A/N: This is set post the S4 crossover event but nothing more specific than that other than it's somewhere in a vague but not that far away future. Anyhow, early S4 was giving me Caitlin/Iris feels and I already headcanon Caitlin liking Barry, so I like the idea of everyone gets to be happy with Barry/Iris/Caitlin together but this so far is just the angsty start to something that I hope to continue.
She wonders, should it hurt more each time her heart breaks? Each time destiny says an emphatic NO. It doesn't, but then she holds back a piece of her heart each time as well. A little more guarded. Another slice of numbness that is small protection. Eventually dating is easy. What's the risk when you give so little away to those who pass in and out of your life.
She doesn't expect Iris to notice, to ask "What are you doing, Cait?" as if she's doing something wrong and not something entirely normal, expected, by trying futilely to find happiness. But Cait knows her friend only asks because she doesn't really care about any of these people; it isn't what she wants, it's just her going through the motions by this point. Even Frost could probably do better.
She feels a splutter of warmth in her heart when Iris closes her hand over her own and she knows what she wants has never been what she gets to have, so she removes her hand and tries her best to close herself off once more.
Iris doesn't take no for an answer. She doesn't stop worrying and of course that means she talks to her husband about it.
Caitlin doesn't want to have that conversation with Barry of all people because she can still remember the way she felt years ago, strangely hopeful that he could be the person she could be crazy about. Destiny hadn't been kind there. Just like destiny hadn't been kind when Ronnie had returned and she'd assumed that was her second chance but it had only resulted in that hope being taken away once again. Everything gets taken away from her. Even Savitar, who she thinks Frost had loved in her own twisted way because he had been Barry once upon a time like she had been Caitlin...
No, the universe has been cruel and the best she could do was prepare for it, the inevitable pain, retreat like she would in the face of Barry's concerned face emploring her to open up. The problem is, Barry has always been better at seeing through her than anyone else. He sees the pain that lights up her face for a split second and she knows she can't deny that deep down she hurts. She can see understanding mirrored on his face in the anguish at what he observes. She can tell he wants to know how he can help and she doesn't want to tell him the truth that he simply can't.
So she lies, complete with a large smile, "I'm fine, really" and she hopes over the years she's gotten better at it. Or that Barry might have learnt better to let things go. The threat of Frost bubbling up protectively alarms her, even though some part of her relishes the thought of all the things she could say to force him to shut up, but he doesn't push it. He simply nods sadly, accepting her words, making her feel worse.
"Something's wrong with Cait," he agrees, slumping down next to Iris on the couch. To Iris's eyes he seems defeated. She'd expected Barry could get through to Cait, but maybe she has overestimated his influence, he isn't as close to her as he once had been. Thinking about it, Cait has been distant from them for some time - still involved and encouraging when required but held back compared to before she'd left to find herself.
"What did she say?" she asks, curious what has led him to his conclusion.
"Nothing," he says, his eyes meeting hers briefly before he sighs and draws a hand frustratedly over his face. "Actually, no, that's not true. She did say something, she lied to me. She wants to pretend everything is hunkydory. That's worse than if she just said she didn't want to talk about it."
"What do you think she's hiding?" Iris asks him, though she thinks she already has a good idea. She wants to hear Barry say it, in case she's wrong.
"She's still broken, Iris. I don't think she ever stopped being broken. Ronnie, then Jay...her becoming Frost. We thought we'd saved her but we didn't, did we. We thought she saved herself after that too, because Frost wasn't evil anymore, actually helped us out, but I don't know if that was enough, if she's really been living at all. Why didn't we see it sooner?"
Barry's eyes crinkle and he's fighting the falling tears, no doubt guilt eating at him the same way it is suddenly knawing at her insides. She'd thought she was more observant or has Caitlin simply been too good at hiding her pain all this time? She's had practice, far too much, so Iris can believe it unfortunately.
"We want you to be happy. What would make you happy, Cait?"
"Nothing you can give me," is the too quick answer, her head turned away defensively, avoiding Iris's inquiring gaze.
Iris's heart clenches at the statement and still she wonders what the real answer is, what Cait won't tell. Iris never has liked giving up; if there is a more complete answer she will figure it out. Caitlin won't say, words aren't useful here, but actions, those will speak louder, so she will watch carefully.
What she finds is the meaning in looks. Looks that she catches where she shouldn't be able to see. Spying them in her peripheral vision, acutely aware after the first few of what she is witnessing. It's the looks that Caitlin throws at Barry when she thinks no one is watching. Looks that make Iris clam up tight, tense at the implications that race through her mind. Once she starts seeing she can't unsee any of it and it makes her a little sick to consider she could be the cause of Caitlin's unhappiness – that her happiness with Barry could be at odds with her desire to see her friend happy herself. It doesn't change anything between her and Barry but it makes her feels conflicted each time she goes to touch him in Cait's presence. Every shared smile and laugh near her is haunted by the idea.
Eventually Barry notices, even though she tries so hard to keep it to herself in an attempt to respect Caitlin's privacy. He wants to know what's going on, and she still hopes she could have come to the wrong conclusion, so she asks him to draw his own, to starting watching where Caitlin is looking when she thinks no one is looking. He accepts the challenge with a solemn nod and she waits to see if he agrees. She isn't prepared for what he says.
Of all the possibilities he'd considered, this hadn't been one.
He'd been bemused when Iris had told him to watch Caitlin, to watch where she looked, rather than her giving her answer, but it had been easy enough to comply with that request. Superspeed did help out there, to see what passed over Caitlin's face before she hid it. He'd never consciously done that because he's never expected that where any of his friends were looking had much meaning at all but the more he checks what he sees, the more he realises this meaning is anything but fleeting. It takes less than a day – complete with a crisis or two - to be pretty certain.
Iris seems to know when he enters the room what he intends to talk about, uncharacteristically quiet in anticipation, but it's hard for him to get it out. He stands away from her, unable to close the distance like he usually would. The words that stick in his throat aren't ones he ever thought he'd be saying.
"She looks to you. She looks to you like she cares about you. A lot. Like she...wants you."
Iris gapes; this is one of the few occasions she is made speechless and he's equally speechless at her reaction. Wasn't this what she knew already and hadn't wanted to admit without confirmation from him? Why does it surprise her?
"No, not to me," Iris shakes her head profusely, refuting it. She's clearly confused and it makes so little sense to him that she would be. Iris unfolds her arms and takes a step forward finally, one arm reaching out to touch him reassuringly. "She looks to you, Barry. Like she...like I would, if I didn't have you. If I couldn't be with you."
"But..." He doesn't get further than that one word before his mind stumbles, too busy whirling around relentlessly, trying to work out what is going on. There's what he's seen and then there's what Iris is saying, what she thinks she has seen. They could both be wrong, reading too much into something they shouldn't but there's also the nagging possibility they are both right.
They stand there frozen for a minute, looking at each other through the lens of this new knowledge. The only thing he can think to do is pull Iris into a close embrace, willing the contact to calm his racing thoughts. It feels like his world has been thrown off kilter but Iris will ground him, that he knows is true.