(Author's Note: I didn't make you wait two weeks this time! Progress? Hopefully? Well, we won't be getting new episodes of The Flash until April 10th, so maybe I can make these chapters last until then. Enjoy, Jell-O Squares! Tell me all your thoughts. I get so giddy reading about them. Thanks for sticking with me! ~Doverstar)
"You could still work for the CCPD."
"What CCPD?"
"Just because they don't have a standing headquarters right now doesn't mean the city doesn't have officers, Savitar."
"No."
"Or become an engineer somewhere nearby. Wally probably knows a few places."
"No."
"You did build an entire suit of armor. It's something to think about."
"How about a pizza delivery boy?"
Caitlin looked up at Savitar from behind her laptop, one eyebrow arched in the perfect impression of her high school principal. But her principal had always been able to keep a tight, thin mouth. Caitlin was unable to suppress the kind of reluctant smile that made you look like you were rolling a marble around in there.
"Can't you just pretend to care about this?" she huffed. Then she held up a stern finger, pointing it at him. "You can't be unemployed on this Earth forever. Superhero or not, you need a steady income like everyone else."
CCJitters was having a slow day. Only two baristas stood behind the long black counter, one of them dawdling on her phone while the other wiped down the same spot for a full fifteen minutes, staring into space. Though it was frigid outside, the early December sunlight pouring into the café didn't look any less golden, making it seem like a lazy summer afternoon. Apart from Caitlin and Savitar, who were sitting across from one another at a high table in the corner, there were probably three lounging patrons in all.
Caitlin preferred the bustle of an early morning here rather than the stagnant 3 PM they inhabited now. When it was loud and crowded in Jitters, the way it often seemed during the times she'd met Professor Stein here, it was somehow easier to focus. It became like the air conditioning in your house or the ticking of a clock in a classroom—background noise to occupy the back of your mind while you planted yourself deep into your work. But now that it was practically dead in the café, Caitlin had to keep thinking aloud, with the speedster to bounce off of. Otherwise she'd stray from her task.
Not that Savitar was much help. In fact, he seemed bound and determined to pull her mind as far away from finding him a job as he possibly could. Even when he was quiet, he was able to snag her attention. When he wasn't dropping snarky replies to her suggestions, he would sit there, dark hair soft in the dying sunlight, rearranging the little dish of butter packets sitting between them. Or vibrating the last of his coffee at a nearly untraceable pace to warm it up. She could feel, by the slightest of shaking on the tabletop against the underside of her arms, that he was shifting his foot up and down, sometimes at high speed, sometimes at an average one. And, most frustrating of all, more than once Caitlin could feel him watching her.
It wasn't like he'd brought a book to read or a laptop of his own. He didn't even own a smartphone. It was no wonder he preferred racing around the city in his spare time; there wasn't much for him to do. She almost wished he did carry a phone. He could be staring down at it aimlessly like any other millennial instead of at her.
She glanced up at him a few times, trying to hide her irritation. On Earth-1, if Barry Allen was watching someone, his whole posture spoke of it. It was almost as if he were on a television show and a scene had just ended, dramatically zeroing in on his reaction.
Savitar's expression was much the same, apart from a slightly deeper hint in his eyes. Caitlin had to remind herself that this was the man who had turned the heads of generations past into believing he was a god. The man who'd outsmarted Team Flash for months before H.R. had finally defeated him. Of course, he'd have what Barry had—but it was combined, unfortunately, with the calculations of a former Big Bad. It was simultaneously as though he were dissecting her and simply enjoying her company.
Nobody could work when someone else was watching them. For one thing, it felt prickly. For another, it made her seem rude—her friend was sitting in a café with her and she was glued to her laptop. There was such a thing as companionable silence, but that usually happened when both parties had something to take care of, and chose to do so in the same area.
Caitlin definitely had something to take care of. Technically, because it was all about his future, so did Savitar. Yet for some reason, she was the only one taking care of it.
After at least two more minutes, she cracked.
"Savitar," she said slowly, "are you okay?"
"Sure." Sleepy Barry eyes blinked one time too many. He laced his fingers together around his coffee cup. "Why?"
"Because you keep looking at me." Caitlin took out her phone, checking her Messages app. Still nothing. Keeping her eyes on the screen, she added, "And I can't concentrate."
"There's not a lot going on in here, Caitlin."
Caitlin swiped from one contact to the next, using her other hand to stir her tea. "Well, it's very distracting."
