She always signed the notes she left Caitlin.

Even though they used different colors (although Caitlin's color choice wasn't optimal and lacked the right shade of blue), she always signed her notes. But never her full name. Only her initials. She wasn't much of a killer yet, however big her talk. She didn't know if she ever would be, but that wasn't a concern. Things were working out well the way they were. Still, she felt she had to sign her notes, so Caitlin wouldn't worry. She tended to worry a lot.

Caitlin didn't sign her notes. Frost didn't know if there was a reason. Maybe she thought it was obvious who wrote them, and signing was a waste of time. Maybe she didn't want to take the time to write her full name. Frost didn't care.

She continued signing hers.

She thought Caity liked reading the little sticky notes, and the fact that she'd kept all of their little conversations made Frost give a little smile, looking at the sticky notes stuck all over the workplace.

It was definitely a weird relationship; but it was also a strong one, that made Frost feel like she belonged.

She reached for her notepad – the almost-blue one, of course – and grabbed a pen.

Got a little carried away, she wrote. The black jacket ripped. You should get a new one. Preferably a badass one? We've made good progress with your wardrobe, so I'm trusting your judgment.

She read it over, tapping the pen against her lips, and then pressed it to the paper once more.

K.F.

Then she put the sticky note onto her computer.


She always signed the notes she left Caitlin.

Even though they used different colors (Frost obviously preferring the closest shade to blue available in Caitlin's desk), she always signed her notes. As if ensuring that no one could take credit for them. As if Caitlin needed the reminder of their strange, sisterly relationship.

K.F.

A thoughtful little gesture that made leaving the sticky notes up much easier to justify. It was the only way they could communicate, really. Caitlin remembered one thing from when Frost was in charge: the day Barry had used Flashtime to save the city from the nuclear bomb. Frost's fear for Caitlin's life was a solid memory for Caitlin, and the only time she could remember being able to feel Frost.

She looked at the almost-blue sticky notes, a ball of grief rolling around inside her in the now empty part that was Frost. It really did feel like something was wrong. Missing.

All that time thinking she couldn't feel Frost, and it was only when she lost her that she realized they were connected the whole time.

She closed her eyes, unable to look at the sticky notes for a few seconds. Unable to realize she wouldn't read a new one next time the team got back from a fight.

She breathed out, opening her eyes forcefully. She couldn't give up. Frost wasn't gone forever. She couldn't be.

She reached for her notepad – decidedly leaving the almost-blue one untouched – and grabbed a pen.

I'll figure out a way to get you back, she wrote. She looked at it for a moment, touching the pen to her lips, and then brought it to the sticky note once more.

Caitlin.

Then she put the sticky note onto her computer.