Guys...I can't believe we got an episode about a city of gorillas. This is everything I've ever wanted from this show. We've made it.

Enjoy the chapter!

"Get away from him."

When Cisco lifted his hand, his aim was true. Gideon had scarcely turned his head when the vibrational blasts hit him square in the chest. His mouth opened in a silent cry of surprise, and he soared backward across the floor.

Adrenaline pumped through Cisco's blood, angry and hot, as he jogged across the floor to Barry and knelt. The story told itself—the empty syringe on the ground, Barry's pale and maskless face, the whining nature of each inhale, and the random spasms in the speedster's body.

"Hey man," Cisco said, putting a hand bracingly on his friend's chest. "I've got you. I tried to reach you. I got here as fast as I could."

"Gid—deon," Barry stammered.

"It's okay, he's—" But Cisco cut himself off when he looked up and realized that Gideon had vanished. His heart plummeted. He was just beginning to rise to his feet when an unseen boot connected with his face with a resounding thwack! and a kalaeidoscope of pain.

When Cisco finally managed to blink away the spots in his vision, he was lying flat on the cement, and he tasted blood. He scrambled to his feet, spitting out the coppery substance as he went. There was no trace of Gideon, no hint as to his location, no movement in the dark.

"Have to…stop him…" Barry gritted out, trying and falling to roll to the side.

"I know, I know, but I can't see him." Cisco understood the severity of the situation as well as Barry; if Gideon even got close to one of the water tanks, it would be too late for all of them.

They were running out of time.

Then a thought, crazy, dawned on him. He'd never done it before, he was unsure if it would work, but in theory…

He took a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders. He had a brief thought of Luke, use the force as he closed his eyes, and it drew a faint smile to his lips.

It was like meditating, really. He took slow, even breaths. He tuned out the ticking clock, tuned out the throbbing of his face, tuned out even his dying friend at his feet and his dying friends ten miles away. Instead, he tuned into something intangible, the source of his powers. He tapped into the filaments of vibrational energy in the air around him. Instead of scooping them all up in a bunch and hurling them outward, he listened. He listened to the delicacy of each individual strand.

He saw, or rather felt, Gideon, in what he could only describe as a process of echolocation. He felt the disturbance of the vibrational energy, distinctly human-shaped, elevated to visible levels because of the electrical energy Gideon was pulling from.

It was so simple, Cisco couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it sooner. Once he'd located the man, he gathered up all of the restless energy around him and shot it forward. He opened his eyes just as the blast connected. Gideon materialized and rammed backward into the tank, his head connecting with a sickening crack before he crumpled to the ground.

A direct hit. Cisco allowed himself a tiny, private smile of pride.

It didn't last for long, though. The time for pride had to come after the time for action. And there was still more action to be taken. Without hesitation this time, Cisco jogged across the floor and kicked the vial of toxin away from Gideon's reach, even though it was evident Gideon would not be reaching for it again.

"Someone…has to do something." Gideon coughed weakly, and Cisco kneeled down to his level. The man was pale, his gaze unfocused. "We are all responsible."

His eyes started to wander, so Cisco grabbed him by the front of the shirt. "Where is the antidote?" No response. Cisco shook him. He shook a dying man, and he felt nothing. "Tell me. Where. The antidote. Is." You have nothing to lose by telling me now, he thought.

And I have so much to lose by you not telling me, he added silently.

Gideon's lashes fluttered. What was killing him? Was it the force of Cisco's vibrational blasts? Or had those just exacerbated an existing problem? Cisco would deal with the remorse later.

"It's too late," Gideon said. "The vial is broken."

"You're lying," Cisco breathed, but the spike of nausea in his stomach believed otherwise. Gideon had no reason to lie now, not when his grand plan for catastrophe had failed—what did he care for the other catastrophe, the one imminent at STAR Labs?

Gideon coughed weakly, and all of the fight drained from Cisco's body. He released his grip on the front of Gideon's shirt, the hopelessness numbing him as effectively as a nerve toxin.

"Lie still," said Cisco. "I'll send help."

But Gideon's eyelids fluttered, and his exhale was too long. He would give no response, no confession. Cisco rose to his feet and tried not to look back. Instead he focused on the living man in the room—he had to focus on keeping him living.