The speedster didn't respond to that directly, folding his arms across the table, as though preparing for a little nap—like a drained college student—but kept his head erect. "In the Speed Force," he suddenly began, tone casual, "time is non-linear."
Caitlin glanced away from the screen at last, shoulders straightening with interest.
Savitar licked his lips, encouraged by this, and impulsively reached for one of the napkins in the dispenser. Almost as if he hadn't intended to go on, but then she'd looked up.
"You're not living in it day by day." He took the pen she kept beside her computer, clicking it open and starting a scribble at a speed that should've caused the napkin to rip, but it was smooth as ever when he finished, speaking as he drew. "You're just standing there." His eyes darted up at her, briefly. "Or running there. Time is moving around you—every hour, every minute—it's an infinite loop. Your past, your present. Possible futures—it's all around you. Illusions. Things that won't happen, based on what did happen."
Doctor Snow leaned forward, bending her head low across the table to examine his drawing. He turned it around so that she could see it for what it was, instead of upside-down.
Savitar had drawn a circle, with arrows flicking around and around, lapsing over one another, and a single dot in the center. After staring at it for a while, the arrows seemed to blur together, making it look as if someone had frayed a tiny strand of black licorice and left it all in a shredded pile. Taking up the entirety of the circle, closer and closer to the dot.
"It's a Force—it's energy, and a consciousness, connected to you. Your thoughts. Your memories. Or…" he shrugged. "Whatever speedster's trapped inside."
He paused, judging her reaction as she stared at the napkin.
"When I was in there—after Barry imprisoned me…" Savitar gestured with the pen at his drawing. "At first it was just illusions. I'd wake up somewhere familiar, with someone from my past. Haunting me. Rejecting me. But when you spend an eternity in a place like that—illusions only do the job for so long. So the Speed Force threw time at me. I ran through the past, present, and future. Simultaneously. It was like being trapped in the center of a cyclone. With all the things Barry Allen ever went through rushing past. Everything was going on so quickly around me." He shut his eyes for just a second, as if reliving it, repeating, "In an endless loop."
She narrowed her eyes at the drawing, realizing what the arrows and the dot represented. Savitar…and an eternity of everything whirling by.
Savitar drew a final circle around his illustration. "Having eyes that can see at light speed…you learn to watch it all without moving. I could stand, in the middle of it, and still experience every second of my own personal Hell."
Caitlin blinked hard to free her vision. She tried imagining such a thing—she tried imagining being able to watch her own life, at its worst points—every injury, every insult, every nightmare, every failure, every embarrassment, every loss. Going by in a second, starting and finishing and starting up again, seconds spiraling into minutes, into hours, into days, weeks, months, years, eons. An eternity of her own life, of the tragedies and the mistakes and their consequences. And the occasional illusion added to the heap, like reopening a wound with the extra bite of winter air. Her mind wouldn't make it real. She couldn't picture what he described, but she could feel its results throbbing off of him, even as he sat in a warm, quiet café with a friend across from him.
And for killing Iris—in the previous timeline, of course—for murdering innocents throughout the ages, creating a lie about being the first speedster…hadn't he deserved it? For ripping Team Flash of 2024 apart, for causing so much pain? Had the future, now non-existent Barry Allen known exactly what he was sentencing his time remnant to when he'd tossed him into the Speed Force's prison? If he had, Caitlin couldn't help feeling certain he wouldn't have done it. He'd have found another punishment.
But though she wasn't able to imagine Savitar's agony, she could easily imagine Barry's reaction to losing Iris. After everything they'd done to stop it. If Iris really had been taken from him…Caitlin wasn't sure he wouldn't have done it, knowing what would happen to Savitar or not.
As she glanced at the former God of Speed, she realized he'd gone back to watching her with that baffling mix of nonchalance and intensity.
Finally, he came to the point, arms folded behind his head now. "I guess after that, looking at anything out here in Normal Land is—"
"Peaceful," Caitlin supplied, biting her lip in sympathy for him. "If you can watch your whole timeline go by for that long, it must be like a Hawaiian vacation to see things at average speed. Never mind what something like that could do to your brain's Subcortex."
He spread his palms, using the right one to click the pen shut as he stretched. "It's not like I went crazy or anything."
Caitlin grunted, raising her eyebrows at his joke. "Right."
Savitar returned to his coffee. "Well. Lucky for me, the view here is much better."
