A/N: Hello everyone! Once again, thank you all very much for your kind reviews - I can't tell you how happy they make me! I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far - things are about to get a lot more exciting in the next chapter or so. Just a friendly reminder to some of you who may have taken this a bit too seriously - this is a STORY. It is not CANON, merely my own oh-so-humble opinion of how episode six would have turned out if Caitlin had been kidnapped. Now that that's out of the way, on with the chapter! Reviews, subscriptions and favorites are appreciated!
A cup of coffee wafts steam on a sign that beckons people to come inside Jitters. The shop is made of grey bricks, swallowed up by the town around it. It sits back from the road and up a set of concrete steps. A tiny jingle bell chimes her entrance from a hook on the back of the door. The first thing that envelops her is the combination of scents: Yeasty doughnuts, vanilla, cinnamon, fresh coffee, warm milk and cake. It reminds Caitlin that she's skipped eating lunch and has yet to have her daily fix of caffeine.
The place itself is a large single room, with small circular tables with glass tops, under which people put business cards and signs and notices. Photographs of laughing children and playful dogs, and watercolors and acrylics of American scene-scapes, of red barns and covered bridges blanket the rest of the wall space not taken up by menu boards. Chatter and laughter fill the air; for the first time in day, Caitlin finds herself relaxing. As she moves closer to the counter to grab a menu, she walks through pockets of aroma, each one a comforting embrace of all that is good in this upside-down world.
The scent of ginger and lemon billows off fluffy scones cooling on the counter, and makes her stomach growl. She debates ordering one of those to go, maybe grabbing a few for Cisco and Dr. Wells. Just as she's decided to add on a spiced chai latte as well, a hushed discussion by her elbow catches her attention. Caitlin flattens her gaze to the menu, tacking on a deliberating frown for good measure.
"So where's your shadow?" The blond behind the counter whispers conspiratorially, winking roguishly at a svelte brunette. "He hasn't been in all week."
"Barry and I had a fight, okay?" The brunette - Iris, Caitlin belatedly realizes - mutters, smashing coffee beans with her scoop as though imagining Barry's head beneath her spoon. "He's getting his fix somewhere else."
Caitlin stills. He didn't tell her that. Jealousy ripples through her, a knee-jerk reaction that she can't quite explain.
The blonde titters. "That's too bad. He's cute. I kind of miss having him around."
She's heard enough. Her gaze narrows, irritation clouding her vision. This is irrational. She shouldn't be so worked up over something that isn't her problem – nor her business. Caitlin clears her throat, and gestures at her menu with a vapid smile that she doesn't really feel.
"Good afternoon. Welcome to CC Jitters, may I take your order?" With a pointed look at the blond behind the counter, the brunette turns with a smile and friendly eyes.
It is then that Caitlin Snow gets her first glimpse of Iris West. The other girl is tall and slender, with big dark eyes and a cascade of straight brown hair. Her lips are lush and red, her cheekbones high and sculpted. Her shirt is modestly sexy, a flowing sheath of floral silk that contrasts beautifully with her café-au-lait skin. She looks like a fucking supermodel and exudes an exotic sex appeal.
"I . . . I'll have a chai latte, with extra cinnamon and whipped cream. Oh, and four of those scones to go, please." Caitlin moves a step away.
"Coming right up!" Iris nods, scribbling madly on her notepad. "Will that be all?"
"Yes, thanks." The cashier trots out a reasonable total, and Caitlin gropes about in her bag for her wallet.
The bell at the front door tinkles cheerfully, signaling another customer. Iris moves off to greet them and a second later, Caitlin hears her gasp. She looks up, half expecting to see Barry sauntering in, hands in his pockets, that bright, easy smile on his face. Caitlin's guess is way off.
It's a male, muscled like a serious weight lifter, with enormous biceps that frame a chest the size of a compact car. His skin is bronzed, his eyes long and angled, his face, nose and lips narrow, as if someone's shaped them with a razor. He has a headful of dark brown hair, shaved close to his head, and one silver stud glints in his ear. Dressed casually in a pair of cargo pants, a pair of combat boots and an olive muscle tank, the man saunters into the coffee joint as if he owns the place. His eyes, so tense and hostile, brighten when he catches sight of the girl by the counter. "Iris. Long time no see. You look great."
