Peace Stained with Blood
Chapter 3
Rip Hunter wasn't exactly what Caitlin had expected, although she'd never met a former Time Master before, so she wasn't sure why he wasn't. He was young and quite handsome, bearded with sandy hair. He was thin, probably a little too thin, and didn't make good eye contact. Jax and Sara had delivered him to STAR Labs, and she didn't fail to pick up on the protective vibe that she got from the two Legends that accompanied their Captain. She was being entrusted with the care of someone who was important to them.
Rip was polite but subdued, he called her "Doctor Snow" and shook her hand when they were introduced. Then he stared at the floor, with his hands in his pockets, looking like this was the last place on Earth he wanted to be.
"Come on, I'll show you to your room," said Caitlin, "I'm afraid it's not exactly homely, but I promise you the bed is pretty comfortable. I've tested it myself after a long night in the lab."
"I'm sure it will be fine, Doctor Snow," replied Rip, quietly. He turned to his team mates. "I seem to be in safe hands so you might as well get back to the Waverider. You need to get back to work."
Sara gave him a sad smile and then a rather unexpected hug. Rip looked completely taken aback and entirely unaware of how he should deal with it. The Legends departed and Rip looked even more lost than before, standing in the middle of the cortex, alone and a bit of a forlorn figure.
"This way," said Caitlin, and Rip followed her.
Cisco was waiting for them in the room. "Oh hey, sorry, just finishing setting up the monitors. I'll be out of your way in a moment."
"This is Cisco Ramon," said Caitlin.
"Mr Ramon," said Rip, with a dip of his head.
"Cisco is fine. Hey, that's an amazing ship, the Waverider. I got to take a ride in her when the Dominators attacked."
"Did you?" asked Rip, with a little surprise. He clearly hadn't been filled in on what his team had been up to without him.
Cisco nodded. "Yeah, it was amazing. Hey, maybe you could tell me some more about it. Felicity and I were trying to work out what the propulsion method was."
"Ah, I can't actually tell you that because I'd risk causing a temporal aberration. You have my apologies on that front," said Rip, looking around the room.
"Really? Not even a few hints?" asked Cisco.
"I'm afraid not," said Rip.
"How about…"
"Cisco," interrupted Caitlin, with the suggestion of exasperation behind her words. "Captain Hunter is our guest and doesn't need to be grilled about his space ship, or time ship, or whatever it is."
"Both, actually," added Rip, still not making eye contact.
"That is so cool," said Cisco.
Rip smiled for the first time since he'd arrived. "Yes, I suppose it is. She's been my ship for over a decade."
"Awesome," said Cisco. Caitlin rolled her eyes.
"Okay, Cisco, enough geeking out. I'm pretty sure that you have other things to be doing and I expect Captain Hunter would like to get settled in."
Rip gave a slight nod, but didn't look up.
"Fine, I'll have to catch up with you later," said Cisco, and disappeared to start on his next task.
"Sorry about that," said Caitlin.
"Don't be," said Rip, "his enthusiasm is very gratifying."
Caitlin reached into her pocket and produced a silver bracelet, which fed telemetry to the medical monitors. It was one of Cisco's latest devices.
"Right, if you could just put that on your wrist for me…" she said handing Rip the bracelet.
"Er, why?" he asked, looking at it suspiciously.
"It's a monitoring device. It keeps a record of your heartbeat, respiration, pulse, blood pressure... That sort of thing." She gave a half shrug, as if this was a completely normal thing to ask someone.
"No, why do you need to monitor those things? My problem isn't physical." Rip didn't seem at all enthusiastic.
"We're just keeping an eye on your general health. The mental can impact the physical in all sorts of ways, and I'm a little concerned that you're underweight. Sara said you hadn't been eating much," replied Caitlin.
"Did she, now?" said Rip, with annoyance. He sighed and snapped the bracelet around his wrist. Rip's blood pressure and pulse were now displayed on the monitor behind the bed, which was exactly how she'd asked Cisco to set it up for her. She noted that Rip's pulse was faster than she'd have considered normal and his blood pressure was on the high side. She made a mental note of that as something to keep an eye on.
