A/N: As usual, thanks go to shyesplease for betareading and helping add some clarity to parts of it that needed it.


For two weeks, Caitlin lowkey worries about Barry Allen day and night. She doesn't want to, she should have better things to do, but she can't stop the multitide of questions that run through her head demanding answers she hasn't gotten her hands on, despite all the tests so far. Or more precisely, she worries about what they don't know, how they are not at all prepared for his, or any other metahumans', powers. The only thing that comes remotely close to alleviating that worry is her and Cisco brainstorming about what archetypes they might encounter. They know anyone who can slow him down, either thermally or metabolically, will be a big problem, but they don't have a clue what they can do about either possibility.

So Caitlin spends two weeks feeling a little sick in her stomach at not being prepared, only to find that feeling dwarfed by the knowledge of how much less prepared she is because they lied to her. Barry has been running into burning buildings without a care in the world and Cisco has been happily aiding and abetting his vigilantism.

In the silence of the lab, waiting for Barry to return - Cisco not even bothering to attempt to explain any of it - her head speeds through a list of the things she might have needed if he had gotten burned, things she knows they don't have and now it seems they ought to stock. Except Barry isn't meant to be a supersonic fireman and that's exactly what she drums home once he's standing in front of her.

Not that it does any good. Neither her or Wells get through to him. Right in that moment, she hates the feeling Barry inspires in her, that she has to feel anything at all, let alone worry about someone's intent to be so foolishly hopeful. She's quickly learning that Barry is not a realist and it doesn't seem he appreciates her outlook on any of what is happening, which frustrates her to no end. Perhaps that's why "Don't expect me to patch you up every time you break something." slips out before she can think much of it.

The instant it's out of her mouth she feels pretty awful, but she doesn't dare back down, immediately walking away before she can change her mind. She knows when push comes to shove, she will help him but he doesn't have to know that; it might be better to let him think she won't. Maybe then he won't go running recklessly toward danger if he thinks she won't help pick up the pieces afterwards.

Part of her thinks he's brave, wants him to do some good with his gifts. It's definitely better than what others, like Mardon, want to use theirs for. The problem is that there's a far larger part of her – a part so closely tied to instinct, to reacting in an instant - that knows categorically how dangerous playing hero can be and that's the part that keeps taking control of her mouth against her better judgment.

She shouldn't let it get to her, shouldn't let Barry Allen keep getting to her. It shouldn't matter if he chooses to be a fool and get himself killed. That is his choice. Yet she thinks of Joe, of Iris, of Doctor Wells' hope for figuring out Barry's healing; of everything they could learn from him, with him if he would just let them instead of constantly running off. He's meant to be a scientist, of a sort, surely he should understand how big this is, bigger than him or his need to play a hero that she isn't sure the city needs.


"You lied to us. How could you not tell us you're experiencing dizzy spells?"

For the second time in one day, Caitlin is fuming at one Barry Allen and yet another secret he has been keeping. This time it was kept from the whole of S.T.A.R. Labs, not that that fact eases the sting of being kept out of the loop once more. She's his doctor, but he doesn't appear to trust her, and she simply can't help him if he isn't willing to cooperate. Any scrap of information witheld might be vital; they just don't know when it comes to his body.

Her mind is in overdrive, flitting through the myriad options of what could be wrong, which comes out unfiltered and in rapid succession. She barely gives a damn about how worried he looks in return. Let him see how bad it could have been. She wants him to realise the gravity of the situation. She needs him to take this seriously, instead of casually like he has so far. Again, she finds herself storming off in order to go calm down, far away from him. At least this time she has work to do to to distract her, compiling a thorough checklist of tests she can focus on.

When they have a cause identified, that preoccupies her even more. Everything is helped infinitely by him being unconscious post the treadmill test. She can be professional so long as she doesn't have to look at his face and resist telling him off. As she goes over the data with Cisco and Wells, getting a clearer picture of the problem, she's relieved to realise she doesn't want to berate him too much anymore, especially when he'll probably wake up feeling awful as it is. The blackouts themselves sounded unpleasant and seem almost a kind of karmic payback for keeping the secret perhaps. They will figure out a longer term solution to his needs, but in the meantime they'll prop him up with the IV bags. It's a pretty significant breakthrough in their understanding of his physiology: another trajectory to come at it from is exciting for her, though Barry looks only annoyed when she explains.