She was supposed to be some kind of genius, but it took her longer than it should have to realize he was complimenting her. A brief moment of gaping at him ensued. "Oh." Caitlin cleared her throat, unable to force back a little smile. To make up for it, she wrestled her tone into one of professionalism. "Still. Staring is creepy. And…we have work to do."
She ducked back toward the computer screen, telling herself it was about focusing. Not hiding her face like a blushing teenager might. It had been an awfully long time since anyone had so bluntly praised her looks. But she could still feel him watching. Grappling for something more to do with her hands, she instinctively reached for her phone. The screen was blank. Zero notifications. Caitlin felt her chest tighten a bit. Concentrate on something else.
"As long as you're sure something isn't bothering you," she added to the speedster aloud, keeping her gaze on her phone.
He craned his neck a little, eyebrows lowering, to see what she was staring at. "Something bothering you?"
"What?"
"That's about the thirtieth time you've checked your phone since we left S.T.A.R. Labs." Savitar lifted the cup to his lips, eyes widening innocently. "Expecting a call?"
"A text, actually," Caitlin admitted. "I'm sorry. It's just—I keep hoping…I mean—Cisco was able to send us a fax, send us blueprints for Wally's machine, despite the odd interference with our two dimensions. If he could do that…he's got to be able to figure out how to send a text sometime soon, right?"
Savitar hadn't been smiling a moment ago, but there'd been a kind of light on his face that substituted for one. Now it flickered, dying out altogether. She noticed the table suddenly grew much stiller, as though he'd stopped bouncing his leg underneath its top.
"You're still worried about getting home."
"After how that first test run turned out," Caitlin replied tartly, "I think I could stand to be even more worried." She closed the Messages app, sighing. "I know Wally is doing his best, but…if I can't get back…"
She didn't want to finish the thought. Somehow, she got the feeling that saying it aloud would make it seem too likely. Last night, lying in that big metal cot in her room at S.T.A.R. Labs, she'd been struck with a sudden homesickness for her own apartment. Her own bed, her own coffee table and stupid lamps and shelves full of biology books. Should she have been looking for a permanent residence here, on Earth-66, instead of jobs for the speedster who didn't give a care sitting across from her? Just in case she really was stuck here? Should she be filling out her own applications? The weight of her predicament, the stress, pressed down on her mind every day since the breach machine failed, making her head pound.
On said speedster's face now was a sheet of impatience. Savitar sort of thumbed the tip of his nose, sniffing, an action Barry often carried out after long silences, after he'd had a minute to think. Caitlin had come to realize that it was his way of moving on a decision he'd just made to himself. Savitar's was faster, almost ritual.
"Come on." He stood up.
Caitlin frowned. "Where are we going?"
Savitar gave her a look that said he was sick and tired of questions.
Doctor Snow eyed him, still holding her phone, but the other hand almost subconsciously stretched to grasp his. "Even if we head back, you and I are still going to have to fin—"
In the second she slid her hand into his, Savitar reached over and shut her laptop.
FWOOSH!
Then they were shooting out of the café, out onto the sidewalk, out into the city. Caitlin saw a skyscraper one second, then grass, then a flash of yellowish lightning. It was nothing like the time he'd run her back to the Labs after going out for lunch. She didn't have even half a heartbeat to register more than a blur of an object as they moved.
And they were in the park, Lisa Snart's semi incident long past, where the new fountain had just been installed.
When she tugged her hand free after they finally stopped, Caitlin glanced around, shoving hair from her face. Her eyebrows dipped toward one another in confusion, and a bit of frustration at his impulsiveness.
She opened her mouth (a little reluctantly as the cool air woke her up a bit) to demand answers, whether he was sick of questions or not. But the sight of a small smile on his face told her not to. It wasn't worth the loss.
Fingers teasingly snapped a few inches from her face.
"Hey." Instead, the former God of Speed reprimanded her. "I didn't say let go."
Did he seem smug?
He stole her hand again and Caitlin gasped. Around them, a swath of that same sickly yellow lightning darted and flinched, a kind of hula-hoop of color and energy. And outside that ring, life had completely stopped.
Two children with Nutella snack packs, pausing from a game in the grass, sat with their crackers halfway to their mouths. Stuck in that position. Behind them, a black lab leapt for a bright red Frisbee, both canine and toy suspended in midair. There were several of autumn's straggling leaves trying to tumble to the ground, but Caitlin and Savitar were caught in the moment they'd broken free of their boughs. Even the air seemed frozen.
Caitlin's mind did jumping jacks as she worked to understand. She'd never seen this before. Had Barry? Had every speedster? And how was he sharing this ability with her?
