(A/N) Some of Cisco's dreams are taken from the show, some from my own fic, and some from other Killervibe fic out there. Thanks to Jaegermighty for letting me use snippets from her stories Some Sad Things That I Know About You and Bisect, and journalistiriswest (Tumblr) / RaiLockhart(AO3) for letting me use a bit from the drabble that became No Man's Land. All of these stories can be found on AO3.
The testers worked their way up from forty-three seconds to a minute to ten minutes, to half an hour. It wasn't an even progression. Sometimes Cisco's tweak made everything slide backwards. None of them made it beyond forty-five minutes before failing in some way or another.
They didn't always explode. Sometimes they fizzled out with a sad sound like a leaking balloon. Sometimes they refused to work at all. Caitlin's notion of the hospital gowns proved sound, and they went through several of them even though she always undid the ties.
The day they tested three models in a row and almost set the cortex on fire, Barry called a halt. "You should go home for the day," he told Cisco.
"It's only four o'clock," Cisco said, turning on a fan. The flames had barely had a chance to get started before Caitlin had swiped her hand over them and sucked them to nothingness, but they'd still smoked, and the air stank of melted plastic and burnt wool.
"In the morning or the afternoon?"
When Cisco paused, Barry pointed at the sunlight pouring in through the skylights. "That's not supposed to be a trick question! You're working flat out on this, both of you, and you need to take a break."
"Fine. I'll go get some dinner or - "
"Nope. You need to go home. You need to shower, you need to sleep, and you need to eat real food, not things mostly made up of grease, sugar, or caffeine."
"Don't be harshing on my main food groups, man." Cisco picked up the paper cup sitting by his computer and sucked the straw. It made a hollow whistling sound. Every drop of liquid in it had been drained long before.
"And Caitlin, you need to do the same. I mean," Barry paused, feeling awkward. "N-not that - "
"Yes, I understood what you meant." Caitlin reached out and picked up the green hoodie, shrugging into it. Barry had noticed that it always seemed to be around now, especially on testing days. It also seemed to have become Caitlin's sole property, even though the cuffs were all stretched out from the way Cisco used to shove them up his arms, and the edges of the pockets were ratty and worn. "And I agree."
"You're on his side now?" Cisco asked her, half joking, half not.
"I'm on my side," she said. "You do whatever you want, Cisco. I couldn't care less. But I'm going back to my cell." She turned on her heel and strode out of the cortex.
Cisco scrubbed his hands over his face. "I'm outnumbered."
He looked exhausted. It was so easy to miss that kind of thing on Cisco's face, which was always moving, always alight with concentration or laughter or his rapid-fire banter. But now, with all of those things wiped away, Barry could see the shadows under his eyes, the lines around his mouth, and the shadows on his jaw and upper lip that meant he'd shaved many, many hours before.
"Fine, okay, I'll go home." Like a lot of people who loved taking care of other people, Cisco got twitchy and grumpy when somebody did it to him.
Barry said, "I'll take you."
Cisco flinched. He got speedsick whenever Barry had to whoosh him places. It had been relegated to strictly an emergency option.
"In your car," Barry said, exasperated. "Where are your keys?"
It was a mark of how tired Cisco was that he just handed them over, without giving Barry one ounce of shit about how his license had expired and it had been a year and a half since he drove anything. While Barry drove, he dozed in the passenger seat, head bouncing slightly against the window.
At a light, he jolted awake with a gasp.
"You okay?" Barry asked him.
"Yeah, just - yeah." He shifted, straightening up. "Hey, we gotta stop for food or something. If your whole mother hen thing is going to be satisfied."
"No grease, sugar, or - "
"I know, I heard you the first time, I just don't have anything in my fridge."
"I'll drop you home and see what Joe's got for leftovers."
Cisco lit up briefly. "Awesome, I haven't had Joe leftovers in, like, forever."
Barry left him at his apartment and parked his car in what he hoped was the correct space, because according to Cisco his neighbors were total jackasses about it if you stole their spot, even by accident. Then he zipped back to Joe's, rooted around in the refrigerator, and zipped back.
Cisco was sitting on his couch, studying a set of graphs on his tablet.
"Cisco," Barry said heavily, feeling like a high school teacher who'd caught a kid reading a comic book in his chemistry text.
"Dude! I just sat down, you know that!"
"So you're just going to get up, and you're just going to eat this delicious - " Barry checked the tupperware. "Chicken and noodle thing, and then you're just gonna shower and go to bed."
Cisco made a face. "Fine, Dad."
Barry went to put the chicken and noodle thing in the microwave, only then seeing the note that said, "For my lunch, Barry, DON'T TOUCH" in Joe's blocky handwriting. He sighed. Oh well. Joe was at least used to Barry eating everything in the refrigerator. Maybe he'd try cooking something tonight to make up for it. Joe had taught him to cook so he was pretty all right at it. Like, he hadn't poisoned anybody yet.
