Hello friends! Even in the absence of Flash last night, the writing continues. This is a bit toward the fluffier side, but with some angst thrown in (because I can't help it).
I struggled to find Caitlin's actual age, so I made a guess and went with it. If anyone knows for sure how old she is, let me know!
While this fic takes place across both seasons and into the near future, there are no real spoilers here (except a few vague Vibe references). Enjoy!
On her twenty-third birthday, nobody remembers.
She figures that maybe Cisco, at least, would reach out, but she supposes it's so close to the particle accelerator explosion that nobody's really thinking about anything as insignificant as a birthday. There are much more important things to think about, like the stranger who's taken residence in their old lab for two months and counting. If she's being honest with herself, he's probably not waking up. At least, not as the same person.
And if she's being honest with herself, she doesn't want a birthday celebration. She doesn't want to think about attempting to be cheerful. The attention would feel undeserved, perverse, because the last attention she got was at the funeral for her fiancé.
She decides to stay the night at the lab with the stranger. At least he won't try to offer her birthday cake or false encouragement. He doesn't even know it's her birthday.
It's quiet there, in the darkness, just a body in a bed and a birthday girl.
On her twenty-fourth birthday, she and Cisco and Barry go to a bar.
"Singani in the Rain?" Caitlin says as they approach. "What kind of a name is that?"
"An awesome one," Cisco insists. "Come on, first drink is on me."
"Aren't all drinks supposed to be on you?" she teases. "It's my birthday, after all."
"You can have mine," Barry groans. "Maybe I can get sugar-drunk on Pepsi."
They situate themselves at a table and order their drinks, and Caitlin feels the warm glow of happiness spark through her. It's something she's getting more accustomed to, now that she and Cisco and Barry and Wells are doing what they do. Happiness is no longer a cold, distant thing. She takes a tequila shot with Cisco and actually giggles.
Shortly after, a woman takes to the stage holding a microphone, and Cisco punches her in the arm.
"See, I told you this place was awesome!"
"Are you serious?" Caitlin says. The tinny opening notes of some Celine Dion song fill the space, and she takes another drink. "Nice try, Cisco, but there is no way in hell I'll ever be drunk enough to do karaoke."
On her twenty-fifth birthday, she finds herself in a basement, tied to a chair.
And not in a good way.
"You could've at least had the decency to abduct me the day after my birthday," she says. She's not usually this mouthy toward supervillains, but the timing is really pissing her off. "Or the day before. I'm not picky."
"Quiet," the woman says. Her hair, spiked blue at the tips, frizzes out in an ironic halo around her head. Probably from all of the electricity she generates. Caitlin learned that one the hard way.
"You're no match for him," Caitlin says casually. "The Flash, I mean. He's going to rescue me. And hopefully drop me off at a spa for the remainder of the weekend."
"Oh, I'm intending for him to come," says the woman with a sneer. "That's exactly what I want."
"That's what all of them say," Caitlin says. "Trust me, this isn't my first time being kidnapped by a psychopath."
Forgoing the electricity, the woman strikes out with her fist and catches Caitlin in the cheek. Caitlin pauses for a minute, stunned. Recovers. She doesn't want to face the roiling fear that's been hiding beneath her calm exterior. She refuses.
Then, a flash of lightning, and the world explodes. She's too slow to see what happens, but she knows what the red and gold signify. In moments, it's over, and Barry's kneeling at her side, working at the knots that bind her wrists to the chair.
"Are you okay?" he asks. At her wrists, his fingers tremble uncharacteristically.
"Not the best way to spend a birthday," she says. Despite her throbbing cheek, she flashes him a smile that she hopes is reassuring. "But I suppose not the worst way."
On her twenty-sixth birthday, Cisco tells her that Barry is missing.
She's just stepped into the lab at the end of the day, fully intending to meet up with her friends and head out for a night of celebration. She's dressed up, with stupid glittery eyeshadow at the corners of her eyes, and immediately she feels out of place.
"What do you mean, he's missing?" she says.
"I didn't want to alarm you," Cisco says, but she can tell he's panicking, he's been panicking, because he's white as a ghost and shaking. "I was supposed to meet up with him this morning, plan out a surprise party for you—"
"He never came in?" Caitlin says, and immediately she's at the desk of the cortex, pulling up Barry's chart. But Cisco nudges her. Barry's suit is still there in the cortex.
