Sorry this took so long. Started a new job and it's been rough getting a schedule together. but here it is!

This chapter is dedicated to the memory of Rollo, my roommate's family's little calico kitty, who passed away recently. Rest easy in the summerlands, little one.

Chapter 7

Barry was pretty sure he'd been in worse situations before. Still, running down the highway after Captain Cold and his sister with no Nyoom streaking alongside him, and still no clue as to where Cisco was or what Cold had done to get a new Cold gun and whatever sparkly toy his sister had, he sure couldn't remember worse. Maybe something from before the cats, when he'd lost his speed fighting Farooq, except at least then he'd had an excuse for failing his friends so badly.

Up ahead he could see the taillights of a truck, hardly visible and swerving as a couple motorcycles closed in. Something bright and yellow blasted the trucks side and Barry was on it in less than a heartbeat, pulling Cold off his bike in one fluid motion and sending his gun skittering. He knew he should probably deal with the truck, but at the moment he couldn't bring himself to care—they weren't civilians, but members of that crime family, the Santinis, one that had landed Joe in the hospital for a week back when he was in college. They could take care of themselves, and with any luck they'd get caught for driving with knocked out taillights—most of that money was probably laundered.

Barry released his grip on Cold's parka once they were far enough from the road that "Lisa" wouldn't be able to get there in a hurry. Barry narrowed his eyes, glaring as Cold pulled back his hood.

"Hello, Barry."

Barry felt as though he'd been shot in the gut with Snart's gun, like his lungs were turning to ice. "What. Did. You. Do. To. Him?"
Snart smirked. "He's in one piece, for now. Though if I don't make a very particular phone call in the next three minutes and fourteen seconds, well, that changes."

Barry lunged forward, grabbing the older man's parka by the collar. "Where is he?"

"Now, why would I tell you that?"

Lucy meowed as Cisco moved gingerly towards the door, awkward partly to avoid stepping on tails of his fluffy rescuers, and partly because he wasn't exactly sure how much longer he could stand. He was hungry and tired and his face and ribs ached. At least he still had his shoes, even if he didn't have a car or any clue where he was. Maybe he could hotwire whatever Rory had, but maybe he'd be better off just finding neighbors. Barry was about to walk right into a trap, and Snart still had his phone hidden somewhere. He had to warn Barry.
Again Lucy mewed, twining around his legs as Fuzzwhump continued to purr and lick at his hands and still bound wrists, her fur fluffed with worry. As they crossed the threshold, meaning to find an exit as soon as possible, Cisco stumbled with a short cry—he wasn't in the dimly lit office/dining room/whatever that he'd remembered , but a suddenly cramped, dark space. For a moment he couldn't breath, sure that it had just been another waking dream, that he was still in the closet with Mick Rory and his gun outside, but then Fuzzwhump shifted , balanced in his arms, her soft, familiar weight soothing. She chirped her usual greeting noise, no panic or anger evident in it, and he reached out slowly, careful not to let her drop. The handle of the door turned easily, and now that he could breathe the air smelled different, not like carpets and wood polish and sweat, but cleaning sprays and linoleum and catnip.
The bright light that spilled in was fluorescent and bright and familiar. Somehow, Lucy had done like her Narnian namesake and brought him home by way of a Star labs storage closet.

He stumbled again as Lucy vanished from between his legs and returned with more cats, all of them it seemed except for Scrap and Nyoom, but he was too busy to count them, half sprinting now to the cortex.

Caitlin and Doctor Wells were at the long desk that served as the comm station, their backs too him. Barry's suit was gone. I'm too late. Caitlin heard his approach and whirled around as over the line, Snart said Barry's name. Cisco's stomach dropped.

"What. Did. You. Do. To. Him?"

Barry's voice echoed from the computer, and Caitlin gave a muffled squeak.
"I—I'm here," Cisco panted. "I—"

"Oh, god, Cisco!" Caitlin was on her feet in seconds, seizing a first aid kit and pulling him into a tight hug while trying to guide him to a chair. Fuzzwhump protested being squished, and Caitlin let go, her face pale.