Five minutes on the reheat cycle and a good stir later, Cisco was plowing through the chicken and noodle thing, drinking a big glass of water - "Not soda," Barry had said sternly - and Barry was wandering around, drinking his own glass of water and looking around the kitchen. It looked sad and a little unkempt, like nobody had been using it. Actually, the whole apartment looked that way. A peek into the fridge had revealed absolutely nothing that wouldn't give someone food poisoning, there was a layer of dust thick enough for Barry to write his name on the TV stand, and when he picked up the video-game controller next to the TV, it left a pattern of dust-free circles on the laminate.
"Cisco," he said over his shoulder. "You have been coming back here, right?"
Cisco shrugged, his mouth full.
"I mean, to sleep, at least."
Cisco swallowed. "I haven't been sleeping so well lately," he admitted. "So - I figure if I'm going to not sleep, I might as well not sleep at the lab where I can get some work done."
Barry swallowed too. "It's not - it's not those dreams again, is it? I mean, of Thawne - you know. Because he's gone, Cisco. He's not coming back."
"Tell that to my subconscious," Cisco said, but he shook his head. "I promise, I'm not dreaming about Thawne. I mean, not much. It's just insomnia. Thinking about the implant. It's a puzzle. You know I like puzzles."
Barry had the feeling he shouldn't accept that explanation, but he was also pretty sure Cisco had closed the subject.
Cisco finished the food, scraping the last bits of sauce out of the bottom, and Barry took the tupperware back. "I'll take this back to Joe's and wash it. You hit the showers."
"You mean you're not going to give me a bath?" Cisco blinked. "That came out dirty, sorry."
Barry shook his head. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay? Try and sleep."
He was halfway to Joe's when he thought of something, turned around, and went back to Cisco's apartment for the tablet. Trust Cisco to wait until he was gone to "just do a couple of things" and next thing you knew it was three in the morning and he hadn't slept. Again.
He dropped by Star Labs and left it at Cisco's workstation. About to leave, he paused, turning on the audio feed to the pipeline cell. "Hey, uh, Caitlin? How are you doing?"
"I was sleeping," she growled.
"Right," he said, and left her to it.
Back at Joe's, he did his best to replicate the chicken and noodle thing. Cooking wasn't something you could do at Flash speeds, he'd discovered. Or at least, not all of it.
The front door opened. "Hey, Dad!"
He froze, wondering if maybe he should whoosh away, but there was the saucepan of water heating for the noodles, and the chicken he was defrosting and -
"Oh," said Iris. "Barry."
"Hey," he said, trying not to overanalyze the two words. Was that, "Oh, Barry!" or "Oh. Barry" or "Oh, Barry," or -
She took a step or two into the kitchen, her hands behind her back. Her eyes swept over the counter, then lifted to meet his. "So," she said, a shade too brightly and casually. "Dinner?"
"Um, some of it. I sort of stole Joe's lunch for tomorrow and I'm trying to make more."
"Was it at least worth the crime?"
"I don't know, but Cisco seemed to like it." He felt his shoulders relax. He and Iris hadn't talked like this in months. Not since she'd stormed into Star Labs, confronted him about his mountain of lies, and stormed out again.
She fiddled with her necklace. "How's the implant going?"
He rooted around the pantry for a can of mushroom soup, which was the base for like seventy-five percent of Joe's noodle things so it was a safe bet. "Mmm. Not great. I made them pack it in for today."
"Good," Iris said. "Caitlin's really struggling with how long it's taking."
"How can you tell?"
"How can you not?"
His phone buzzed.
Screw u, Allen!
U wouldn't know I'd taken it if u hadn't looked
I was hurt Gina witch Star Trek
?
Autocorrect?
NETFLIX JERK
Barry snickered a little. He'd never known it was possible to whine over text. 2 bad, watch it on ur giant TV
He turned his phone off, figuring he'd done everything he could short of force-feeding Cisco sleeping pills. Maybe some comfort TV would knock him out. "So," he said to Iris. "You, um, you wanna stay for dinner?"
"Gaaahah, no!" Cisco tossed the controller aside and let his head drop back against her leg.
"Lost again?" Caitlin asked from above him. She'd claimed the comfy cushion, and sat with one leg tucked up under her and the other thrown over his shoulder - a position their friends proclaimed 'disgustingly adorable.'
"No, I beat the whole game. That's what the scream of rage was about."
She snorted and shifted, making the short skirt of her sundress edge up her thigh a little more. Her knee brushed against his hair.
He rolled his eyes up toward her. "How's your book?"
"Very interesting."
"Really," he drawled, cupping his hand around her smooth calf.
"Don't you have a level to beat or something?"
"Gotta give my thumbs a break." He ran his hand down to her foot, cupping the heel for a moment. Her toes wiggled.
"Don't try to distract me," she said sternly. "This is a library book. The loan expires tomorrow."
"What, me?" He turned his head and kissed the silky skin on the inside of her knee. "How could I possibly - " Another kiss, higher up. "Distract you - " Kiss, on the softness of her inner thigh. "From such - " Kiss. "An interesting - "
She leaned over his head and slapped her e-reader down on the coffee table next to the box of the game. Still leaning over, she caught his chin in her hand and kissed him upside down, her hair falling all around them. "You play dirty," she breathed against his mouth.
Cisco jolted awake and lay panting, staring up at the ceiling.
