AN: I debated splitting this last chapter since it became so long, but eventually decided to just post it all at once. (And thanks to crazygirlne for her encouragement on that ;) I hope everyone enjoys the ending!
XXXXXX
It's Wednesday evening, about twenty minutes before the university's mandatory staff meeting, and Caitlin's pacing outside of the school's largest auditorium.
There are people everywhere – fellow professors and other staff members of the university – and she recognizes the vast majority of them, but she's an expert at dodging by now, carefully slipping away anytime someone attempts an extended conversation.
At the moment, she doesn't want to talk to any of them – she wants to talk to Harry, but he's not there, despite promising he'd find her before the meeting started. He'd sent her an email the previous day that he'd been delayed in his trip home and couldn't attend class or meet with her afterwards, but still wanted to talk to her as soon as he returned. Since they'd talked plenty of times over email and texts, she'd asked why he couldn't just tell her that way, and he'd responded that it was something he wanted to say in person. That had meant that she'd (ridiculously) gotten her hopes up about what he might tell her – because if he wanted to say whatever it was in person, that meant the odds of it being something personal went up exponentially…right?
Unfortunately, with each minute that passes with no sign of him, the more she second-guesses herself, yet again. Who knows what he wants to talk to her about? It could have absolutely nothing to do with their relationship. Hell, he might simply want to thank her for a pleasant semester auditing her class before they officially (maybe permanently) part ways. After all, there's only one more class before the final that she assumes he isn't going to take, since he's auditing.
What it amounts to is that her heart is sinking as she begins to wonder if she's being stood up. Maybe while he's become the preoccupation of so many of her thoughts these past few months, she's only ever been a passing thought to him…a peripheral part of his life that he hasn't given much significance to. Maybe, to him, she's only ever been his professor – which is what she should have been, make no mistake about it – but the idea still inexplicably makes her eyes ache.
"Caitlin!" a voice calls from behind her, and she turns to find one of her best friends, journalism professor Iris West. "Good, you're here early, let's go in so we can get a seat."
"I can't," she says, even as Iris grasps her wrist and pulls her along to the doors. She still has some small modicum of hope that Harry might appear. "I'm waiting for someone."
"People are already going inside, you can talk to whoever it is in there," Iris insists. "I want to get a good spot since I need to do a write-up of this for the university's paper. Last time we got stuck up on the balcony, way in back, remember? We could barely hear what they were saying."
"And here I thought that meant we'd found the best place in the room," Caitlin mumbles, with one last look around, sighing in aggravation. Forget it – she has better things to do than wait for someone who might not even show. As she lets Iris lead them into the building, she asks, in a much lighter tone, "Are you sure it's about getting a good seat and not about wanting to sit near your boyfriend?"
"He – what – I…" Iris sputters. "That is not…stop making things up. Professor Allen is not my boyfriend."
"Professor Allen," Caitlin mimics. "You only ever call him that when you're deflecting."
"I call him that when I'm trying to be professional," Iris tries to claim, but Caitlin sees right through her.
"Please, we've all been friends for years and I see how things have changed. You both like each other, why not just admit it and then see where it goes from there? You know, like adults do? Or should do?" There's a sharp note of frustration in Caitlin's (supposedly rhetorical) questions, and that's definitely a mistake since Iris focuses on it immediately.
"Who were you waiting for outside?" her friend asks, much too shrewdly.
Now Caitlin's the one on the defensive. "It doesn't matter because he didn't show."
"Does this have anything to do with the student you –"
"No, it does not," Caitlin says, voice tight.
It seems like Iris is going to push the matter, but luckily for Caitlin that's when her friend's phone starts chiming and she takes it out to read the message.
"Looks like we don't have to worry about finding a good spot, after all," Iris informs her, smile bright enough that Caitlin knows who sent the text before the other woman confirms it. "Barry says they got some seats close to the stage – wait, I see them." She points toward the front of the auditorium where Caitlin can see Cisco and Barry looking around, presumably for them.
The two men are on the end of the fifth row, and while the front of the room is filling up fast, they've managed to save two seats in the row directly in front of them.
"Reserved just for you, my ladies," Cisco says, with a mock chivalrous bow, as he takes his shoulder bag from where he'd draped it across the seats.
"My hero," Iris teases him, though she's looking at Barry as she says it, and when the two of them smile at each other for too long, Caitlin sends Cisco a long-suffering look that has him laughing in response.
"I know you're excited about another fun, mandatory staff meeting," Cisco says lightly, directing his words mostly to Caitlin, aware of her hatred for these kinds of things.
"You know me so well," she tells Cisco dryly, as she and Iris take the seats in front of their friends. Caitlin reflexively checks her phone, telling herself she isn't disappointed when she sees no missed calls or texts from Harry. "I wish I'd chosen to teach a course on Wednesday evenings," she sighs, since those are the only faculty members exempt from attending tonight.