"How did you escape?" Wells asked, the slight frown lessening as Apricot leaped onto his lap.
"I didn't."

"He let you go?" Wells asked as Snart's voice came over loud and clear from the comms.

"He's in one piece, for now. Though if I don't make a very particular phone call in the next three minutes and fourteen seconds, well, that changes."

"No," Cisco said as Caitlin cut at the ropes around his wrists with a pair of far too small scissors. He reached for the switch at the station that would let Barry hear them. "Barry, don't listen to him, I'm fine, the cats took out Rory."

"Cisco? Where are you?"

"With the others. I'm sorry, I—"

"Don't be." The relief was clear in Barry's voice. Cisco leaned back and let Caitlin finish cutting him free, his gut still roiling. Barry cut the com link off, but he'd be back soon, probably, and he'd probably never trust him again. Not that he should, hadn't this proved all that?
As if she could read his mind, Fuzzwhump mewed and pushed her head under his hand.

(Sco no sad. Sco home. I protect.)

Caitlin was trying to clean a cut under his eye—he wasn't sure when he'd gotten it, but everything suddenly hurt a lot more. The adrenalin had to have fully worn off by now, and it had been a long time since he'd last slept or eaten. Frieda seemed to realize this, darting off and returning with one of Barry's calorie bars. Cisco looked startled, and took it without opening it.
"Thanks, kitty."
"What happened?" Doctor Wells asked after a moment, wheeling closer. Fuzzwhump hissed and climbed Cisco's shirt, clinging and trembling. Cisco pried her off his chest gently, cradling her. He didn't speak, just scratched Fuzzwhump's ears as other cats trickled into the room, arranging themselves around and on him. Frieda and Georgia were twin lumps over his feet, Faulkner over his left knee, Sue curled up on the desk next to him purring her heart out while Felix and Greebo draped themselves over the back of his neck and shoulders.
"He knew Barry's name." Caitlin said quietly. "He had the cold gun. We checked, and it's still in pieces in the store room. He made you make a new one?"

Cisco nodded miserably, his throat tight. Wells had been very clear in his warning about Cisco making another mistake, after the first time the gun had been stolen.
There was a crackle of static, and Barry burst into the cortex, Nyoom on his heels, and Scrap close behind, back in tennis-ball size.

"Cisco! Thank god. How did you get away, what happened?" Barry was at his side in a flash, giving Felix an ear-rub without taking his eyes from the spreading bruise across Cisco's eye and cheek.

"I think Scrap did her bear thing. I don't know how the cats found me, but they did, and Lucy—it's not just closets in the same room or building. She got me—us—all here. From—I don't know. It was dark." His face twisted. "I'm sorry, Barry. I—he had my brother. He said, he'd kill him, if I didn't tell, and—If it had just been me, I never—"

"No." Barry said it more vehemently than he meant, and Fuzzwhump took offense at the tone, glaring at him and lashing her tail. Barry softened his voice. "Don't say that. It's not your fault. You're my friend."

"But I told him who you were!" Cisco burst out, only the weight of kittens keeping him from leaping up.

Barry took a deep breath. "And I put you in that position. We had a—talk. He knows who I am, but he also knows that if he so much as comes near you guys, or my family, or your families, I don't care who he tells. Pipeline might even be too good for him, if you ask me." Barry shook his head. "Besides, he knows Barry Allen's name. In case you haven't noticed, the only friends and family of Barry Allen besides my dad are cops, related to cops, or already connected to the Flash." He paused, and picked up Nyoom, who added her purr to the mix. With that soothing bassline, Cisco felt his heart slowing to normal, even if he still felt like throwing up. "Or under the Arrow's protection, if Snart goes after Felicity, I'm pretty sure we'd hear about him getting shot full of arrows on the news."
"You aren't mad?" Cisco whispered it, but everyone heard.
"No." Doctor Wells said firmly. "Snart may be more of a problem now, but we've faced him before. And, the way these metakitties—yes, I said it—are turning out, the problems may not be so dire."