After a few minutes, he rolled over and buried his face in the pillow, giving serious thought to downing one of the sleeping pills that his doctor had prescribed. Except they always made him sludgy the next day, which he hated. But, they kept the dreams away. So . . . fifty fifty, really.
Not like he'd never had a dream about Caitlin that way before. He'd thought she was hot and pretty and had a beautiful smile the first time they'd met, with Hartley sneering at him, and even though she was dating Ronnie and later engaged to Ronnie, his subconscious had whipped up possibilities. Hell, his subconscious had whipped up possibilities with both of them, because Ronnie in addition to being a pretty awesome guy, wasn't hard on the eyes.
But he'd kept those to himself because friendship trumped libido and he knew where he stood in the order of things.
This hadn't been one of those dreams. This had been another Cisco's world, a timeline that had diverted from the one he stood in right now. There was something about his dips into other realities, a warping of the edges and an intensity of color, that made them so clearly not-dreams that he couldn't fool himself.
Somewhere, somewhere in all the possibilities of all the worlds that could be, Caitlin Snow was soft and warm and happy, and making out with him on a ratty couch.
He pulled his phone out and played a mindless matching game until his eyelids drooped. He let the phone rest on his chest and closed his burning eyes. Sleep, he thought. Sleep.
But the dreams - the other realities - kept pulling him in. He slipped and slid between possibilities.
Caitlin walking around the edge of the dance floor in a crowded club, looking wistfully at the dancers.
Caitlin sitting on a couch in a red sundress, her damp hair twisted up in a bun, saying in a tremulous voice, I just didn't want to keep it from you for any longer.
Caitlin cuddling up to Ronnie, alive Ronnie, asking him to tell her about the soccer game on the television.
Caitlin and Felicity giggling together over some girly joke.
Caitlin in leather, climbing on a motorcycle, looking mildly exasperated and completely badass.
Caitlin getting married in a park, her pretty hair spilling over her bared shoulders, holding a bouquet of yellow flowers.
Caitlin crouched over his own still body, performing CPR, panting, Come on, please. Wake up.
Caitlin grousing at Barry in his Flash suit while she plucked what looked like an entire herd of porcupines out of his face and neck.
Caitlin arguing with him as he poured chocolate chips into a saucepan, waving her phone at him.
Caitlin and Iris at a bar, Iris with a tacky plastic tiara that said "BRIDE," Caitlin yelling for more drinks.
Caitlin wrapped around him in a grungy alley, kissing his brains out.
Caitlin happy, Caitlin warm, Caitlin with him.
He sat bolt upright in bed. He rested his forehead on his knees and breathed.
Okay, Caitlin with him, he didn't need that. Really he didn't. (It was . . . nice, though. Just really really . . . nice.)
But Caitlin warm was so hard to see, knowing how cold she always was. That she had to wear a heavy wool coat in the middle of summer, that she jolted away from touching people because just touching someone could kill them. Had killed them.
And seeing her happy, normal, that hurt like something crushing his heart, and he could say that from fucking experience now, okay.
Because those realities weren't this one, and in this one, she was cold and whittled down, all sharp edges like broken ice.
Worst was when the sharp edges slipped aside and occasionally revealed the Caitlin she'd always been. Funny, snarky, a little awkward, just one of his favorite people in the world.
He flopped onto his back again and gave some more thought to a sleeping pill. Just when he'd decided that he couldn't take the dreams again, and climbed out of bed, a thought slammed into him like a hammer.
Had they locked Caitlin's cell?
He wracked his brains, trying to walk backward through the process of shutting things down and leaving. Caitlin had stomped off, he knew that. They usually left her cell unlocked and parked at the mouth of the pipeline when she wasn't in it, so she could go back if she needed to during the day, to warm up until she was safe to be around. At night, he walked her back and locked it behind her. But tonight, he hadn't. Had Barry?
Maybe?
He texted Barry - did u lock C in? - waited. Nothing. Jerk was probably asleep.
Knowing Barry would bitch endlessly if he knew, and not really caring, Cisco drove back to Star Labs, far too fast for a brown guy in the wee hours of the night. It was that after-midnight time when the roads were empty, but so much before dawn that the eastern horizon was still dark. He parked in his usual spot, up near the front doors. From this angle, he could just about see the skylights that covered the cortex. They gleamed very, very faintly blue.
He breathed in, then out.
He got out of his car and pulled a hoodie he'd lined with space-blanket material out of his backseat. It wouldn't cover everything but it would block the warmest parts of his body, and hopefully that would let him sneak up on her.
Because it was her, in the cortex. He knew it.
He knew her, and he knew she'd come for some other reason than just an implant. He'd known it since she'd agreed to his terms in the Palmer Pharamceuticals warehouse.
He padded soundlessly through the dark halls. No need for a light, not here. He could navigate this place blind.
The cortex glowed blue from the light of a single monitor, lighting up Caitlin's face, scowling, intent, as she tapped away at the keyboard.
"Well," he said. "It took you long enough."
Her head shot up. In the blue glow of the monitor, her throat worked.
He walked into the cortex. "What are you really doing at Star Labs, Caitlin?"