It was 3 am in the still of the night when Caitlin Snow bolted up from her bed, breathing heavily and feeling like as if she had just ran a marathon, her heart beating so loudly it felt like it was going to burst out of her chest.
They were the same dreams as the nights before. A dark carpark, dark corridors. She'd see a red glow, and she would follow it until it stopped. She would recognise that silhouette, there was no mistaking it for she had seen him come and go practically everyday in the last few years of the life. Then one day, he would never came back, and she would never see him walking towards or away from her again. Until a week ago.
The glow from his hands burned brighter, she saw the black of his irises before fire burned in his eyes. Then it was like the fire engulfed him, but he was not burning. In her dreams, with every step she took towards him, he would burn more fiercely, until she realised she could no longer move any closer to him.
Don't come looking for me.
Then he would fly off in a burst of flames, and she felt it burn, hotter and brighter. And that was when she would wake up. Every single night, on a constant loop, it always ended like that. He always left, and it always burned.
Taking a few deep breaths to steady her racing heart, she brushed her hair from her face and realised her cheeks were damp. She had been crying in her sleep again, somehow during the course of her dreams she had started crying.
A week ago when she had first discovered that Ronnie was still alive, when the scene first played itself out in reality, only one thought consumed her at that point in time. She needed, desperately, to get to Ronnie for fear of losing him again. But as nights passed and she began reliving her reality in her dreams, every night as she stood looking into his eyes, she no longer recognised those burning eyes. She no longer recognised the person in front of her. Even though he came back physically, the man she once knew never returned to her. And what was what always made her cry.
And like every other night, she could no longer fall back to sleep. Instead, she threw off her duvet and fumbled around for her robes and headed for the kitchen. Tea, she needed tea. No matter how American she can be, how her day could never be deemed as started until she had her morning latte, tea is always appropriate when a situation arises. It was something so British that she had picked up when living in London with her Aunt for a couple of years. Like every other night, she found comfort in her steaming mug of tea.
Caitlin pulled her robe tighter around her as she settled herself on the couple window seat in her living room, lightly pulling apart the day curtains she could look out at the street, the glow of the moonlight spilling into the room.
It was then she noticed the silence of her apartment was punctuated with the rhythmic breathing of someone fast asleep. Her lips pursed into a small smile as she glanced over to her couch, where a sleeping Barry Allen lay under the spare duvet made by her late Grandma Snow, with one leg hanging off the edge.
Barry, dear, sweet Barry, how could she forget? After three days of sleepless nights, when she could no longer deny the presence of her prominent eye-bags and explain why she kept breaking beakers in the lab, Barry and Cisco finally got het to admit that she had been having trouble sleeping. They knew it had to be because of the sudden reappearance of Ronnie, although she never told them the details of her dreams. Since then, both Barry and Cisco have been taking turns sleeping on her couch, and Caitlin usually found them still awake when she crept to her kitchen. Seems like sleep debt has caught up with Barry, even for someone with superhuman metabolism.
Lost in her thoughts, she did not realise that pulling open the day curtains caused the moonlight to fall on Barry's face, and the light was caused him to stir, slowly awakening. Barry sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and noticed Caitlin sitting by the window with her usual mug of tea. Wrapping the duvet around him, Barry walked over to the window seat to join Caitlin.
"You were supposed to wake me up. I'm so sorry I fell asleep," Barry said quietly.
"Couldn't bring myself to wake you up. You must be exhausted, and all for me. Besides, I'm fine sitting by myself," replied Caitlin.
Barry brought his face closer to hers, looking into her eyes, "You've been crying," he stated matter-of-factly. His brows knitted together in realisation, "You've been having nightmares, haven't you? It's not insomnia, something's haunting your thoughts in your sleep."
Caitlin broke eye contact and turned away, looking out at the street again and saying nothing.
Barry studied her profile in the moonlight, her chestnut hair tousled from sleep and her bright hazel eyes, the lope of her nose and the curve of her lips. He saw the sadness in her eyes, the tension in her pursed lips. When Barry first met Caitlin, he barely saw her smile. But then they started working together, he started running as The Flash, and he gradually saw a smile creep onto her face whenever he raced back to STAR Lab after a mission, he began to hear the lilt of her voice over the comms. He first heard her laugh when he realised he could never get drunk on normal alcohol anymore. Then a week ago, Ronnie happened.