Savitar was blinking placidly at her. He didn't seem at all concerned with the marvel around them; maybe he was used to it.
"What—what are—" Caitlin stammered, beginning to feel a tiny ache in the back of her head.
"This," he explained, at last looking around with her, "is Flashtime. You're moving with me at super speed."
Caitlin, mouth still hanging open, ripped her gaze away from the outside world and back to him. "How?"
Savitar's smile curled a little downward at the edges, making a shrug of an expression. "Best I can tell…I'm expanding the Speed Force. Same thing that protected you from getting whiplash on the way here, the thing that keeps people from getting a little banged up when the Flash takes them with, say…" He squinted upward. "Maybe from a burning building? Only—this kind of lets you stop. Take it all in."
A short huff, like a half laugh, escaped her. Awestruck, she noted the water nearby. It should have been spilling from the fountain, but it was captured, as though she were looking at a very high-definition photograph. "It's incredible."
Savitar didn't agree, though he probably didn't need to. He'd seen this all before. All he seemed to do was watch her.
Caitlin moved toward the fountain, eager to get a closer look.
"Don't—" The speedster kept a tight hold on her hand, squeezing her fingers. She doubled back a few steps, concerned, glancing at him. He explained, rolling his eyes a tad as if to apologize, "If I let go, you're back in normal time."
Caitlin hesitated nervously. The pain in her head was blossoming into a spot the size of her fist. She'd need another aspirin when they got back to S.T.A.R. Labs. And maybe a nap. She'd probably been working too hard, but without Cisco or Joe or even H.R. to tell her to get some rest, how could she make any time for a break?
She could do this, though. She could enjoy this, with Savitar's help, and not waste any time at all.
Caitlin approached the fountain again, the lightning bending to fit the stretch in space, and this time Savitar moved with her, gripping her hand with a little more force than what may have been necessary. As Caitlin got closer, she could spy little droplets the water had released on its way down, like tiny jewels hanging there. The ripples the liquid made in the bottom tier were so smooth, she wanted to reach down and run her hand along one, the way you run your hand along a rail as you take to a set of stairs.
Impressed, she turned back to Savitar with a smile somewhere between teasing and gratitude. There was a hint of curiosity in her voice. "Barry can't do this."
Savitar stepped a little closer, so that they were side by side, chortling. "Not yet."
A spark of delight fireworked through Caitlin at the thought of her Earth-1 companion gaining even more to learn. More to help people with. New abilities, new scientific strides. "Exactly how far into the future does he—ah!"
Caitlin broke off, wincing, as an intense heat overwhelmed her. The ache in her head spread until it engulfed her skull, and she got the feeling no amount of aspirin would be calming it down. Her legs felt like gelatin, as if she'd been sitting down too long and all the blood in them was stirring awake as she stood. She could feel weakness and pain even in her teeth.
"Okay—" Savitar caught her as she stumbled. "It's time to let go."
Caitlin felt her heart rate slowing. Of course. Her body couldn't handle moving this quickly for this long. Savitar was connected to the Speed Force; he could move at any speed he liked and the toll it would take on his physical health would set in much later than it would for her. Caitlin was a metahuman, but not that much of a metahuman. She was deteriorating. She should've been expecting these sorts of ramifications from the beginning. Was she losing her touch?
Stifling a cry as she lost feeling in her arms, she managed a nod.
With a kind of rush, like an audience just bursting into a standing ovation, the lightning around them disappeared. The world exploded back into movement and noise. The Frisbee smacked into the dog's mouth. A Nutella-coated cracker was finally bitten into. Leaf after leaf reached its destination. And the water in the fountain was running smoothly, as though Caitlin had just daydreamed the stagnant version.
Savitar had one hand on her shoulder now, holding her steady as she regained strength. "Don't move," he ordered, tone firm. "Give it a minute."
Caitlin sucked in breath after breath of real, influenced oxygen. Fresh air. She tried not to make a scene, tried to compose herself, but he was right—it was going to take a minute or so to come away from the Speed Force's effects. One or two people caught sight of them, with a flick of the eyes that showed they were concerned, but not so concerned that they would brave the awkwardness of introductions to come and check that everything was okay. That the strange lady and her black-clad companion weren't having some kind of attack.
After several more seconds and a few steps in any random direction to test her muscle work, Caitlin glanced at Savitar. "How did you…just turn it off like that?"
Savitar cocked his head, spreading his left palm. "Practice."