"If he'd given me the choice, at the casino," Barry said, "to tell him myself and he'd let you go, I'd have done it. So don't blame yourself for this."

Caitlin nodded. "You're family."

Cisco blinked back tears, but nodded, finding himself in the midst of a group hug/kitten cuddle pile, with even Doctor Wells putting a hand on his arm, until Fuzzwhump bit it.

"She's been freaking out all day. You've got a little lioness there." Barry said.

"My champion." Cisco meant it as a joke, but it was true. Fuzzwhump licked his face.

(yes. Lioness. Bite the wheelman, bite the nasty smellbad man. Keep Sco safe.)

Surveying his trashed apartment, Cisco sighed. "Fuzz, if you and the others hadn't earned all the tuna and salmon and whatever else you want for life, you'd be in so much trouble."
His bookshelf had been completely knocked over, the hideous vase that his Tia Delores had insisted he take was in pieces on the floor, and papers were scattered everywhere. The lamp had plowed into the chair, scuffing the floor, and his rack of nerfguns had been pulled from the wall, leaving several holes in the plaster.
That was just the living room. How had one small kitten made this much damage in a kitten-proofed apartment?

"Fuzz, don't give me that look." Cisco flopped onto his bed, burying his face in a mostly intact pillow.

Fuzz ignored him kneeding her paws into his back before wriggling under his arm and purring like thunder.

(was worried. Was scare. Love Sco.) she mewed.

He couldn't stay mad.
Maybe that was Fuzzwhump's power, he thought as he stared to fall asleep, her soft fur against his cheek.

"This can't be right." Dante frowned at the paper a nurse had just handed him before leaving him with a very pretty doctor. "I don't have insurance, and I know—you people charge an arm and a leg for ER services, and staying overnight." He glanced at his bandaged hands. "Or two hands."

The doctor quirked a smile. "Like the bill says, it's covered."

"Yeah, right. What is this?"

He'd only woken up a half hour before, it had been late when the woman had shoved him and a panicky Rita through the doors and bolted, and he hadn't wanted to let go of the kitten, her tail all frozen and his hands all black. He remembered a nurse or medic taking the wallet that was balanced opposite Rita, for his ID, and a doctor looking at his hands, and not much else. Had he been sedated? According to the bill, yes, but the price, astronomically high, was still at $0.00 in the "payment owed."
The whole thing was very fishy. And Rita was gone.
The doctor smiled again, the way she had as she explained how he was to take care of his hands.

"It's covered. You were lucky, Mr. Ramon."

"Dante."

"You were lucky, Dante. Your cat may have saved your hands. As it is, you'll need some physical therapy, but you should be fine. Your cat, too. She lost the last inch of her tail, but she'll be ok. Address for the vet is on that paper, it's just a halfblock down the street. And before you panic, that's covered too. I think Carol'd have helped for free, not every vet can say she's treated a superpowered cat."

Dante nodded mechanically, then realized that this girl was not fazed by invisible cat. The nurse seemed to read his mind.

"Stranger things have happened, and we've all been given some training for the weird stuff, in the last year and a half. Look, you're pretty much set as soon as you can scrawl out the check out papers. We can set up some PT appointments a little later, but you got here pretty quick, so there doesn't look like they'll be any lasting issues."

"I still don't understand this whole "covered" thing," Dante said, grumpy. He looked closer at the paper. "I don't know any J.L. Gid—"

"The J.L. Gideon foundation's a mystery, I'll give you that. No one seems to know anything about it, and the money's untraceable, but it's real, and it's a help. Money for anyone who comes in as a victim of any of the Flash's enemies, any collateral damage, crossfires, for medical bills. My brother's in construction, says they get donations too."

Dante frowned again. Good, it was the least the Flash could do, getting them into that mess. His eyes widened suddenly as he remembered, Cisco.