Iris' reply is less-than enthusiastic. "Thanks, Tony. You too."
Tony, as in Tony Woodward? Meta-human who landed Barry in the hospital?
Caitlin deliberately takes her time, fumbling out the cash with slow and jerky fingers. She fights down trepidation, which persists even though Tony has showed no outward signs of aggression. The cashier behind the counter seems preoccupied with Iris' and Tony's exchange of pleasantries, gaping at them open-mouthed.
"Huh? Oh yeah, I work out." Proudly, he flexes his muscles, showing off an intricate tattoo on his skin. "There's a gym near my place. I live in Keystone, the west side. You should – uh – stop by sometime."
I've heard better pickup lines from teenagers, Caitlin wants to snipe, but refrains. She shouldn't be thinking about Tony's ( lack of ) flirting skills – not when there is a potentially dangerous meta-human on the loose. Her stomach pitches with nerves. She thinks about calling for Barry, but dismisses the thought almost instantly. A fight will most likely break out, there's a high chance he'll lose, and everyone in the city will be alerted to The Flash's presence – the very thing that they've been trying so hard to prevent. The police are out of the question. They've just gotten tossed around by Tony a few days ago, and it's clear that they are not a match for him.
In the end, Caitlin settles for snagging a table by the door as she waits for her order, deciding on a 'wait-and-see' course of action. She keeps an anxious eye on the duo and her phone close at hand in case things really do turn nasty. She'll call Barry, but only as a last resort. The last thing she needs is to have to patch him up again – or to see him get pummeled in front of her own eyes. Her knees quiver, and she eases onto a chair, fighting to keep her expression neutral.
It is Iris who hands her the extra-large chai latte, assuring her that her scones are on the way, an edge in her voice. It's funny – Caitlin had been hungry before, but now her stomach seems to have shrunk to the size of a walnut. Tony is nothing if not persistent, following Iris like he's her new shadow. "I was looking for you, Iris. You run a blog, right? Writing about the red streak?"
"The Flash," Caitlin comments automatically, remembering Cisco's distaste for the nickname 'The Streak', proclaiming that 'The Flash' has a grander ring to Barry's superhero persona. Both Iris and Tony stop to gape at her.
Comprehension fills Iris' eyes. "You've seen him, too?"
She could have kicked herself for giving away vital intelligence.
I see him every day. Iris' question hangs in the air between them, a tangible thing. Caitlin licks her dry lips and nods shakily. Looking warily from Iris to Caitlin, Tony cracks the knuckles of his right hand against his hip. Caitlin leans away from him, filled with dread. Her heart gallops in her chest.
"Why are you writing about this guy?" His voice is a rumble of an earthquake, powerful and demanding.
To Iris' credit, she doesn't back down, merely raising her chin higher and looking at Tony dead in the eye. "People say that he's a hero."
"Yeah?" Tony snorts derisively, walking around Iris and Caitlin in a circle. "Well, I say that he's a coward. I happened to know that he took a beating last night and ran off like a little girl."
No one who risks his life to save people from inside a burning building can ever be a coward. How can he say such a thing? She bites back the retort on the tip of her tongue, anger clouding her vision. The urge to throw her cup of coffee at him is all too real, along with the urge to scream at him for what he did to Barry. Twelve years down the road and she still can't understand how humans can take pleasure in inflicting harm upon someone physically smaller and weaker than them. Caitlin wants to drive her fists into him, but she settles for twisting her fingers together until they grow chilly from lack of blood.
If she acts rashly, it'll be her in the hospital bed. Not Barry.
"So, uh . . ." Voice deceptively casual, Tony leans forward, attention back on Iris. "You have any idea who that guy is?"
"No clue." Iris says firmly, clearly intending to close the conversation. "I have to get back to work."
