding her hand throughout her blundering confession, like he's anchoring her. She hadn't realized what a comfort it was until this moment. His hand is warm and his grip strong, reminding her of what matters, Barry is okay, he's alive and as he looks up at her she can't see a trace of blame or annoyance on his face. He smiles at her, a little weakly perhaps, clearly still down himself but he smiles in a way she knows so well, the kind of smile that reaches his eyes.
He looks so earnest as he speaks, ''You said you'd stay. I want you to stay.''
In the end she doesn't know if it's more comfort for her or for him. Probably both. She likes that thought. She might feel helpless but as she sits at his side, holding his hand, trying to talk about meaningless things to lighten the mood, distract them, she doesn't feel alone and that's something.