"Let me help you with your suitcase," said Caitlin, picking up the rather stylish, vintage item and putting it on the bed. "There's a cupboard here for your personal things and clothes."
"Thank you," said Rip. He moved towards the suitcase and then paused, seeming to think before he turned towards Caitlin. "You'll have to forgive me if I ask foolish questions, I have to confess to never having been in a situation like this before. Am I confined to this room?"
Caitlin couldn't help but feel a little badly about her answer. "For the moment, but we'll see how you do. I'll find you some entertainment so you don't get bored, and we've got a fair bit of work to do before your team return."
"I assume there are also cameras," said Rip.
"Yes, sorry about that, but they're for your safety. There's also a microphone that will pick up your voice, so just shout if you need something."
Rip sighed and undid the catches on his suitcase.
"I'll leave you to get unpacked," said Caitlin.
"Thank you, Doctor Snow," said Rip, but he didn't look at her and he didn't start to take things out of the case. He just leant forwards with his hands on the bed.
Caitlin felt like she should hug him, but she needed some distance if she was to maintain her professionality on this case. It was bad enough that she was treating someone who was important to some good friends of hers, without her getting further emotionally invested as well.
"Okay, I'll be back in about half an hour to have our first therapy session," said Caitlin.
Rip gave her a curt nod to show that he'd heard her, but didn't say anything else. She stopped herself from sighing at his response, and left her patient to his lack of unpacking. This was not going to be easy and she and Rip had a great deal of work ahead of them.
Rip had spent several minutes just standing there, with his hands on the bed whilst he got a handle on his emotions. He never seemed to be allowed a moment where he felt normal, he was either drowning in a sea of seething guilt, self-hatred and depression, or unable to summon even the slightest bit of enthusiasm to do anything. He moved slowly, he thought slowly, the world hurt every second he was awake.
STAR Labs with its futuristic décor had reminded him of the year 3000, where he'd murdered Doctor Mid-Nite, a man he'd called at least a valued colleague, if not a friend. A tear dropped onto the bed and he hadn't even realised that he was crying until that point. Tears came easily at the moment which was unusual because there were only two people he'd ever really cried over. He scrubbed at his eyes, trying to persuade the tears to stop quickly. He didn't need Team Flash witnessing him like this.
He began moving his clothes from his case to the cupboard that Doctor Snow had indicated, just to give himself a distraction. He hadn't paid a lot of attention to what Jax had packed for him but it looked like about a week's worth of clothes, and what he'd normally wear whilst on the ship. With that done, there wasn't much else to do except wait for Doctor Snow. He sat down on the bed and fixed his eyes on the floor, trying to push the unwanted thoughts out of his head without much success.
Rip hated cells, and this was basically a rather nice cell with a surprisingly comfy bed and en suite bathroom. To be fair, he suspected that most people hated being put in cells, but he'd seen a lot of them recently. There was never any privacy and here one of the walls was made of toughened glass of some description, so this was no exception. Out of curiosity he tried to see if the door would open, but it was locked. So much for Sara saying that she wouldn't lock him up. He supposed that this was to help him, not punish him, but it didn't feel very helpful right now.
Although, quite frankly, he agreed that he shouldn't be allowed out, but not for the reasons they were actually locking him in. He could see that on the other side of the glass was a lab with lots of dangerous pointed objects and probably chemicals. That's what they were protecting him from, the temptation to try to end everything again, and it was a huge temptation. If he could have got to any of those things then even he wasn't sure what he'd do.
He went back to sitting on the bed, feeling small and alone. He was jerked out of his reverie by a knock on the door. Doctor Snow had returned and was holding a tablet, and what looked like a pad of paper, a book and some crayons.
"Hi again," she said, "Can I come in?"
Rip was taken aback. "It's your accommodation."
"And yours whilst you're here. Unless there's an emergency, I'm not going to come in unless you invite me."
"Ah," said Rip. "You're allowing me to control my immediate environment. I see you've read your PTSD manual."
"And it's just basic human politeness," said Caitlin.
"Oh," said Rip, feeling a little confused. "Of course, come in."