"Blasphemy!" Barry announces brightly, causing both women to jump as they turn back to face him. "I had a class tonight and I canceled it so I could be here."
"You're crazy, man," Cisco informs him. "I mean, borderline certifiable. You had a free excuse and threw it away when I'd have done anything to get out of this. Last time it was almost three hours before they let us leave! There's no way they can go on that long tonight, right?"
Caitlin slumps down in her seat, staring morosely at the ceiling. "Don't jinx us, Cisco."
"I love hearing about all the behind the scenes stuff going on at the college," Barry's saying, and Caitlin twists around again to shoot him a look of disbelief – is he eating popcorn?
"This isn't a movie theater," Iris chides, as Barry picks up an enormous fountain drink – he must have stopped by the cafeteria before heading over. "There's no food or drinks allowed in here."
"I'm a rebel," Barry proclaims, offering his drink to Iris, whose disapproving mask easily slides away when she laughs and takes a sip.
"You could have gotten me some," Cisco's complaining to their friend, as he steals some popcorn. "Hey, you think I have time to run to the cafeteria and get back before this starts?" He and Barry start debating the fastest time either of them could travel to the nearest cafeteria and back – Barry is loudly insisting no one would ever beat his record of three and a half minutes (he'd sprinted both ways).
Iris ignores their friends' lighthearted debate and studies Caitlin for a few moments before asking, "You okay tonight?"
Caitlin knows that her friend has picked up on her unusually subdued demeanor, and normally she'd enjoy talking things out, but she's simply not in the right frame of mind. "I'm fine. Just annoyed at having to spend my evening here instead of catching up on the work we have to get done before the semester's officially over." It's only partly a lie, and she knows that on any other day, Iris would call her on it, but she's hoping Iris gets too distracted by the men behind them.
"I have almost a hundred papers to correct tonight," Iris sighs in agreement. And then (sure enough) she gets pulled into Barry and Cisco's argument when they declare she has to make an 'unbiased decision about who's fastest based on the evidence and nothing more'. (The fact that there is no evidence to speak of doesn't seem to bother any of them.)
Caitlin's happy for the reprieve; as much as she dislikes this part of her job, her current mood has almost nothing to do with the meeting due to start in about five minutes. She's too busy berating herself for caring too much about Harrison Wells – for caring that the last few times they've tried to talk, they kept getting interrupted, or delayed, and then when she finally thought they'd have a chance tonight –
Her phone starts vibrating and she checks it, heart in her throat when she sees it's a text from Harry: I looked for you everywhere outside, but couldn't find you. I've accepted a job at the university. I'm sorry I missed the chance to tell you in person.
Her thoughts upon reading it are a swirl of emotions: relief that he won't be disappearing from her life, excitement that they'll get to see each other on a regular basis, and slight disappointment that the only thing he'd wanted to talk to her about was a job, and nothing personal.
(Well, that didn't mean they couldn't talk about anything personal in the future, right?)
She's about to write back that he doesn't have to apologize to her for accepting a job, but the overhead lights flash, indicating things are about to start, so she sets her phone aside. If he's going to be working here, he must be in the auditorium somewhere, and that must be why he'd even suggested talking before the meeting in the first place. Despite her hasty scans of the crowd behind her, though, she can't spot him anywhere in the packed auditorium.
"Welcome, everyone," Dean Ellis announces from up on stage, and the crowd quiets as he starts tediously going through the same topics they discuss at the end of every year. Why is this necessary, again? She can barely focus, too busy thinking about how she has to find Harry and congratulate him (and maybe in her daydream, her version of 'congratulating' him is thoroughly kissing him, but that's neither here nor there).
She's working herself into a good bout of resentment over the mandatory requirements of her job, so she tries to distract herself by idly studying the various members of administration seated up on stage, behind the dean, waiting their turns to speak. That's when someone familiar at the edge of the stage catches her attention – Harrison Wells. He's standing near the back of the curtains with two women, one of whom she recognizes as the Head of Admissions. While the dean continues on about the 'wild success' of the program Barry and Cisco had taken part in that semester, Harry starts writing something on a piece of paper they give him.
She must say his name out loud without realizing it, since Iris elbows her in the arm. "Harry?" her friend repeats, taking only the briefest of seconds to understand the significance of that name. "The Harry that I've been hearing about for the entire semester?"
"It hasn't been the…entire semester," Caitlin mumbles, carefully avoiding the other woman's eyes so that Iris won't be able to read her as easily as she otherwise would. Her friend is pretty much right, though Caitlin hadn't realized she'd talked about him that much to the others. The amusing part is that Iris has never met Harry – for some reason, their paths have always narrowly missed each other. It's even becoming a teasing point of fact between the two women, whereby Iris loves to insinuate that Harry might not be a real person.