"Barry," he breathed, sinking down onto the concrete again. The speedster gasped for air, his lips turning blue. "Stay with me, man. You're gonna be okay."

"Go." The speedster choked on the word, his body jerking. "Leave me. Save 'ris 'n Cait."

"I'm not leaving you," Cisco said, and he dug around in his coat for the syringe he'd brought. When his fumbling fingers found it, he drew it from his pocket. It went gingerly between his teeth for safekeeping while he peeled off one of Barry's gloves and rolled up the tight sleeve. Once a suitable vein was bared, Cisco took the syringe from his teeth and braced his free hand on Barry's arm. "Hold still, alright? Just…try to breathe."

But Barry's eyes were beginning to roll up into his head, consciousness evaporating like shallow water on a hot day. With no time left to agonize, Cisco slid the needle of the syringe under Barry's skin and released its contents into his bloodstream.

For a minute, one awful, awful minute, Cisco thought it hadn't worked. Barry showed no signs of change. His chest stuttered up and down with such an inconstancy that Cisco feared each one. The spasming of his muscles grew weaker, less frequent.

The terror was so great, Cisco couldn't even bring himself to speak. If Barry died—if Barry died, then Caitlin and Iris would quickly follow. And then Cisco would lose everyone, every single one of them, in one fell swoop. A tidal wave of loss that he was certain he would never recover from.

But then, too soft for Cisco to initially believe, Barry wheezed, "'sco?"

Cisco perked up, leaned forward. "Still here. I'm still here, Barry. Slow breaths. That's it." Barry's eyes struggled open again as his breathing returned with agonizing lethargy. "That's it. It's okay. Take it easy."

Finally, after what felt like hours of maddening sluggishness, Barry's chest rose and fell unfettered. A shudder passed through him and he grimaced. He face was shiny with sweat, but some of the color had returned to his cheeks and lips. He remained prone, but his now-clear eyes sought out Cisco.

"What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," Cisco admitted. "It was all Caitlin. She sent through another fax right after you left with an idea for an improvised anti-toxin. She thought that a specific compound might react with your blood in such a way that it would fight the nerve agent." He shrugged. "You had the right ingredients at CCPD, except your blood, obviously. So when I couldn't reach you through the comms, I figured I should find you myself."

"Good thing you did," Barry groaned, simultaneously squeezing his eyes shut and squeezing his fingers. Cisco hadn't even realized he'd been holding his hand until he felt the pressure in his palm. "You cant've known that would work."

"No," said Cisco. "It was just a hunch. But it was the only hunch we had."

Still gulping in air, Barry pushed himself shakily to a sitting position. "Thanks for saving my life."

"Thank Caitlin," Cisco said.

Barry bowed his head and nodded, collecting himself. When he looked up again, he had that exhausted, yet determined, look that meant he was about to do something he probably shouldn't. "We have a cure now. We need to get back."

Under normal circumstances, Cisco might have told him to stay down, you almost just died. But even he knew that request was unreasonable. Both of them would literally drop dead before wasting time on rest, and Cisco recognized that. He knew what needed to be done, and Barry's comfort did not trump any of that. Instead of needlessly protesting, he gripped Barry's hand tighter and helped him to his feet. Then he watched the world blur.

Everyone talked about the nightmare of not being able to run from your demons. Of having legs too leaden to lift, of being too slow to create distance between yourself and the thing with teeth that snapped at your ankles.

Barry had once admitted that it was a recurring nightmare for him, especially since getting his powers. Cisco and Iris had chimed in that they recognized the basic conceit of the dream, having experienced something similar themselves. But Caitlin—Caitlin had always had other nightmares, perhaps too many to allow space for this one.

But now she was experiencing it for herself, in real time, with the kind of tangibility that simply couldn't be acquired in dreams. She now, at last, understood what was so terrifying about not being able to move one's legs.

She clawed at the wall for support as she walked, tripping over herself as she went. Her legs were like pins and needles before the pins and needles could start. They were dead weights, somehow bigger and more unwieldy than they had ever been. It was a miracle she was even upright; she recognized that, and yet, she kept pushing forward.

It was only thirty feet from the fax machine to the medical bay, but she felt as though she'd been walking for hours.