What excitement she'd felt deflates when Joe West turns up, accusing them of not being smart enough, not being informed enough, and intimating that will get someone killed.

"You don't know what you don't know."

Joe's words hit her hard and the sentiment sits badly with her well after he's left, because he's right. It's what she has worried about herself for weeks, what she wants to prevent but how can she when no one is taking it seriously. Not Barry and not Cisco. Even her and Wells being onboard with Barry helping only against other metahumans is a risk, one they're willing to accept for the benefit, where as Joe isn't.

It's then that she feels awful for deeming that scenario more important, conveniently the scenario that is one of the few ways they can make up for the mistake they've made here with the particle accelerator. But it doesn't matter what she prioritises, she hears Barry say he'll do it anyway. They can't stop him. She can't stop him. The least harm she can do, if she can't change his mind, is being resigned to helping him, the same as Dr Wells and Cisco.

So when Barry comes limping back sheepishly, very thoroughly beaten up, of course she reneges on her earlier threat and treats his wounds. It doesn't help that she's sort of fascinated by watching him heal, even as she feels guilty since it's only possible when he's hurt. She doesn't want him in danger, but it does present a unique opportunity. There's the thrill awakening inside her again, at the possibilities this presents. But Barry isn't research, he's a person. She tries to temper her curiousity with the concern for him that isn't hard to pull back up from before, though she pointedly doesn't say I told you so. What she doesn't expect is for him to give up so easily in the face of this defeat. She doesn't expect to feel disappointment in amongst the relief.

She also doesn't entirely expect to be able to grow an entire clone of Danton Black. It's strange to be calling Barry back to the labs for a crash course in Black's weakness and to find him being the one who is faltering. The Barry she knows - not that she knows him that well so far - has always been hopeful, and stubborn, with a clear goal ahead of him, even if that goal has often been to get the tests over and done with as fast as possible. This uncertainy isn't a side of his personality they've seen previously.

Joe is the person who gets through Barry's haze of doubt, who convinces him to get back out there and take Black on. And for all her and Dr Wells talk through the facts with Barry over the comms, with the aim of reminding him of his goal, Joe is also the person who manages to get Barry to believe in himself again, to believe in what he's trying to do. What we're trying to do, she thinks, because she realizes they have to support him. No one can do this alone and Barry probably would die trying. She just hopes he doesn't die today, they need that hope – of a better city - to stay alive with him.

They wait with bated breath, the atmosphere tense until Joe breaks the silence to ask Barry if he's alright, worry clear in his voice, in his repetition of Barry's name at no immediate reply.

"I'm fine," Barry says finally, with a huff of breath from his exertion, before he reconfirms it. "I'm fine. It's done."

Caitlin looks around to the relieved faces, feeling a heady mix of emotions. The remnant of fear fused with culmination of their victory. She feels like they can do this. She feels like she wants to do this. It's a strange epiphany for her, but she knows from Barry's words later – You're all out there with me...we were all struck by that lightning - and Cisco's reaction to them, that she is not the only one feeling it. They can do this together. They can make things better. And none of them have to do it alone.


"Barry, an armored car was just hijacked on Griffin Avenue. Get your ass over there."

As she directs Barry to yet another crime scene, there's still a worry that knaws at her and feeds into her deepest fears, a worry about what being a hero will entail and what cost it might come at, but she has a goal now too.

Importantly, she has a distraction from the worry as well with that. She's drawn up a comprehensive plan and taken stock of her supplies. She knows she'll need items to treat burns at the very least if Barry is going to continue to leap to the rescue where firefighters normally do, and for surgery in the worst case. She has to get prepared, ready for anything. In the meantime, she'll do everything she can, everything to the best of her ability, human as it is.

And because Caitlin Snow has always been somewhat of an overachiever, she figures it can't hurt to to learn the police dispatch codes. For efficiency's sake of course - she isn't entirely ready to admit she finds it fun, though she's still smiling anyway.