"He's at the back of the stage," Caitlin tells her friend, then adds somewhat petulantly, "I told you he existed."
For that, Iris nudges her arm again and then says, "Why would he be up on stage with the rest of administration?"
"He just texted me to say he'd accepted a job here," Caitlin says, confusion growing by the moment. "I assumed he meant as a professor, but…"
"There are no other professors up on stage," Iris points out, practically voicing Caitlin's own thoughts. "There never are for these meetings…so it must be a different job."
Their attention is momentarily diverted when Dean Ellis starts talking about how much he loves their university, how honored he's been to work there all these years, and that he's unfortunately decided to retire early for health reasons. After saying how much he'll miss everyone, he tells them that his retirement will be in a few short weeks, at the end of the calendar year.
Then he explains that after carefully vetting replacements, the university is confident that they've found someone who will uphold the values and academic integrity that Star University has become known for.
Caitlin knows, by then, where this is going, but some part of her still freezes when Dean Ellis introduces the man who will be their new dean: Harrison Wells.
The first thing Harry does after taking the microphone is thank their current dean and ask for a round of applause, in appreciation for the 17 years the other man has given to their college.
Everyone around her starts clapping, giving their soon-to-be-former dean a standing ovation, and Caitlin numbly gets to her feet, feeling like she's in some sort of dream. She can feel Iris's eyes on her in question, and hears Cisco mumbling something about how of course Harry's their new dean, but she can't say anything to either of them.
She's mostly in that same fog for the rest of Harry's speech, but she picks up on the key points: the interview process had taken months and he'd made it a stipulation that he be allowed to spend time at the university to determine if he thought he'd be a good fit there. He tells them that he probably looks familiar to most of the staff because he'd dropped in on various classes – not to secretly test or evaluate the professors, but to get a feel for the overall environment. He'd wanted to witness, firsthand, how students and faculty interacted with each other; wanted to sample a selection of courses being taught; and wanted to get to know the staff without the pressure of them knowing he might soon be their boss.
He then informs everyone that he'd been incredibly impressed with what he'd seen, and that based on that, when he was officially offered the position of dean, it had been easy to say yes.
He also apologizes to anyone who's unhappy that he hadn't been upfront about his identity from the beginning, and adds that if they have any issues with it, they're welcome to speak to him privately on the matter. Up until that point, his eyes haven't strayed to Caitlin even once, and she's sure he hasn't been able to find her in the crowd, but that's when she's proven wrong because the next thing he does is ask for their forgiveness – and specifically looks at her when he says it.
She can't hold his gaze for very long, dropping her eyes as he moves on to other topics of university business – that part she ignores completely, too lost in her thoughts as she tries to sort through her feelings at this unexpected twist.
Mostly, she's thrilled for him. She knows he'll excel at this job and she has complete confidence in his ability to run SU. Hearing what he'd said about the interview process makes so many things from the past few months click into place. The man speaking to the crowd isn't the same one she'd met back on that first day of class. That man had been guarded, unsure of what he'd find at this place and not entirely convinced he'd stay here. Today, he's confident in his decision – more than that, he's embraced it.
However, no matter how certain she is that this will be great for their university in the long run, part of her can't help feeling…hurt, for lack of a better word. She knows he hadn't been able to say anything at first, and that later on he'd definitely tried to tell her on several occasions, but it still stings that she hadn't heard it directly from him. (It's crazy, because even if they've become friends, he still owes her nothing when it comes to things like this; he never has.)
His new job also means that it should put an end to any thoughts she's ever had of potentially starting a relationship with him. The university doesn't have strict rules against interpersonal relationships, but it's certainly not encouraged, and especially not when employees are on a different level from one another.
And despite knowing that…she still wants to.
It hadn't mattered to her when they were professor and student, and it doesn't matter to her now that they're boss and employee. Because when she looks at him, she only sees Harrison Wells. It doesn't matter if she's teaching him in one of her classes or if his new job happens to mean the dynamic of their professional relationship has irrevocably shifted. By now, she knows who he is: what he believes in, what he stands for, the things he's passionate about. She's seen how much he cares for others – that he'll drop everything if his daughter needs him, but will also happily give up an evening to help someone else's child.
She knows how she feels, and what she wants, but there's still one major factor that she's unsure of: what, if anything, he might feel for her. And even if he did care for her, what are the odds that he'd want to pursue it? The worst would be if he told her he did have feelings for her, but they shouldn't venture down that road – and he'd have every right to not want to start off a brand-new job by dating one of his subordinates.
She's so mired in her state of speculative melancholy that Iris hissing, "Don't you ever check your phone?" startles her, somewhat. "Third time I've asked," Iris complains, careful to keep her voice low so as to not draw any attention to them.