"So, you know something about PTSD treatment?" asked Caitlin, bringing a chair with her that she set down beside the bed and then sat in.
"Well, the Time Masters were aware when they sent out their agents that such things were always a risk. They explained the signs and symptoms, along with some basics of treatment and alleviation of symptoms. Not that they ever took it seriously when it was reported, we were supposed to be able to deal with such things," said Rip. "Which is pretty much how I know that I don't have it."
Caitlin raised an eyebrow. "And what did the Time Masters say about self-diagnosis of mental health conditions?"
"Not very much," replied Rip.
"Hmm, I'm not sure that I've got much respect for them then," replied Caitlin.
"The feeling is entirely mutual," said Rip, and stopped himself from adding that he felt things towards the Time Masters that went considerably further than a lack of respect.
"In which case, you won't mind if I assess you myself, and then give you my diagnosis," said Caitlin.
Rip regarded her for a moment before he answered. "Whatever diagnosis you give doesn't really matter. You can't undo what Thawne did to me, and I can't undo what I did while I was his puppet."
Rip felt his breathing increase, and his fists clenched, grabbing a handful of the blanket that he was sat on. He did not need to lose control in front of Doctor Snow.
"No," said Caitlin. Her eyes were soft and held a deep compassion. "I can't do that, but I can help you work though what happened and come out the other side."
"I really doubt that," said Rip, pulling his knees up to his chest and putting his arms around them. He felt he would fly apart if he didn't. He need to feel compact and anchored, but nothing seemed to work right now. He was already reliving the moment he snapped Sara's neck. He put his forehead on his knees.
"Rip, tell me what you're thinking," said Caitlin. He could hear the chair being pushed back as she stood up and came closer to him.
"I'm thinking… I'm thinking that I killed Sara with my bare hands. I can see it in my mind, clearly, and it was only a miracle that brought her back. I didn't feel anything for her. If I'd had my way, she'd be dead now," said Rip, spitting out the words and struggling with each one. "I'd have killed them all if I could have. I set the ship to self-destruct. I even used a barbaric mind-control device to get King Arthur and his men to attack them. I allied myself with their enemies. I'm a murderer several times over."
He felt Caitlin put a hand on his arm but he shrugged it off. He didn't deserve her comfort.
"Sara…" he started but he had to compose himself enough to get the words out. "Sara should have killed me when she had the chance." His heart was beating too quickly and his breathing was quick gasps of air.
"Rip, I need you to take some deep breaths for me. You need to slow your breathing."
Rip shook his head. He couldn't right now. He felt like his heart would beat right out of his chest and he could see himself choking Sara. He was crying again. Big wet drops were welling out of his eyes and rolling down his cheeks without his permission.
"Rip, look at me," said Caitlin, and again he shook his head. "Rip, lift up your head and look at me."
Rip had to admit that she was persistent and her tone was more forthright this time. He raised his head and realised that he was feeling dizzy now.
"Okay, I'm going to breathe and you're going to follow me," she said, and she took a long, slow deep breath, and then let it out equally slowly.
Rip tried to emulate her, because even though he wanted to be stubborn and let the panic take him, something about Caitlin made him reluctant to ignore her. His first attempt was shaky and dissolved into rapid breathing again quickly.
"Good," said Caitlin, even at his half-hearted attempt. "Keep trying, it'll get easier." She resumed her slow, long breath in for him to copy.
He tried again, and managed to hold it for slightly longer and again and again, until he was almost breathing normally.
"What do you like to do in your spare time?" asked Caitlin. The question seemed to come out of the blue.
"Er, I don't know… I used to like listening music, and reading. I don't get much spare time," he said, his voice wavering.
Caitlin grabbed a blanket from the end of the bed and wrapped it around Rip, who realised that he was shivering now that he was calm. Adrenalin was a fickle thing that took as much as it gave, so now he was feeling slightly sick and cold as it left his body. Caitlin didn't seem at all surprised by the shivering.
"Maybe you can give me a list of the music you like and some books you'd be interested in," said Caitlin.
Rip gave a cautious nod.