"But—" Caitlin lifted her left hand, showing it to him. "You still haven't let go."
His hand remained tightly woven with hers.
"I don't understand," she went on, distractedly watching the lab rush the Frisbee back to its owner. Only a moment ago it had been trapped in the middle of a huge spring. "You can only share your speed when you touch someone, when you link them to the Speed Force's energy. Shouldn't that connection still be there if you keep holding on?"
Savitar's face did not change. "You think I haven't figured out how to shut it down whether I'm touching someone or not?" He pulled their arms back down, out of view. "Barry might take a little longer to learn all this, but…" Savitar shook their hands a little, swinging his arm back and forth almost restlessly. "I've already been there."
Caitlin felt a grin pushing its way through. "That sounds a little close to bragging, don't you think?"
Savitar pulled his mouth down, nodding a bit. "Probably."
"Thank you," she said quickly. "For showing me. Even if my head still feels like it's under a sledgehammer." Caitlin watched the two Nutella kids scramble from their spots in the grass, going back to a game of tag and leaving their food on the ground. She smiled at Savitar. "I guess I needed to get away for a second."
Savitar, watching her smile grow, was quiet for a moment before responding. His eyes looked a little wider, a touch more awake than usual, and he seemed so much taller than she was whenever they stood this close. Julian had been a bit shorter than
eye-level for her, and of course Ronnie had had a couple of inches to lord over his fiancee. Barry was seven inches taller, and Savitar was the time remnant of an older version of the Flash—which meant he was a whole foot higher than Caitlin, and instead of being intimidated, she found it endearing. Almost comforting.
"Caitlin," he said quietly, and she noticed he'd taken a barely-traceable breath inward before he spoke, "your Earth…" He stopped, and Caitlin felt her smile fall, concern for him creeping in. He seemed to be having a hard time thinking of what to say. Savitar had always been full of Barry's quick wit, ready with something sarcastic or dry to say. Something was bothering him. "If it doesn't work…"
Caitlin's frown deepened. "What do you mean?"
Savitar licked his lips. "If you're just here. If you have to stay, if…Barry can't get you out. If Wally's machine never—"
"Don't say that." Caitlin shook her head, trying to ignore a familiar sense of panic weaving its way back into her lungs. "It has to."
"No—no, listen." Savitar shut his eyes for a second, as if her interruption made it harder for him to communicate. He exhaled, frustrated. "It's different now. Okay? I want—"
In her pocket, Caitlin's cell phone burst into song. Summer Lovin', her preferred ringtone, tinnily rang through the clearing. Jumping, startled, Caitlin used her free hand to fish it out.
She looked beseechingly at her friend. "It's Professor Stein."
"Great." Savitar looked very much as though he wanted to roll his eyes, speaking under his breath. Caitlin answered the call.
"Caitlin!" came the frantic voice on the other end.
Caitlin glowered at the phone, confused. Stein almost never called her by her first name. Neither Stein. "Professor? Are you okay?"
"I might ask you the same question," Stein replied, sounding out of breath. "Are you—aware of the time, by any chance?"
Caitlin pulled the cell away from her ear, glancing at its clock. "It's 5:30, Professor, but—wait, where are you?" His voice, she could hear, seemed to echo a bit in the background.
"I am at S.T.A.R. Labs. Our chosen rendezvous point for today's procedure, or so I thought." Testily, she heard Stein exhale. "And yet, I can find no trace of either you nor your superhuman companion in the building. Would you care to tell me why that is?"
Caitlin actually flinched. She made a stricken face at Savitar, who now seemed doubly annoyed by hearing only one end of a conversation and having been interrupted. "Professor Stein, I am so sorry. I promise, I'll be right there."
"I should hope so."
Caitlin severed the call, stuffing her phone back into her pocket. "Today's the day we were supposed to try actually administering his wife's cure to her," she explained impatiently to Savitar. "I guess—with—Wally, and Linda yesterday, I got so caught up—I completely forgot, and now—" She winced, another twinge of pain flashing across her forehead.
Savitar sighed heavily, beginning to move out of the square. "Come on. We'll head back."
"We have to stop at Jitters—"
"Caitlin," Savitar reminded her, discreetly holding up a hand and vibrating it. Time would not be an issue.
"Oh. Right." Caitlin shook her head, mentally kicking herself.
They began walking, and after a few minutes of moving through the trees, Caitlin stopped, forcing Savitar to halt with her.
"What is it?" Savitar turned around, mouth tight. Clearly he didn't relish moving at a regular pace, and slowing him down further wasn't exactly giving her brownie points.