Caitlin takes it out to see over a dozen texts from Iris, stretching back a solid ten minutes, and turns to her friend solely so she can roll her eyes in as exaggerated a manner as possible.
Iris snickers, ducking her head, and Barry loudly shushes them, which makes Iris laugh harder while a few people around them send disapproving glances.
Caitlin scans the list of texts to see that Iris has been spamming her with the exact same message, over and over: You fell for our new dean?!
Yes. Yes, she did.
No, I did not, she types back, hitting send with an irritated jab at the button.
Iris is holding her phone in her lap and grins when she sees it light up with the notification, which quickly turns to a frown after reading the message.
Liar, she instantly writes back, and Caitlin can't directly respond to that without admitting it or lying more.
She decides to ask a question instead: What am I going to do? She thinks those four question marks aren't nearly enough, but hopefully they get her uncertainty across.
Iris taps on her leg for a few moments before composing a reply: Talk to him.
Caitlin sighs and flips her phone face down in silent indication she's done talking right then, and Iris sends her a sympathetic glance that doesn't make her feel any better.
She knows her friend is right. Nothing's going to make her feel better other than talking to Harry. It's not like she can avoid him – not like she wants to, either. But she's been so thrown by the revelation tonight that she feels like she needs some time to process that change before gearing up for a potentially serious discussion about their relationship, and wherever it might go.
As if sensing her thoughts about not wanting to avoid him, Harry starts talking about how he plans to spend as much time around campus as he does working behind the scenes on administrative issues. He doesn't want to shut himself in his office and work independently of the faculty. He's going to be hands on and they can expect to see him everywhere, looking for ways to improve anything they tell him needs improving, or fix anything they tell him needs fixing. If it were literally anyone else standing up there, she'd have written off most of his promises as exaggerations in a feel-good pep talk. Because of who he is, though, she knows he means everything he's saying.
And that only makes her love him all the more.
She presses a hand to her eyes, mentally kicking herself. She's supposed to be cautious about this, preparing herself for the very real possibility that nothing might ever happen between them, and instead she's thinking about how much she loves him?
She's so, so far gone.
The other administrators start taking turns with various announcements about university business, and Caitlin knows a lot of it pertains to her job, but she doesn't hear a single thing they say. (She'll have to ask Iris for the highlights later.) It's not until people around her are standing and heading for the exits that she realizes the staff meeting's over.
"You should talk to him," Iris urges again and Caitlin nods in agreement.
He's up on stage talking to Dean Ellis and a few others. She should wait for an opening and get this over with. He might be her boss now, but he's still her friend, still the same man she's gotten to know this past semester. Nothing has changed in that regard and they're going to need to talk, sooner or later.
She knows all that, but she still leaves, anyways.
XXXXXX
Caitlin deliberately plans to show up to their Thursday class a few minutes late. She's not sure if Harry will end up skipping it, but she doesn't want to risk having to talk to him beforehand, especially if they get stuck in a discussion that will be hard to drop when class itself is due to begin.
It's the same reason she hadn't reached out to him the previous night, either – his text to her about accepting a new job was the last communication between them. She tells herself it's because it's a conversation she wants to have in person, but part of her is definitely afraid – afraid that this might be it and that after today, she'll be left knowing they'll only ever be colleagues.
Putting off their talk hadn't helped anything (did it ever?). She'd spent the previous night going over everything she wanted to say to him; she'd crafted a careful script in her mind of the questions she'd ask and how he might respond. (She knows it's pointless, that it will never follow what she imagines, but the preparation makes her feel slightly better.)
She reminds herself to reign in her emotions as best she can – a rational conversation won't be easy if she reveals how much she cares about him. Her feelings are not his responsibility, and the last thing she wants is for him to feel guilty (or worse, pity her) if he doesn't feel the same. If they simply leave this semester as friends, he never has to know that she loves him. (She wonders how good she is at hiding it, though, since she feels like she's giving it away every time she so much as glances in his direction.)
Her nervousness increases with each step she takes toward the lecture hall and for once it's not from worry that things will go terribly – it's from a much brighter, simpler emotion: hope. And not even hope that their talk will go well (although that's definitely part of it), but just hope that he'll be there and hasn't chosen to skip this last class. Aside from the meeting last night, she hasn't seen him in over a week, and the mere fact of his absence has caused an unhappiness in her that's been growing with each day he isn't there.
The realization is like a slap in the face and she actually comes to a stop in the hallway, her feet refusing to move as she turns over this new information. She's gotten used to him being there, has accepted he's a part of her life – a necessary part, even. And that's incredibly dangerous because it's making her wonder how she's ever going to accept it if her fears from the day before come true. What is she supposed to do if he tells her it's better, it's safer (it's smarter)to stay friends?