"Okay, just focus on that for a moment. Put together the list in your head. Five pieces of music, anything you want, and five books. You don't need to tell me what they are."
Rip looked at Caitlin with puzzlement, but as he began to think through the list he realised that she was removing him from one set of memories and onto a distraction.
"I'm guessing you're pretty tired after that," said Caitlin, sitting sideways on the bed. "Panic attacks can be very draining, so I won't keep going for much longer. One of the things we'll do tomorrow is go through some techniques to help you calm down and prevent them, okay?"
Again, Rip nodded, not trusting his shaky voice.
"Anxiety is totally normal after trauma, and there are lots of techniques that we can try that really help," Caitlin continued.
"It's not a good sign, is it?" he asked.
"What isn't?"
"Five minutes into our first session and I have a panic attack," said Rip, in disappointment. He was angry at himself, if he was honest.
"It's quite common," said Caitlin. "As soon as you actually start telling someone your problems, you have to get them out into the light of day and examine them. Sometimes that can be quite frightening and given what you were thinking about, I'm not at all surprised that was your reaction."
"So what do we do?" asked Rip.
"We take it one step at a time and we keep talking until they don't seem so frightening," said Caitlin.
"Nothing you or I can say will alter the fact that I'm a murderer," said Rip.
"You're not a murderer, Rip," said Caitlin. "You were forced to kill and that isn't the same thing at all. You had no control over what you were doing."
"I was still there, though. I could have fought harder, stopped myself."
"How do you know that?" asked Caitlin. "From what Sara said, they altered your memories, changed your personality, and turned you into someone that you weren't. How does anyone fight against that? Your own brain was giving you faulty information."
Rip wished he could believe her, but he didn't. Rip Hunter didn't let other people control him. He shook his head, and his reaction was met with a sad smile from Caitlin, as if she'd been expecting it. Perhaps she had.
"You were right about something though. You don't have PTSD," said Caitlin. "What you have is ASR – Acute Stress Reaction. If it doesn't improve after three more weeks, then you get to have PTSD."
"Oh good," said Rip, sarcastically.
"The good news is that ASR doesn't have to become PTSD, and early therapy really helps stop it progressing further."
Rip just sighed. Caitlin checked her watch.
"Okay, the worst thing we could do is leave you with lots of free time to sit and brood, so I've got some tasks for you to do between therapy sessions."
Rip frowned. "I'd prefer to have some time to myself."
"You can still have it, if you really want it. It's very much up to you how much you participate in this. But I'd suggest that if you do some of the exercises that I'm going to get you to do, it will help."
Rip gave her a long suffering look. "Whatever you deem necessary, Doctor Snow."
"Okay, so I'd like you to keep a diary," said Caitlin, "so I've got you a pad of paper, and crayons."
"Crayons?"
"Basically you'd have to try very hard to hurt yourself with a crayon," said Caitlin.
"Oh," said Rip, "I see."
"Sorry," said Caitlin.
Rip waved a hand in dismissal. "Given my recent behaviour, I understand. What am I supposed to write in this diary?"
"Anything you like. Weird dreams, thoughts, your day. Stuff that makes you feel happy, stuff that makes you feel sad…" said Caitlin, with a shrug. "You'll get the hang of it, I'm sure."
"How is this supposed to help me?"
"It gets your thoughts out of your head and onto the page. Sometimes when we write things down they become clearer."
"And you're going to read it?"
Caitlin shook her head. "Not unless you want me to."
Rip gave her a look of gratitude. It was bad enough that he had to discuss it with her without her reading his innermost thoughts – most of which involved various ways of ending his own life at the moment.
"Also, there's a colouring book and before you say anything," said Caitlin, because Rip already had his mouth open to protest, but quickly shut it at Caitlin's words. "Before you say anything, colouring books help to deal with anxiety and can be useful therapy tools. They're repetitive motion that gives you something to do with your hands. I got you the Doctor Who one, you'll love it. One of the guys in it even looks a bit like you."
Rip gave her a bewildered look. "What's "Doctor Who"?"