Caitlin is still turning over the conversation about Barry, and she has a sudden inspiration. It's a stupid plan, but she doesn't have any better ideas that don't involve Barry or the police. She hopes that Tony doesn't see through her sure-to-be-pitiful attempts at flirting. Unless alcohol is involved, her attempt to be sultry is sure to be a painful and embarrassing fail. But this is for Barry. She remembers laughing giddily in the lab, dopamine flooding her brain, after Barry defeated the first meta-human. She remembers feeling something other than numb, nine months after Ronnie's death. She remembers the anguish clawing at her throat, how her heart had taken off like a frightened baby bird's when Barry had looked into her eyes, gently but firmly telling her, "Caitlin, I have to go" – an exact mirror of Ronnie's last words. Caitlin doesn't want Barry to die. She's lost too many people in her life, and Barry isn't about to become another one of them. She swallows, trying to channel every Buffy episode she's ever seen to her mind.
It's now or never, Snow.
Before Tony can walk off, Caitlin leans forward and catches his elbow, purposely allowing him a tantalizing peek down her shirt. She smiles at him - a slow, sweeping smile that starts with her lips and then shines in her eyes, the kind of smile that says she's just noticed something she's never seen before. Something she suddenly likes - and wants.
"So . . . You're interested in that red-suited guy too, huh?" She asks, trying not to look like an idiot as she flutters her eyelids the way she's seen girls do on TV. "I thought I was the only one!"
"He and I have a score to settle." Tony admits haughtily, tossing back his broad shoulders.
"Really?" Her face is full of false surprise. "I would've thought since you beat him up the other night, he wouldn't dare show his face around town again."
She's laying it on thick, but Tony, thankfully, doesn't notice. Caitlin just tries to look like a brainless bimbo, one who only has eyes for the nearest hunk of muscle. It seems that that's Tony's favorite kind of girl, one who can fawn over his brawn, rather than his brains - that'sassuming he has any, of course.
Tony snorts, and flexes his muscles. "This time, I'll make sure can't he run away."
The thought scares her, terrifies her, makes her feel like a rat in a sinking box with no way out. She doesn't want Barry anywhere this homicidal maniac until they've worked out how to beat him. Alarm chokes her throat. Caitlin tries to calm her heartbeat and her breathing.
"Mm, that would make for an interesting front page story." She runs her tongue over her bottom lip, which looks stained with freshly pressed roses. "I'm a reporter for the Central Times, you know."
That earns her a narrowed eyed glance. "Really?"
"Yes." She giggles, plastering a pout onto glossy lips. "But things have been so boring lately. I was thinking about writing about the Flash, but I think I've got something way more interesting . . ."
"Him?" Tony's voice roughens, lowers an octave. "That pussy isn't worth your time. Me, on the other hand . . ."
Caitlin fixes a cutely puzzled frown onto her face, and takes her time checking him out, smiling as though she likes what she sees. "You're definitely photogenic, alright."
"How about it, babe?" He gives her what he probably thinks is a charming smile.
"Mmm, anyone who can keep up with the Flash is big news in my book," She says silkily, catching his eye meaningfully and pressing a scrap of paper into his hand – she's scrawled out her phone number, along with the message 'call me' in a messy hand. "I'd be delighted to write about you, Mr. Woodward."
He unfolds it, looking for all the world like a kid opening presents on Christmas morning. "I'll call you, babe. And, uh, call me Tony."
"It's Caitlin." She turns to go, still giving him that hypnotic smile. "I look forward to seeing you again . . . Tony."
As soon as Caitlin is out of his sight, her smile lapses into a grimace. Ack. She doesn't think it is possible to loathe that guy anymore, but she's been proven wrong once again. Still, flirting with him, she realizes, might be the best way to keep an eye on him, maybe even weasel information out of him. She feels pretty sure that Tony is gunning for Iris, but if she manages to capture his attention, she won't have to see Barry get worked up should something to Iris. If she appears to fall prey to his so-called charm too, he might let his guard down enough for her to take him back to STAR Labs.
It is only when she reaches the lab that the full entirety of what she has done hits her like a punch to the gut.
"Oh hell." She swears.
Now she's really gone and done it.