She forces herself to start walking again, reaching the door to the lecture hall and bracing herself with a deep breath as she enters. Everyone's already there, chatting happily amongst themselves, probably not even noticing that class should have started three minutes ago.
She searches for exactly one person in the crowd and he's not hard to find; Harrison Wells is sitting in his usual spot in the center of the room, alongside Barry and Cisco. The three of them are laughing about something (and she has a brief moment to think that apparently they're completely unbothered by Harry's new position). And then Harry turns to look at her across the room, as if he's sensed her arrival, and the shock of it has her freezing just inside the doorway.
In the span of a few seconds, almost too many emotions cross his face for her to register: there's apology there, and concern, and hope that she understands. And mixed in with all of that, overshadowing everything else, is a depth of caring that she's too afraid to call 'love'. (Because if she does, and it isn't, she has no idea how she'll come back from that.)
She breaks their gaze and goes to the front of the room, turning on her mode of teaching that's more or less autopilot. She reminds them that today is mostly preparation for the final next week, suggesting they get into groups to go over the material, and explains that she'll be available for one-on-one help for the entire class.
Almost as soon as she's done talking, a line of students appears and she spends the rest of the class helping them without any breaks. During that time, she studiously tries to avoid looking at Harry, but sometimes she can't help it. Every time she risks scanning the room, he's in a new place with a different group of students, and it hits her much too late what he's doing – he's been going from group to group, assisting whoever asks him for help, just like she's been doing for the students who've been coming to her all class.
She feels an overwhelming surge of affection for him and knows that if she hadn't loved him before, today would have definitely pushed her over the edge.
The class is over before she realizes it and she's delayed afterwards while finishing up with a few students. When they finally leave, people are already filing in for the next class and Harry's waiting for her by the doorway. She feels her nerves come back full force as she joins him and they start walking, automatically heading toward the building's main entrance, since that's the way they always walk when they leave together.
It strikes her with sudden clarity that they'll never be making this particular walk again.
"Do you have a few minutes?" he asks, and she remembers she's usually on her way to another class by this time.
"I canceled my next class," she tells him. "They voted to use the time to prepare on their own, if needed. They're all good students with consistent attendance, so I thought it was a fair request on their part."
They've entered the building's lobby, which doubles as a common area. There are couches and chairs everywhere, and skylights along the ceiling that let in plenty of light. It's fairly crowded for this time of day and she knows a lot of professors have done what she has – canceled their last official classes in order to give students more time to finish up semester projects or prepare for finals however they choose.
Harry hasn't said anything in response to telling him she canceled her class, and she's beginning to wonder if he's ever going to – that's when he abruptly stops in the middle of the lobby, and she automatically does so, too. When she meets his eyes, she sees the same emotions flickering there that she had during class – the same as the night before when he'd watched her from the stage. (And some emotions have been there much longer than others; she swears some go back to the very beginning.)
"I looked for you last night," he says. "Before and after."
"I…had to leave," she says, because it's not entirely a lie.
"I didn't call or text you because I figured if you hadn't stuck around, then…you might not want to talk to me."
"That's not it," she says, wondering how he could think the exact opposite of how she felt. "That's never it. Not when it comes to you."
He looks relieved to hear that and reaches out to lightly brush his fingers over the fabric of her sleeve. When she glances down, he pulls his hand away and says, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Caitlin."
She could give him a hard time, get angry or upset or try to make him feel even worse than she knows he already does – she won't deny that the thoughts had crossed her mind. In the end, though, she simply can't do it; she doesn't have a right, and besides that, any scenario of making him feel bad just to make herself feel better is one she can never seriously entertain.
"You don't have to apologize to me."
It's clear, from his expression, that he disagrees with her statement. "I tried to tell you so many times. I didn't officially decide to accept until the end of last month, around Thanksgiving. I thought there'd be plenty of time to talk to you before Dean Ellis wanted to announce it, but…"
"This is the project you'd been working on the whole semester. The one you never wanted to talk about in specifics."
"Yes." He steps away, in a move she doesn't like, and clasps his hands behind his back. "The short version of the story is that a decade ago, when I decided I didn't want to work at research labs anymore, I did a lot of traveling. I ended up overseas, and with my background, it was easy to get jobs teaching at small colleges over there. Usually I was a visiting professor for a while and then I'd move on. I began to take on more responsibilities, gained a reputation for being able to help colleges work through various problems – low attendance, budgetary concerns – administrative issues, basically. After a few years, whenever I was hired at a school, it was to run it. I grew to love it, in a way I'd never loved any other job. And to answer your question from last week –"
"That's what you found when you went looking for a different life," she interrupts, because she can't help herself. And his smile indicates that she's more than right.
"I still had a few friends in Central City," he continues, "one of whom works for SU. When Martin heard through the grapevine that the dean would be stepping down, he asked if I'd be interested in submitting my name for consideration."