Caitlin raised her eyebrows. "I think I'll leave that one to Cisco to explain. You guys are going to have a lot of fun when he finds out you've never seen it." She put the pad, crayons and (apparently) colouring book down on the bedside table. "Okay, I want you to aim to do a page a day."
Rip didn't think that any amount of colouring was going to help him. Colouring was for children. Although Rip had never had that opportunity himself, but his childhood wasn't exactly typical.
There was a knock at the glass door. Standing there was a young man with brown hair, leanly built and lightly muscled. He was holding a long oblong, wooden box. The door clicked and opened.
"Hi there," he said, slightly out of breath, "Am I early?"
"No, no," said Caitlin. "We were just finishing up."
Rip frowned at the intrusion, but Caitlin was getting to her feet.
"Oh god, sorry, we haven't met yet," said the young man. "I'm Barry Allen." He held out a hand towards Rip as he barrelled into the room. "I wondered if you liked playing chess, it's just that my last chess partner turned out to be an evil speedster supervillain who was trying to manipulate me, and I heard that he'd done the same to you."
Rip's eyes widened for just a second. "You're the Flash."
Barry grinned. "Yes, I'm also the Flash."
Caitlin looked between the two of them, "I'll leave you two to chat." She stepped out of the room.
Rip pushed himself to his feet, slowly, and took Barry's hand. "It's good to meet you, Mr Allen. I would have preferred it to be under different circumstances." He couldn't meet Barry's eyes.
"Yeah, well mind control is never fun. Been there, done that, but mine was only temporary and luckily the Arrow was there to stop me. I hurt people, people I should have protected, and it took me a while to get over that."
"You have my deepest condolences," replied Rip, sincerely, and sat down on the bed.
"So, chess?" asked Barry.
"I have to admit to being rather rusty when it comes to chess," said Rip, rubbing the back of his neck. "But I would be open to a refresher course, and I seem to have very little else to do."
Barry was ginning again. Rip noted that he did that a lot and somehow it was infectious. Rip might not want to grin, but he did feel his mood lighten slightly.
"We can set up on the bed," said Barry, putting the box down as the door clicked shut behind Caitlin, reminding Rip once again that this was a prison. He hung his head for a moment.
"Yeah, I bet being locked in sucks," said Barry, noticing Rip's reaction.
"I deserve it," said Rip. "I actually killed people, and did untold damage to the timeline as well."
"Actually, I've done that too."
"Killed people?" asked Rip, looking up at Barry sharply. He really didn't seem the type.
"Well, when there's been no other choice, but I meant damaging the timeline," said Barry, setting up the board on the bed beside Rip. "We're living in my greatest mistake."
"I don't understand," said Rip.
"Yeah, I guess you've been out of the loop," said Barry. "I tried to bring my mother back by going back in time and beating Thawne, but it didn't work. I created an alternate timeline and tried to live in it for a while, but it didn't work. Things were worse, so I tried to put it back to how it was…"
"And discovered that you couldn't," finished Rip.
Barry stopped setting up for a second, and looked up at Rip with guilt written across his face. "Yes, and all sorts of things have changed, mostly small things, but some big things too, and in this timeline, in a few months' time, Savitar kills Iris."
"How do you know that?" asked Rip. He searched his memory for everything that he knew about this period and the Flash, and definitely didn't remember coming across any records of Iris West being killed at this point. However, he hadn't checked up on how events now played out because he hadn't realised that Barry had altered the timeline.
"I accidentally ran into the future," Barry shrugged as if this wasn't a big deal. "It's a speedster thing."
"I am intimately aware of that, and usually results in death by time wraith," said Rip. "The speed force has its own rules on time travel and they don't like it when people break them."
"I didn't do anything. I couldn't. I did see a news ticker though and so I know some of the things that I have to change to save Iris."
Rip sighed. "Manipulating time is not something to be undertaken lightly. Every time we, I mean the Legends, correct an aberration we risk making things worse, just as you did, and then not being able to fix it. At least you were able to return the timeline to something resembling the one that you left. If you aren't extremely careful about what you change, you could end up with you or your friends dying as well as Iris."
"But I have to try," said Barry. "This is all my fault and I can't just do nothing."
