Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, faved, and followed the last chapter! I've decided to continue, and as I do I would love to have your feedback. Where would you like to see the story go? This chapter is shorter than the last one, but I wanted to begin to show the grieving process of Caitlin and Barry. (I totally ship SnowBarry, so you may see overtones of that.) Chapter One has been updated to correct any minor writing errors. I hope that you enjoy the new chapter! Thanks again to everyone! You're lovely!

Chapter Two

It was after ten when Barry entered Joe's hospital room. He listlessly threw his jacket on the back of a chair and collapsed heavily into it. "I expected you earlier than this," Joe commented. He was propped up in bed, his leg in a massive cast. Other than some cuts and bruises, he had broken his leg – which required a painful resetting – and a couple ribs, and he had a pretty nasty headache. Luckily he had escaped without any internal bleeding. The pain medication kept him from becoming too uncomfortable, and he was relieved that Mardon was safely in custody. Overall, he wasn't in bad shape. He had lived through much worse. "Iris left half an hour ago. Hey," he studied the sullen, ashen face and quiet demeanour of his adopted son, "what's up?"

"Cisco's dead."

Joe was at a loss for words. He didn't believe it. He couldn't equate death with the vibrant, young, healthy boy he knew. It didn't make any sense. If anyone, it should have been Joe who died that day. Finally, he was able to form a single question: "How?"

"Dr. Wells." Barry swallowed the lump in his throat. "Dr. Wells killed him. He's the Reverse Flash. He...he killed my mother, Joe."

Joe fell back against his pillows and stared at the ceiling. He had been right. He had been right about Wells the entire time. But he could feel no satisfaction. He suddenly regretted bringing Cisco into his confidence. What if it was his fault the boy was dead?

Joe genuinely wished with all of his heart that he had been wrong. He had been so caught up in getting justice for Nora that he had lost sight of how this would affect Barry. He knew how much Barry admired Wells. He should have done something to soften the blow. But he never could have expected that it would turn out like this. How earnestly he desired that anyone else in the world had killed Nora. The only betrayal that could have hurt Barry more was if his father had actually been guilty.

Joe glanced at Barry. He was slouched in the chair, staring at his hands in his lap. His eyes were wet, but he was holding in the tears. Joe was reminded of the frightened, grief-stricken child that he had taken into his home fifteen years ago. He couldn't imagine the pain that Barry must be feeling. He didn't want to say what he did next, but he had to tell Barry the truth.

"I suspected as much."

Barry's head snapped up. "You what?"

"I've suspected Wells for months now. I felt that he must have had something to do with your mother's murder. I was investigating him, and I asked Cisco to help me...The night with the Reverse Flash convinced me that Wells was innocent. I would give anything to have been wrong...I'm sorry, Barry."

Barry stood up, and started pacing at the end of Joe's bed. "You knew?" he demanded, angry and hurt. How could Joe keep something like that from him? "Why didn't you tell me? You just allowed me to get close to that man."

Joe sighed. "I didn't have any proof, Barry. I wasn't sure. What if I had been wrong?"

"But you weren't wrong, were you? You were right about Wells. You confided your doubts to Cisco, but not me. And now he's dead."

Joe flinched under the accusation. "I didn't want you to get hurt."

Barry tossed his head back, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Maybe I could have done something."

"What would you have done, Barry?"

"I don't know...something. You should have told me." He exhaled slowly and sat down again.

"I'm sorry, Barry. I only did what I thought was best."

"I know. You were just trying to protect me."

"If I could go back and do it differently, I would. But I can't. And neither can you," he added significantly.

"I know."

They were silent for a long time. The heart-rate monitor continued its steady beeping, and muted footsteps echoed down the halls as nurses made their rounds. Barry knew that it was going to be a long night.

"You should go home," Joe finally said. "Try to get some sleep."

"I'd rather stay here with you. I don't want to be alone." He didn't want to go home to an empty house, to the darkness and silence that awaited him there, to the nightmares.

Joe nodded knowingly. "Alright. I'd be glad of the company." He doubted either of them would sleep much that night.

TheFlash

Caitlin unlocked her apartment door, and allowed her purse to slide off her shoulder onto the floor. It was dark, but she could make out the outlines of shapes by the lights of the city, shining through the open windows. She sighed and leaned her head back against the door. She took a deep breath and attempted to steady herself. Normally when she was upset – dealing with her loss, her numbness; warding off the depression that threatened to consume her; bottling up her fears and sorrow, her concern when Barry had been injured, had almost died, again – she would stay at the lab and work late. Not tonight. She couldn't be in there tonight. She didn't know if she would ever be able to set foot in that place again.

Caitlin walked into the living room, and stood in front of her large, picture window looking out at Central City. She could see the steady, throbbing pulse of the city, the lights and cars. Life continued, just like any other night, oblivious to her grief. No loud, unmistakeable explosion to mark her loss this time. Just a quiet slipping out. A personal, life-shattering shifting of her world, that only Caitlin had to deal with.

