A/N: Okay, so roughly two to three more chapters to go before the story is all finished! The next chapter has all the action, and I'll try to get it up ASAP! Reviews, subscriptions and favorites are appreciated!
"What on earth were you thinking?" Dr. Wells' voice is laced with iron as he rolls up and down, pausing to glare at Barry, who hangs his head accordingly. "I told you that we would figure out a way to deal with him!"
"I'll heal," Barry says groggily, rubbing his temples.
The sharp smell of antiseptic fills the small room. Barry's bruises have healed remarkably quickly, but Caitlin's latex-encased hands still quake as she unscrews the bottle of antiseptic, remembering how Barry's had stubbornly refused to wake, no matter how loudly she'd shouted or pleaded. She feels fear choke her throat. It had been a close call. If she and Cisco hadn't gotten there on time . . .
Dr. Wells' voice raises, his anger flaring. "You can't heal when you're dead."
A strangled squeak rips its way from Caitlin's throat and the bottle slips from her frozen fingers. It bounces across the silver veined floor, spilling bright green liquid onto the marble. She scrambles to pick the plastic bottle up, knowing that Barry would have been able to catch it if he weren't so exhausted from battling Tony. Forcing breath into her lungs, Caitlin grabs a rag, mopping at the mess on the floor until the cloth is soaked in antiseptic and there is no trace of the accident.
"Caitlin?" Barry lifts his head up and stares at her.
Even exhausted and bruised, the boy is still caring for others. Her throat tightens, and she shakes her head.
Deciding that antiseptic wipes will be safer, Caitlin swipes some across the cut on Barry's cheek. It is shallow, not as bad as it was in the car. There is a sharp intake of breath from Barry, but he doesn't make any moves away from her ministrations. She closes her eyes on a sigh of frustration, fear speeding up her breathing and her heartbeat. She doesn't know what she's apologizing for. "I'm sorry."
"He could have killed you." Dr. Wells barks at Barry.
Frustration colors Barry's tone; Caitlin gives him a gentle shove and a nod to signal that she's done, and Barry strides out of the make-shift infirmary. "I know, alright, I know!"
"In the past thirty-six hours, I've had my ass handed to me twice by the same guy who tortured me as a kid." Barry stokes Caitlin's distress and frustration with her own. She presses her lips together in a thin line, and focuses on clearing up her medical supplies. "I couldn't stop him then, and I can't stop him now. Even with my powers, I'm still powerless against him!"
Dr. Wells' expression closes and darkens. "Not necessarily. Cisco?"
Recognizing his cue, Cisco, who has been completely silent throughout Barry's outburst, scurries over to the computer at his desk. Caitlin pulls off her rubber gloves with a snap, and tosses them in the bin, along with the soaked rag and the empty bottle that once held antiseptic.
"Any material, if struck at a high enough velocity, can be compromised."
Cisco pipes up from the background. "We ran more tests on the metal in Tony's footprints. Based on its density and atomic structure, if you impact it at just the right angle, at just the right speed, you could do some serious damage."
This is a bad idea. Arms akimbo, Caitlin is seized by a sudden unease that hovers over her gut and tightens its fingers on her bowels. Her stomach pitches with nerves.
"How fast would I have to go?" Barry's expression clouds.
"Factoring in the metal's tensile strength, estimated thermal thickness, atmosphere pressure, air temp . . ." Cisco's fingers fly over the keyboard as he taps out an equation rapid-fire. "You'd have to hit him at approximately Mach one-point-one."
"So, let me get this straight." Caitlin decides that now is a good time as any to intervene. Her tone is sharp and biting. "You want Barry to hit a moving target at eight hundred miles an hour?"
Cisco is shaking his head before she has even finished her sentence. "Eight hundred and thirty-seven, actually."
"That's faster than the speed of sound!" Worry eats at Caitlin's forced calm.
"I know!" Cisco rubs his hands together like a child; normally, Caitlin loves seeing the sparkle of enthusiasm in his eyes, but today, her stomach twists itself into knots and fear clamps her gut. "You might even create a sonic boom, which, as I've said before, would be awesome!"
Barry shakes his head, ashen and stooped. "I've never gone that fast."
"Yet." Dr. Wells remarks, with quiet confidence.
"I can't believe that we're actually entertaining this idea!" The words burst out of her before Caitlin can change her mind. She takes angry strides forward, a panic induced rage fueling her actions. "I mean, he'd need a straight shot from miles away! And what, you think Tony's just going to stand there and let Barry hit him?" She exhales a pitiful laugh that is tinged with hysteria; Barry turns to stare warily at her, like she is a wild animal in a cage.
"Yeah, five point three miles, theoretically." Cisco says this so matter-of-factly that she wonders if she's misheard him.
"Do it right, and you'll take him down." Dr. Wells says mildly, as though they are merely talking about the weather forecast for today.
"Do it wrong, and you'll shatter every bone in your body." Caitlin shakes her head, already backing away.
Barry tries to grab her when she runs past him towards the door. It doesn't matter if there are repercussions; she has to find a quiet place to breathe. The walls are folding in on her. The world spins too fast, with colors too bright for her eyes, sounds too loud in her ears. Caitlin can taste the terror she'd first felt when she found Barry in the factory. The taste is sharp and coppery on her tongue like old pennies.
The stars shine brightly and a full moon spotlights the shadows and shades of vegetation. Grays, blacks, blues and browns compete with whites and ecrus, a battle of light and dark around her. Caitlin sags against a tree, crumpling into herself. Barry might have super healing, but even his powers have limits. And his total and utter disregard for his own safety is icing on the cake. It's as if a dam has broken. Tears pool in her eyes and track down her cheeks. Caitlin scrubs at her cheeks and eyes with the back of her wrist, until her eyes are red and raw.
A sudden gust of wind sends tendrils of russet colored hair flying. She slings a glance behind her, but finds it empty. Barry is standing beside her, not touching her, but close enough for Caitlin to feel his presence, his expression sheepish. He rubs his hands along his denim-clad thighs. His feet tap out a rapid cadence on the gravel, apparently too anxious to stay still.
"Caitlin? Are you – Oh, crap. Crap." Barry sounds panicked. "I'm sorry. I . . . Oh, crap."
More tears prick her lids. Caitlin sniffs them back. "I thought you were dead."
"I'm sorry." He keeps repeating.
The tears come in a flash flood. "You could die. It's too risky."
Barry swallows, but doesn't disagree. He leans closer, tentatively wrapping his arms around her. "But it's the only way."
No, it's not.
"It's okay." Barry acts as if he can chase the bad away. Even when his possible death looms, he is still offering her comfort that she does not deserve. "Everything will be okay."
The sobs come one, then the next, with barely a pause to breathe as her frame is racked with the release of so many built-up emotions. Barry lets her cry it out, lets the front of his shirt run cold and damp with her tears as she clings to him and burrows closer, letting his heat warm her and ease her into a calm that belies the tempest of emotions raging about within her. Since Ronnie has died, no one else's arms have made her feel safe. Loved. Protected.
"It's okay." He murmurs into her hair, whispering words of reassurance, tracing soothing circles on her back.
It's okay. It's okay. Caitlin repeats the words like a mantra until she actually starts to believe it. It's okay.