"I do understand, Mr Allen, but alterations like that usually just make matters worse somehow. Time wants to happen. I've had direct, first-hand experience of it. I failed to save my wife and child on a number of occasions. Vandal Savage still killed them, kills them, in 2166," said Rip, he blinked, determined not to start crying again.
"I'm so sorry," said Barry, with definite empathy. "What were their names?"
"Miranda and Jonas. I miss them very much, but I know now that I can't change what happens to them. Some things really are set in stone and no amount of attempts to alter them will result in a different outcome; and each time you try, you change things for the people of that period and not always for the better. It becomes unjustifiable to alter so much to save one or two people, no matter how much they might mean to us," said Rip. He looked away from Barry for a second, so that he could continue to blink the inevitable tears away.
Barry looked distraught at this news, but Rip hadn't finished. "However, and this is quite an important point, that isn't to say that your case won't be different. You may be able to select the right events to change Iris's fate, and it is my sincere hope that you will be successful. If there's one thing that I've learnt whilst being a time traveller, it's that you cannot predict your personal future and the alterations that you made when you went back to fix things may not have solidified into immutability yet."
Barry nodded, some relief visible now. "Okay, I think I can live with that. I'm not sure how I'd get up in the morning if I didn't believe that I had at least a chance."
"Sometimes belief and hope are all we have," said Rip. "But I hold on to the fact that Vandal Savage is dead, and Miranda and Jonas will always be with me."
Barry resumed setting up the board. "It's hard to lose the people we love. It's even harder when we think we can save them." He sounded very much like he was speaking from experience and given what he'd just told Rip, he supposed he was. Barry hadn't been able to save his mother, just as Rip couldn't save his family.
"Time travel is the ultimate temptation. The Time Masters vetted their candidates for Captaincy very thoroughly, although I wonder if they erred with my selection," said Rip. "It certainly didn't end very well for them."
"So I heard," said Barry, and there was that grin again. "But it sounds like you were exactly the right person to be a Time Master."
"Current evidence would suggest otherwise," said Rip, with disappointment.
"Didn't you just tell me that you can't predict your own future?"
"But I should have been better prepared. My attempts to protect the Spear of Destiny were woeful, and my team have put themselves in danger countless times to undo my mistake."
"Yeah, mine too. We have a surprising amount in common. Who'd have guessed that a Time Master and a Speedster would have so much to talk about?"
Rip glanced towards where he knew the camera to be that was keeping watch on them.
"Oh, I think Doctor Snow was well aware of how much we might have in common," said Rip.
Barry groaned. "Yeah, this is exactly the kind of thing Caitlin would think of. I guess this is therapy for both of us."
"It would seem so, Mr Allen," replied Rip.
"Barry, call me Barry."
"Barry," said Rip. "Perhaps we should play."
Barry nodded. "And you can tell me about the fun bits of time travel."
"Time travel isn't really a fun endeavour," replied Rip. He had a brief flash of a half-formed memory of himself talking to Thawne about killing George Washington and quickly shook it away.
"There has to be some fun stuff. You must have seen some amazing things and met lots of famous people."
"On occasion," said Rip, giving some consideration to this.
"Come on then, you've got to give me something here," said Barry.
"Well, there was the time I was in ancient Greece, Athens to be precise. I was supposed to be there dealing with a rogue time pirate who thought it was fun to play god, but I ended up discussing philosophy with this chap who refused to give me his name because he maintained that it was better to know nothing and know that I knew nothing. There was also a lot of drinking, and he could really hold his drink. It wasn't until I got back to the Waverider that I realised I'd been talking to…"
"Socrates," said Barry, with awe and his eyes wide, "you met Socrates."
Rip nodded, with a pleased smirk at his companion's reaction.
"You can't stop there. I mean, what was he like?"
"Rather strange," said Rip.
Barry held two pawns towards Rip. "Black or white?"
"Your choice," said Rip.
Barry took black and turned the board so that it faced in the correct direction.
"I was hoping for more information than just "rather strange"," said Barry.
"Well, if you win this game, I'll explain," replied Rip, with mischief in his eyes.
Barry cracked his knuckles. "I think I can manage that."