"Martin…Stein?" She slowly makes the connection. "Head of our physics department?"
"The same. I earned my doctorate under him, you know. Well," he amends, smirking at her, "the physics one, that is."
"That must have been a very difficult process." She waits a beat. "For Dr. Stein."
His smirk gives way to a genuine grin. "I was his favorite doctoral student."
"He said that?"
Harry waves her off. "It's the kind of thing that doesn't need to be said."
"Sure, Harry," she says lightly, in a tone that indicates she might as well be rolling her eyes. "I'm curious about your decision to come back. Returning to the U.S., uprooting your entire life again after you'd been settled for such a long time…that's quite the change."
He's nodding in agreement. "That's partly why I was so hesitant in the beginning. That day we met? I wasn't in a great mood because I was doubting myself for even coming back here. It felt like taking a step back in my life, to return to the city I'd deliberately left in order to change my life. And honestly, I'd mostly agreed to come to SU as a favor to Martin – that and because I'd changed my life philosophy, remember?"
"Never automatically say no to anything without serious consideration," she murmurs, remembering that particular conversation very well.
He's smiling at her, obviously pleased she knows what he's referring to. "Exactly. So I came back, but I was pretty sure I'd quickly decide that it wasn't worth staying."
"And you were wrong." She glances around the lobby, just one room of thousands on this campus, all of them part of a university that he'd decided was worth changing his entire life for. Again.
"I was wrong," he confirms. "In the beginning, I was skeptical about my chances of getting the job – if I even decided I wanted it – but they liked me right away when we began the process, especially my ties to the city from way back. That's when I told them I wanted to see what it was like at SU – really see what it was like. I've been around long enough to know that pre-arranged interviews and presentations wouldn't show me what it was actually like here, especially not if the staff knew I might be the new head of the university." His face has changed, and she can easily see the regret. "If you had any idea how many times I wanted to tell you, but wasn't allowed. And then once I finally could, we kept getting interrupted. I began to second guess myself, began to worry that you might be upset I hadn't told you from the very beginning. The longer I waited, the worse my imagined scenarios became. Not that I'm trying to use that as an excuse –"
"I understand," she tells him, because she does. "It wasn't something you ever had to tell me before the staff meeting." She remembers the thought that had crossed her mind the night before. "You owed me nothing."
"You're wrong," he says, and it's harsh enough that she almost takes a step back. "If anything, I owed you more."
"Harry…"
"Yours is the only class I actually took this semester." He says that like it's supposed to mean something to her, but she has no idea what.
"What are you talking about?" Another thought has her actually taking a step back this time. "Did you seek me out on purpose? Have there been complaints about me? Or my classes?"
"No," he says firmly, "you've gone down the wrong road, completely. I dropped in on lots of classes – it's easy to get lost in lectures with hundreds of students – and I wasn't lying at the staff meeting when I said I liked what I saw, almost across the board. The courses and professors here are as first-rate as I'd been told."
"Then why did you enroll only in mine?" she asks again. "Do you have a long-standing passion for debating medical ethics issues?"
"You know I love to argue," he says, and when that makes her smile, he relaxes a little in response. "The first week, I was searching for a class I could enroll in to get a feeling for what it was like here over an entire semester. I wanted something I'd find interesting, and I did like the issues we were going to debate. That's not really it, though."
"Then what is it?" She's beyond frustrated, wondering how many different ways he can dodge the same question.
"You," he finally answers. "I took the class because of you." Her confusion must show on her face, since he continues, "I liked what I saw in you as a professor. As a person. From that very first day. You love teaching, you love your students, and it shows. I could see it after spending less than two hours with you in our first class. I knew if I wanted to spend 15 weeks with anyone I'd met at SU by that point, it was you."
She can only stare at him, dimly registering the familiar buzz of students in the room around them; they're talking, laughing, excited about the end of the semester and the vacation they'll soon be enjoying. She and Harry probably should have found a more secluded place to have this conversation, but it's too late now and she doesn't think she could move if she wanted to.
He must take her silence as unhappiness with him. "You have every right to be upset," he says. "So let me have it. Whatever you want to say. I promise I won't hold it against you."
"You mean since you're my boss now?"
He grimaces slightly. "Yes, that."
"I'm not angry at you," she tells him. "I'm not going to start berating you or fly into a rage. Do I wish we'd been able to talk about this before? Yes. Am I going to hold it against you now? No."
His relief is palpable. "I'm glad. You were the only person I worried about when it came to this. I never wanted to hurt you and I was afraid you'd feel like I…betrayed you." He looks down at the floor, then back up at her. "I know I lied by omission, but if you're amenable, I want us to start over with a clean slate, so to speak. And I'd never keep anything like this from you again."