Once she made it inside the darkened medical bay, she leaned against one of the beds and fumbled open one of the cabinets. A small cooler stayed padlocked at all times; with the likes of Eiling and others out there, Barry's blood was a precious commodity and one that could be dangerous if put into the wrong hands.

Despite all of these valid reasons to keep the fridge locked, Caitlin deeply regretted the padlock now. Her fingers were just as senseless as her legs, shaky and uncontrollable. It took her four tries and four precious minutes to get the combination right, and even then it took a good deal of effort to get the lock from the door and pry open the fridge.

Her heart sank as she looked inside and saw only one vial of blood remaining. Not enough to make an antitoxin for both her and Iris.

But enough to make one batch for Iris. And that thought, alone, lit the spark again. With renewed purpose, Caitlin collected the cold vial and straightened.

It was thirty feet from the medical bay to her workroom, where she kept the compound necessary for mixing with the blood. Thirty feet. She'd made the trip once. She could make it again.

"Did you find the blood?" Iris called weakly.

"I did," Caitlin affirmed. "I just need to mix it with the compound."

I can save you, she added silently. Don't worry, Iris. I'm going to save you.

She was halfway to her work station when her leg went as weak as jelly. As numb as it was, she didn't immediately understand why she was suddenly tipping sideways. She'd gotten so dizzy the past hour, the sensation wasn't unusual. But then her cheek hit the linoleum, her vision went black, and something crashed.

She blinked her awareness back with great effort, gripping to consciousness with claws of pure willpower. It would be easy to go to sleep right now—a quick, simple death—but she hadn't made it this far to give up on Iris now.

"Cait?" Iris was saying, somewhere distant. "Are you okay?"

Caitlin lifted her head. The world swam with white, everywhere white, except for one spot just to her right. A red splotch on the floor, dark and angry amid a kaleidoscope of broken glass.

The world collapsed. Buried her.

"No, I'm not," she whispered. "It's over. It's all over."

"Was that the last of the blood?" Iris said.

Caitlin couldn't even bring herself to nod. She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to the floor and welcomed the sensation of everything leaving her. The pain, the words, the hope. It was easier this way, being empty, knowing there was nothing left to be done. If she died quickly, she might even be able to escape the gouging out of utter failure.

"Get up," said Iris. "Caitlin, get up. This isn't on you, and you are not leaving me now. Stand up."

Caitlin considered it, considered the options. Once she thought about it, she did get up—just enough to crawl the distance to Iris. Once she made it to the woman's side, she at last allowed herself to sit.

She sat facing outward, the cold cortex a reminder of her shortcomings, the cold fingertips and toes a promise. Iris was the only thing warm in this place. She could sense that much, at least, at her back.

She let out a long, deep breath that it felt as though she'd been holding for ages. Sitting was nice. It was simple. She closed her eyes.

"Do you want to know something terrible?" Iris said, broaching that terrible heavy silence that was piling up like snow. "I've been lying here thinking about what I'm going to miss most when I'm dead."

She waited, perhaps for Caitlin to inquire further. Caitlin didn't have the energy, so Iris continued:

"My family. All of you at STAR Labs. My job." A pause. "You know what I came up with?"

"What?"

"Chocolate."

A laugh tore its way out of Caitlin's throat, and a pure, genuine smile stretched its way across her face. "Oh, God, yes."

The laughter continued a few more moments, but gradually the hugeness of the lab swallowed it up whole. The smile at Caitlin's lips turned downward. She pushed backward, suddenly needing the support of the wall against her spine to keep her upright. Another sigh stole breath.

"Caitlin, are you afraid?"

Caitlin stared at the flashing red warning lights, darkness creeping around the edges of her vision.. "I'm trying not to be."

"Is it working?"

"No."

She looked down, tears misting in her eyes. They'd both faced death many times, too many times to count. Now that it was death was wrapping its fingers around their throats, it felt neither comfortable nor ordinary.

Gently, unexpectedly, Iris' hand found hers. Her warmth pressed into Caitlin's palm, just searching fingers in a whirling void of uncertainty. The only anchor Caitlin needed. Not enough, but something.

Caitlin closed her fingers over Iris', and they greeted the dark with watchful quiet.

Thanks so much for reading! Can you tell what my ships are?

I look forward to hearing your thoughts on the chapter and the probability of painful deaths for our favorite characters. See you Sunday!

Till next time,

Penn