Ten moves later, when Rip had him in checkmate, Barry looked up at the former Time Master with disbelief.
"You said you were rusty," said Barry, accusatorially.
"Ah, yes, I did, and I am."
"That's rusty?" said the speedster, with utter dismay.
"Well, perhaps I should have mentioned that I once spent a pleasant week in Russia with Garry Kasparov who taught me how to play. My apologies for the omission, Barry, but I believe it was entirely worth it to see the look on your face right now." It wasn't necessarily that Barry had played badly, it was just that Rip had played better, but as he'd said, he had been taught to play by the best.
"I want a rematch," said Barry.
"Well, I do have quite a lot of time on my hands at the moment."
They reset the board and played again. Rip won. Rip won the next six games.
"That looks like it's going well," said Cisco, watching the monitor. Barry had just lost his eighth game to Rip, but seemed to think it was funny rather than frustrating.
"Yes, it makes a nice change for something to go right for once. I think they both needed this," said Caitlin.
"I'm still finding it a bit hard to believe that's the great, Captain Rip Hunter. The way that Team Legends talks about him, I thought he'd be taller, or more imposing, or something," said Cisco. "Do you remember when we were fighting the Dominators and they were all going on about how Captain Hunter would have known what to do? Well, except Mick Rory. He seemed to think Rip was an idiot, but you know, he's Heatwave."
"He's been through something terrible, Cisco. I doubt he's at his best right now," replied Caitlin. She understood what Cisco was saying, because her reaction had been similar, but she knew more about what had happened to Rip than Cisco did. She suspected the Rip Hunter was secretly very strong indeed, because he was still standing, and talking, and angry. If she'd had her mind so comprehensively violated, she doubted that she'd even be functional. She'd probably have curled up in a corner and given up all hope.
Joe West came into the room. "Barry said we had a guest. How's it going?"
"It's too early to really say," said Caitlin. "But Barry's enjoying being beaten at chess by him."
"Really? I've never managed to beat Barry. Well, maybe when he was like eleven, but not since then," said Joe.
"Huh," said Cisco. "It's never been my game. Far too old school, but Barry and the Fake Wells used to play all the time. I think Barry used to win a lot of their games, but maybe not all of them."
Caitlin smiled as she realised that Rip wasn't just a good chess player. He was a strategic thinker. That was something that she could work with. It meant that he'd probably got his own, perfectly logical reasons (to him), for believing that he was a murderer. If she could get to the bottom of what those were and work out where the fallacy was then she'd have a chance of helping him. She could explain where his thinking was flawed, and hopefully once Rip understood that he wasn't thinking this through clearly, they could actually get him to understand that he wasn't to blame.
An alarm sounded. Cisco switched his attention away from the screen to his metahuman monitoring program.
"We've got a robbery in progress," said Cisco. "It looks like it's downtown."
Caitlin pressed a button on the control panel and activated the speaker in Rip's room. "Barry, sorry to break up your game but we've got a robbery downtown."
Caitlin listened as Barry rapidly apologised, and exited the room at lightning speed after zipping through putting away the chess pieces. Rip seemed somewhat fascinated by this, but then sighed. He looked up at the camera.
"Thank you, Doctor Snow."
Caitlin pressed the button that would activate her microphone. "For what?"
"For that small reminder that I'm not alone. That I'm not the only one that Eobard Thawne has hurt." Rip examined his hands.
"I just thought you'd enjoy playing chess," replied Caitlin. "It's heading towards lunchtime, do you think you might be up for some food?"
Rip shook his head, but then seemed to reconsider. "I might be interested in a cup of tea though."
"I thought Englishmen liking tea was a stereotype," suggested Caitlin, certainly that's what Julian Albert had told her.
"Ah, but all stereotypes have to come from somewhere, Doctor Snow, and they often have some truth in them. I happen to like tea more than coffee."
"I'll bring it down for you, bear with me," said Caitlin. She left Cisco directing Barry into taking down some bank robbers, which both of them could manage with their hands tied behind their backs, and went to make Rip his tea. And if there happened to be a sandwich on the tray that she took to him, then that would just be coincidence.