Start over? She can't think of a worse suggestion. "I don't want to start over," she says, coldly. (She wants to stay right where they are.)
How is she going to be fine with seeing him around campus? How is she going to simply forget about every moment of connection they've shared? Every conversation and glance and smile – how is she supposed to move on from something when she never really had it to lose in the first place?
"I just…I don't want this to ruin whatever's between us." His hesitation indicates that he knows he misstepped somewhere in their conversation. "I still want to be your friend."
"My friend." That's when the real hurt seeps into her, because she's pretty sure what he's saying. "You want to be my friend."
"Yes. Always." His voice has become tinged with confusion. "What is it? I feel like I'm doing something wrong, here."
"Forget it," she sighs, trying to follow her own advice. "I get what you're trying to say, Harry. This can be…" she waves her hand toward the doors, "…where we part ways." It's the same thing he always tells her after class, once they get outside. It sounds a lot different now, though. Whenever he's said it, it's always been a temporary thing. A brief farewell before they see each other again. Her saying it now, though…there's a permanence to it that's making her feel sick.
"What are you talking about?" There's an edge in his voice that she doesn't understand. "Why are you acting like –" he gestures between them, "– there's nothing here?"
Now she's the confused one. "You just told me you only want to be my friend. What am I supposed to do with that?"
His face clears as he comprehends what she's saying. Or more importantly, not saying. "I never said 'only'," he tells her, voice low.
She processes the implications of his answer, barely trusting herself to speak again. "What do you want, Harry?"
"Everything," he says simply. "I want everything." When she doesn't speak, he continues, "Caitlin, I knew by the end of September that I wanted to move back to Central City. Permanently."
The subject change jars her, at first – until she thinks about the timeline and how it doesn't fit. "You didn't accept this job until the end of November."
He's watching her, waiting for her to understand.
"You wanted to move back for me?" She's not sure how he hears her, since she can barely hear herself.
"You were the first reason, yes. And then Jesse wanted to come back, too. And then I realized how much I missed it here, after so many years away. They say you can never go home again, but…" He takes a step closer to her. "They lie."
"Me," she's saying, like repetition will make her believe it more. "I was the first reason."
"And in the end, the biggest one." He places a hand on her arm, and this time he leaves it there. "I told you that I want to stay your friend because it's true. I never want that to change, but I'd like to be more than that, too. Over the past few months, I've come to care for you so much that…" He falters, looking somewhere beyond her before meeting her eyes again. "A life without you is not one I wish to contemplate."
"It's not?" She's pretty sure her words sound as dazed as she feels and is well-aware that half of her responses now involve repeating his own words back to him.
"I know we've never discussed this –" for the first time, a bit of self-doubt slips into his tone, "– but I'm pretty sure you feel the same. That is…if I'm not wrong."
She's shaking her head before he even finishes the sentence. "You're not wrong."
He leans down to whisper in her ear, "I knew it – I'm never wrong."
She leans back slightly, with some notion of calling him on his arrogance, but the only thing she does is turn her head and kiss him. She knows it catches him off-guard from how his breath hitches on his next inhale. Then he's kissing her back and she can feel everything in it that he's been telling her – the tenderness, the affection, the hint of desperation from when he'd thought he might have missed his chance after she learned the truth – there's a promise in the kiss that takes her breath away.
When she finally pulls away and makes an attempt to gather herself, she knows she has to tell him: "I love you."
He stares at her in mild shock and she prays she hasn't made a terrible mistake. That she hasn't overplayed her hand and said something that, while true, might make him think she's in too deep, too soon –
"How many rules am I breaking if I tell you I love you, too?"
She abruptly laughs, almost giddy with the wave of relief that crashes over her. "I don't know. I never read the employee handbook, remember?"
He laughs then, as well. "If there is anything to that effect, I'll just cross it out. I can do that now." He punctuates his statement with another kiss. It lingers for a moment until he stops it, though only to profess: "I love you, Dr. Caitlin Snow."
"As much as I'd enjoy hearing that many more times, we shouldn't be doing this here," she tells him quietly, as he looks around the room. Most people are too wrapped up in themselves to notice the two of them, but there are definitely a handful of students shooting them curious looks.
"Most students don't know who I am yet," Harry points out. "Which means they must be curious about you."
"The faculty members know who you are," she counters.
"Yes, they do," he says, taking her hands in what she suspects is a move to indicate that he doesn't care.
It's like the universe hears them, since Cisco and Barry choose that exact moment to wander through the lobby and come to a stop – right next to her and Harry.
"About time, you two," Cisco admonishes, winking at them in exaggeration. "If you only knew what we had to deal with! Months of you two looking at each other –"
"This is a scandal, right?" Barry interrupts, taking out his phone. "I'm going to need a picture to document for the school paper. This is the kind of scoop Iris loves to get and she'll definitely owe me when I –"
Harry pushes Barry's hand away, almost causing him to drop his phone. "Keep. Walking."