Barry realised he really missed Caitlin's smile, the sound of her laugh.
He spotted a guitar propped by the side of her living room and had an idea. "Hey Caitlin, may I?" Barry asked, gesturing to the guitar.
Caitlin turned to where Barry was pointing and noticed the guitar. "Yeah sure, go ahead," she waved her hand dismissively, "Although I have not played that in about a year and it's probably not tuned."
She watched as Barry retrieved the guitar from the corner of her living room and settled himself on her couch, fiddling and tuning the guitar. When he was done, he flashed her a grin and patted the space beside him. She rolled her eyes and walked over to sit beside him, settling her mug of tea on the coffee table.
"Close your eyes," Barry instructed, and Caitlin did.
She heard the beginning chords of a familiar song, a song that while always brought her comfort, has recently become associated with a bittersweet feeling as well. But no one knew it was her song, because she only played when she knew she was alone in the lab, and when she needed some time to just kick of her heels and be alone for the melody of the music to wash over her and remove the stress from the day. The fact that Barry somehow knew her song, and knew that she needed it right now made her tear.
When Barry played the last chord, he turned to look at Caitlin and noticed the glazed look in her eyes. Quickly, he set the guitar down and enveloped Caitlin in a hug.
"It wasn't supposed to make you cry," he told her.
"That song, always reminds me of someone so special to me. It reminds me of how happy I am to see that person, maybe battered up but alive at the end of the day. It reminds me of how close I came to losing that person, how close I came to failing that person as part of the team, but I didn't," she admitted, allowing her tears to now fall freely. "Barry, I only play this at the end of the day when you come back from fighting some meta-human that scares me into thinking that one day, one day, I'm going to lose you to him. And I need to remind myself that it will never happen because I believe in you."
Barry cupped her face in his hands and wiped way her tears with his thumb, never looking away from her eyes. He then leaned forward and kissed her on her forehead, holding his lips there for a few seconds before letting her go.
"You're right, I've been having dreams, actually nightmares really," Caitlin continued. "They come every night, and they are always the same." So Caitlin opened up to Barry about her dreams, and he just sat there holding her hand as she talked, rubbing his thumb in circles on the back of her hand in reassurance.
The next Caitlin remembered was being lulled awake by the tweeting of birds, the sunlight shining in through her window and the steady heartbeat under the ears. The time on her wall clock said 8.30am, and she realised that she must have talked to Barry until they were both exhausted and she fell asleep with her head on his chest, and his arm still around her. Her eyes widened when she realised she had slept through the rest of the night, no more dreams of fire, and had awoken feeling well rested. In fact, her subconsciousness had given her comfort in reminding her of the aftermath.
Caitlin barely registered the flash of red out of the corner of her eyes before she felt her knees buckle beneath her, anticipating the crash to the ground but not finding the strength in her to do anything about it. Instead, she felt a pair of arms encircle her and lowering her to the ground as her mind blanked out, and she could barely feel, let alone cry. All she knew was that she could not stop shaking. Warm hands brushed the hair out of her face and green eyes stared into her empty hazel ones before those same arms from before embraced her in a hug, those hands stroking her hair.
"I'm here Caitlin!" came Barry's anxious voice. "I'm here, " he repeated, this time whispering into her ear, "I'm here, I've got you. I've always got you, don't you worry. I'm always here for you, and I won't let anything or anyone hurt you." And at that moment, Caitlin felt a warmth spread through her, and she knew she would be okay.
"Morning," Caitlin turned and saw that Barry was awake, with a small smile on his face.
"Good morning," she replied.
Barry sat up and notice something different with her. Her eyes looked brighter, her shoulders looked less heavy, her lips looked less tense.
"No more dreams?" he asked, cocking his eyebrow.
"Oh, I still have dreams, but dreams of the aftermath. I remember you saving me that night, " Caitlin replied as Barry's face softened, "No more nightmares. I slept really well."
Then Caitlin broke out into a huge smile, the kind that showed all your teeth, and Barry's heart leapt to see her smile again. He grinned as he leaned forward and kissed her, full on her lips.