"I've tried calling him, but he didn't pick up. The last anyone saw of him was last night. Joe just went to his apartment and found his phone." Cisco looks like he's going to throw up, but Caitlin's numb. Suddenly the computers seem useless, her fancy dress an offense.
"You think he's been kidnapped?" she says, feeling the words disintegrate like sawdust in her mouth. "Or…or…?"
"Let's not assume the worst," Cisco says, but it's clear by the tightness in his voice that he is. "Joe's on his way over. We'll find him, Caitlin, I swear—we'll tear apart the city, we'll—"
A crackle of wind causes Caitlin to scream.
"Hey, guys," Barry pants. "Sorry I'm late." His shirt is rumpled, the bottoms of his jeans soaked. He stands there in the middle of the cortex, oblivious.
Caitlin is stunned for a moment, then she vaults out of her chair and flings herself around him.
"Watch the cake!" he says, throwing out the arm that is currently supporting a very large orange confection but not moving from the spot. Caitlin hugs him for an eternity, embracing his solidity, while he stands confused. He's warm, and his shirt is damp with sweat. He smells like salt. "What did I do to deserve this?"
"Where the hell were you?" Cisco bursts. "Are you okay?"
"Of course I'm okay," Barry says. "The trip took a little longer than expected."
"Trip?" Cisco asks.
"Tahiti," Barry says, brandishing the cake as Caitlin pulls away. "I can run on water, remember? You said you liked Tahiti…mango cake? I think?"
And Caitlin wants to punch him.
"You ran to Tahiti and back in a day?" she says. "Without telling anyone?"
"It was going to be a surprise," Barry says, finally sensing that he's royally screwed up and retreating like a scolded dog. "It wasn't supposed to take a day. I just had to take a bit more time to recharge. Which is…not bad. If you're already in Tahiti." His expression changes. "Oh, Cisco—I completely forgot we were meeting this morning."
Cisco throws up his hands and walks away from the computer monitors.
Barry, sheepish, looks at Caitlin and holds out the cake. "Um, Happy Birthday?"
On her twenty-seventh birthday, Barry is actually kidnapped. As is Cisco.
This person calls himself the anti-metahuman something or other—she hasn't bothered to learn his actual name and it feels wrong to give him a nickname without Cisco around. He targets metahumans, kidnaps them, destroys them. Caitlin sits in her chair at STAR the entire day. She can't remember if she ever moved.
When she and Joe find them, she goes immediately to their side. Joe tackles the baddie, but Caitlin is moving in a haze. Cisco keeps muttering something, but he's babbling because of the blood loss and the severe concussion, motioning at Barry who's unconscious on the floor with both legs shattered but very much alive, and they're both bloodied but alive, not necessarily okay but alive—
Her birthday passes her by without a thought, and it's only when she showers the blood off of her skin a day later that she realizes that she missed it. But she doesn't care, because there are two figures in hospital beds just outside of her door, and she's finally processing. Two metahumans in hospital beds.
She's thankful, guiltily thankful, that she's not one of them.
On her twenty-eighth birthday, she sits alone in a cold room and weeps. Ice spreads out from her body, creeping along the floor, sealing the door shut. With every exhale, her breath crystallizes.
Birthdays are not important. She will remember this one later, perhaps, maybe months later, but everything besides the ice in her heart is unimportant. When she sobs, she fears that she will involuntarily freeze the entire world.
She can't stop it. Her phone rings. Her fingertips graze it, and it turns to ice.
On her twenty-ninth birthday, she tries to smile again. While it doesn't feel natural, not yet, it doesn't feel wrong, either.
"To another year," Barry says, his own grin hesitantly genuine.
"I'll drink to that," Cisco says, raising his own glass.
Caitlin blinks at them. Suddenly she's transported, living five years earlier, with the laughter and the jokes, before things got bad. Frost curls at the edge of her glass, but she steadies herself with a breath.
Five years earlier—before things got bad, but also before they got good again.
They're different now from what she thinks she sees in the past; Barry's face is fuller, his demeanor steadier, with a ring on his finger. Cisco's begun to wear v-necks, and while Caitlin hasn't officially ruled her judgment on that particular fashion choice, she can also see that he carries himself more confidently.
She wonders if she looks different too, here at the crest of a new decade.
"To another year," she says, and she drinks.
Thanks for reading! As always, please feel free to leave a comment to let me know your thoughts.
I'm always accepting prompts on my Tumblr, and I love chatting with all of you. If you celebrate it, have a wonderful Thanksgiving, all!
Till next time,
Penn