Out there, no one knew or cared that Cisco was dead. Their monotonous existences went on as usual. Parents were putting children to bed; college coeds were looking for a good time; people oozed from theatres and bars, restaurants and shops; dogs barked and racoons turned over trash bins; couples walked arm-in-arm down neon-brightened streets; labourers working graveyard shifts trudged through the long hours, counting the minutes until they could go home to bed; somewhere an innocent victim was being mugged, or stabbed; in a hospital, a patient finally lost his battle and drew his last breath. Caitlin shivered and hugged herself.

She didn't want to be alone. Alone meant facing reality; it meant being confronted by the thoughts, the fears and doubts, that she wanted to keep buried. Alone meant admitting that Cisco was dead. Caitlin had wanted to ask Barry to stay with her. She had wanted him to come home with her. She wanted him to take care of her, tuck her into bed and wait until she fell asleep, like he had the night she had too much to drink. She wanted him to wrap his arms around her, shelter her, tell her that everything was going to be alright – even if it was a lie. She just wanted someone to be with her, make her feel safe. Barry had responsibilities though. He had other people he needed to look after – other people to look after him.

When Ronnie had died, Cisco had stayed up all night with Caitlin. The explosion of the particle accelerator had thrown the entire city into panic and confusion. The two of them had done everything they could to get the situation under control, figure out what had gone wrong, aid survivors. The need to remain calm had buoyed Caitlin through the initial anguish and despair. She hadn't had time to allow grief to overtake her. She was numb for days. Then it had come upon her all at once, crushing and consuming her. Suffocating her. She felt like she was drowning.

But Cisco had been there with her. No matter how deeply she withdrew into herself, no matter how distant she became, no matter how often she snapped at him or dismissed his invitations to watch movies or grab drinks, he stayed by her side. Her faithful companion, though she hadn't realized it until it was too late. He picked up the pieces and helped hold her together. He walked the valley with her and kept her from going under. Hid his own guilt and grief so she could begin to heal. She used to tell herself that she was trying to stay strong for him, but that wasn't true. He was the one keeping her from falling apart. She would see the sorrow in Cisco's eyes, and know that she wasn't alone. He had this unceasing love of life that infected her, taught her to appreciate her own life.

What she wouldn't give for one of Cisco's bear-hugs right now.

She should have swallowed her pride and had a Walking Dead marathon with Cisco when he asked. She had told Barry that she didn't have a social life to speak of. So why couldn't she have spared a day to watch Netflix with Cisco? He had been so excited for it. He wanted to share his fandom with her, spend some quality time with her. Why hadn't she clued into any of this when she still had the chance?

How was she going to get through this? Caitlin had never felt more forlorn in all her life. Ronnie was gone; Wells had betrayed them; Barry could seek solace from the Wests. Who did she have? She kept thinking how the one person she needed to comfort her in Cisco's death was Cisco himself.

Anger crashed upon her like a tidal wave. She damned Wells for his betrayal, for being a two-faced, lying, murderous son of a bitch. She cursed Barry for being so oblivious, for failing Cisco. She was scared that he was going to do something foolish and dangerous. She upbraided Cisco for not being more cautious, for not revealing his doubts sooner, for having the nerve to die. How dare he perish and leave her alone? She hated herself for not noticing anything was wrong, for letting Wells get away from her. What good was having a PhD if she couldn't use it to keep those she loved safe? She loathed everyone in Central City with a passion that terrified her. She wished that they had all been washed away and drowned in Mardon's tsunami. Why should they live when Cisco had died?

Caitlin had never been so furious. Violence surged within her, demanding to be unleashed. She needed to break something, anything. She would have preferred it to be Wells' neck. Suddenly, she could contain it no longer. She released a banshee scream, and laid hold of the object closest to her. It was a vase. She hurled it against the wall. It shattered. The sound reverberated against the walls and seemed to infect her very mind. Her blood roared in her veins. A frenzy sparked within her, and she began to seize more things. She pulled books off shelves, heaved anything she could lift. She ripped and scattered and shoved. She ripped down her curtains and overturned her furniture. She punched her fist through a wall.

Her energy spent, Caitlin finally stopped. She had completely ransacked her apartment. She panted and surveyed the damage. She stood amid a mess of glass, paper, and plastic, fabric and metal. The place looked like the Weather Wizard had unleashed a storm inside. But it was nothing compared to the storm that raged inside of her. Caitlin was exhausted and broken. Her knuckles were bruised and her palm was bleeding, but she hardly noticed. Her anger faded, leaving her cold and empty. Caitlin remembered suddenly the reason behind her outburst, and she collapsed to her knees. Curling up into a ball on the floor, she wept.