The doctor continued. "And no matter what you tried to say last night about liquid nitrogen, I know that frostbite pattern. My brother's a cop, he's faced that Snart guy. Probably be dead if not for STAR Labs and their tech." she glanced at him. "You're related to the kid who built those shields, aren't you? Francisco Ramon?"

Dante nodded, trying to control his breathing.

"I thought so. Anyway, so I took the liberty of not believing your accident BS and filed it under the Gideon protocol. It'll cover this, your cat's tail surgery, any follow up stuff."

"Thank you. But I need to go, now, my brother—"
"He's in trouble?"

Dante took a breath, then nodded.

"That kind of trouble?" She pointed at his hands.

Another nod.

"I'll sign you out if you promise to go to the cops and not do anything stupid."

Two cats raced in through the open door, accompanied by a few cries of alarm from down the hall, or rather, one cat and one bobbing bit of bandage.

(Pianoman, is ok. Hurts but is ok. Missed you. You ok? You hurting?)

"Hey, You." Dante said to the invisible lump of kitty that was now sitting on his lap, mewing at him.
Cisco was not far behind.

Iris stared at her screen, the word document cursor blinking. She had a story, all right, but now that it was on the page, details stood out. The Flash had interrupted a robbery/attack on a casino, saved a bunch of civilians, and let the guy—the same one who'd kidnapped Caitlin back in January—go.
He'd also, according to the witnesses she'd tracked down, had an accomplice, a grey and white cat.
No one had seen the cat before around two weeks ago, and the blurry security footage had shown a very familiar kitty.
Flash Cat, as she's posted on her blog, looked a lot like Barry's new cat, Nyoom.
Add to that, Flash had backed off after a conversation—her witness hadn't heard exactly, but some kind of threat. The same day that the CCPD gotten a noise complaint from a Doreen Cantwell, who filed them fairly often, but this time more agitated, and another resident of the building had reported what sounded like murder next door. Iris had snooped, like any good, gumption filled Nancy Drew, and found that the apartment in question belonged to Barry's friend, her friend, Cisco.
Who had built the shields that had saved Eddie's life from Snart back in January.

Who, according to the logs she'd looked at, had confiscated the weapon that Snart had clearly gotten back. The wheels in her mind turned.

Cisco. Caitlin. Flash Cat. Barry acting so strange, canceling their lunch date. Not a date. Nyoom at a crime scene. Barry always disappearing on her, or showing up out of nowhere.
She looked at Goldie. Goldie looked back.
That was another thing. She didn't know if Eddie'd figured it out, but Goldie and Bear were not normal. If she could accept a man turning to steel, she could accept cats that knew lies from truth, even when she herself didn't, right?
It made her head hurt, but she'd done some tests, simple ones, and there had been no co-incidence. There was no such thing as co-incidence, not here, not anymore, not when it came to her cats.
Nyoom and Goldie and Bear had all been together, at Star Labs. And Barry's boss, the CSI director, had called about a group meeting, asked if things were odd, so it wasn't just her.
If all those cats had powers….and Barry knew, he'd have to know, he wasn't stupid, then…what?

Iris blinked tiredly and drank the rest of her coffee. She rubbed her temple, then laughed at herself.

"I'm being silly," she told Goldie. "Mommy's being silly. Barry's not the Flash."

"Meerrp." Goldie meowed.
Iris froze. She knew what that mew meant.

"Are you hungry?" she tried

"Meow."

"I'm a turtle."

"Meerrp." Ok, stay calm, Iris. Stay calm.

"Barry's not the Flash."

"Meerrp." Goldie twitched her whiskers in what had to be a cat smile.

"Oh. Oh, God." Iris leaned back in her chair, suddenly wishing she had more coffee. "I'm gonna kill him."

"Meerp."

That's it for this arc, next few entries will be interludes where we get back to the promised cracky adorable chaos. Still, I hope you enjoyed this version of episodes 15-16. Let me know? It would be swell of you :)