"Is that an order?" Cisco asks. "Because, I mean, it could be. But then again, you're not technically our boss yet. Are you trying to test it out? See how it feels to –"
"Go," Harry says, and that time it most definitely is an order, and the other two know it. And while the younger men (slowly) walk toward the main entrance, they keep sending curious looks (and various congratulatory hand gestures – thumbs up from Cisco and, oh God, an actual heart from Barry) back at her and Harry.
"This is my life now, isn't it?" Harry asks, and she can tell he's going for annoyed, but there's a definite fondness in his tone that's unmistakable.
"Hey, you chose it. You could have stayed in Europe."
"Tuscany, to be precise."
"You are crazy to have given that up for this place," she teases. "For us. All of us."
"No, I don't think so," he argues lightly.
"If you two could take a step back under that skylight so the sunlight hits you at a better angle?" Barry calls, and they glance over to find he's fumbling with his camera again. "I'll agree not to publish pictures for a small extortion fee. But I still need proof for Iris."
"You!" Harry snaps, pointing at Barry. "Don't make me fire you."
Caitlin groans and presses her forehead to his chest. "That is not the kind of joke you should be making, Harrison."
"Who said it was a joke?" he asks, as she glances up at him. He's kept his face perfectly blank, but the smile in his eyes gives him away.
"This is workplace harassment!" Barry protests indignantly, and by now they've definitely made enough of a scene that people are staring.
Cisco then informs Barry that the argument could be made that taking unwanted photos of people is the true harassment, and the two of them finally end up leaving the building, bickering the whole way.
"You're right," Harry tells her. "I am crazy to want to work here. There's no other explanation."
"The good news is that you'll fit right in," she says, cheerfully.
"Maybe it's not too late to renege on the job," he jokes, then his expression sobers. "This doesn't bother you? That we're technically boss and employee?"
"What if it did?" she asks, thoughtfully.
He pretends to think about that. "You could always quit."
She laughs at his 'solution'. "See, that's how I know we'll be fine. And in all seriousness, Harry, if it doesn't bother you, then it doesn't bother me. I know neither of us will let it interfere in our personal life." Her eyes alight with what she says next: "However, there's still the small matter that I shouldn't date my students."
"We only have a few days until the semester's over, but I'll unenroll if it makes you feel better."
She tugs on the sleeve of his shirt. "I liked having you in my class."
"I liked being in your class," he replies. "It might be my favorite class that I've ever taken."
"Why?" she teases, expecting some light hearted, over-the-top praise or flattery.
His eyes darken, voice turning intense: "Because I fell in love during it."
She inhales sharply, her own humor evaporating as she meets his eyes. She doesn't care if anyone in the lobby's still watching, doesn't care what anyone might think of them. In that moment, all she can see is the future laid out before them: she sees working alongside him for years; she sees marrying him; she sees having children with him. She sees laughter and joy and good times, and sadness and grief and hard times. In that brief flash, lasting no more than a few seconds, she sees everything. She sees a life.
And the only person she wants any of that with…is him.
"What is it?" he asks, having seen her momentary lapse into her own thoughts.
"I saw…" She lets the words fade, not sure how to answer his question. Where would she even begin? (And is she crazy for even imagining it when they've been 'together' for all of ten minutes?)
She leans up to kiss him and he easily kisses her back, like he knows it's something she needs for reassurance. It's all the confirmation she needs to realize that she could definitely do this for the rest of her life. When she pulls away, she can still see the question lingering in his eyes, accompanied by a slight worry.
"It's…forever," she says, in a belated answer. "I saw forever."
The smile he sends her in return is brilliant, and she finds herself thinking again about how this had started: with a lecture, in this very building, three and a half months earlier.
She doesn't think she'd have believed it if someone had told her she'd have a future with the student she met that first day. That a few months later, they'd not only be working together, but he'd be her boss. And that none of it mattered, in the long run, because what they felt for each other went beyond labels or guidelines or what anyone else might think.
"Forever's a really long time, Caitlin Snow," he's telling her, like it's something she might be unaware of.
"Too long?" she challenges.
"Let me think on it," he offers, and she gives him a playful push backwards that has him dropping the facade and grabbing her hand to pull her up against him. "It's not too long," he promises.
"Good," she says, relaxing slightly. "I wanted to make sure we were on the same page when it comes to the future." She tilts her head. "When it comes to us."
"I think we can make it." He wraps his arms around her, as heedless of any bystanders as she's been. "Forever, that is."
"I think we can, too," she agrees, tipping her head back to smile up at him. "Forever it is, then."
(And it takes decades to prove it, but in the end, they're both right.)
XXXXXX