"Well," Caitlin began, a little awkwardly, "first of all—shouldn't we be…" She glanced about, making sure no one was listening, lowering her voice. "Flashing there right now?"
Savitar blinked slowly, like a cat. "That would mean connecting you to the Speed Force again. Your body needs more of a break." He raised his eyebrows. "Unless you want to be ripped apart? Atom by atom?"
Caitlin lowered her eyelids at him. "No, thank you."
"Okay. A walk back to Jitters should be long enough." Turning, the speedster glanced cheekily over his shoulder. "Like normal people."
He tried to begin walking again, but she still didn't budge.
"Secondly…" Caitlin added, a little smile threatening to twitch its way out. She held up her left hand again. "I think I'll be okay now. You can let go."
Savitar's mismatched gaze flicked from her hand in his and then back to her, unbothered. He went to face her fully again. "Who says this is for you?"
She let him lead her onward, tightening her own grip. She was reminded of the day Zoom had set her free, the day she'd been allowed to return to Team Flash after having been kidnapped and dehydrated as well as malnourished. She'd needed help standing, and of course, Barry Allen had been right there as her walking stick, one hand on her shoulder and the other holding fast to her free palm as he debriefed her on what she'd missed. Savitar's hand was stronger, with zero delicacy about the way he held her, full of confidence.
Not as if she might break, but as if she were fun to lift.
The facility Clarissa Stein had been checked into ever since her accident had name Caitlin knew.
"The Ray Palmer Hospital," she read aloud as she and a very nervous Professor Stein entered the building.
"Yes." Stein switched the briefcase holding their antidote to his other hand, heading straight for the concierge. "Named for its founder, the late Raymond Palmer. He was an astounding figure in medical advancements in the early 80's." He lowered his voice. "Am I to assume that your Earth has no such person?"
"Oh—" She cleared her throat. "No, we do have a Ray Palmer." Caitlin smiled. "He just decided on a bit of a…different line of work." If you could call traversing time itself with a gaggle of unlikely do-gooders a line of work, anyway.
"Unfortunately," Stein went on, tucking his free hand behind his back, "even such an esteemed mind as our Mister Palmer had not gleaned a cure for stage four lung carcinoma."
Caitlin's eyes lingered on the sign at the welcome desk, on Ray's name. Picturing the dorky smile and the dark, perfectly-combed hair. So the Atom of this Earth had not only been born earlier, but had also died earlier. Of lung cancer. She wondered, briefly, as Stein approached the man behind the counter, what Earth-1's Ray would think of his counterpart's life. If he would consider it as short as she did. At least Earth-66's Palmer had made it count, she conceded, glancing around at the bustling, bright main floor. Hospitals frightened most people—but Caitlin had always sort of felt at home in these places. Each one was stuffed with hearts that wanted to help.
The concierge, a middle-aged man with a shock of red hair, beamed at them as they reached him. "Mister Stein! It's been a day or two, hasn't it? Always nice to see you here!"
Stein's voice was tight; Caitlin guessed he must have spoken to this man a little too often before being allowed to see his wife. "Yes, hello again, Carlton. As I'm sure you've already heard, I am here for a frankly salient meeting with Doctor Sullivan."
"Doctor Sullivan?" Carlton glanced at the screen of the nearest computer, tapping and swiping with a finger a few times. Caitlin watched his eyebrows draw closer and closer together, watched confusion strain the corners of his mouth. "I'm sorry, but there's no record of—"
"It should be scheduled for promptly 6 PM." Stein's knuckles tightened on the handle of his briefcase. "He knew I was coming."
After a moment more, Carlton shook his head. "It says here Doctor Sullivan is at a conference in Michigan for the weekend. Are you sure you agreed it was this Saturday?"
Stein's lower jaw jutted out a bit, and Caitlin saw his brown eyes darken. "I may be old, Carlton, but I think the myriad of scientific awards and PhDs hanging in the office of my hugely-successful company"—Carlton was now leaning just hairs backward with every syllable—"can attest to my having not gone senile just yet."
Caitlin tried to look anywhere but directly at the two gentlemen, prickly at the barely-disguised storm that was obviously brewing in a genius who had already been on edge today. There was a reason Martin Stein was one half of an unstoppable superhero on her Earth, and it wasn't just his intellect.
Carlton took a moment to collect himself. "Look, I'm—I really am sorry, Mister Stein, but Doctor Sullivan is not here. I literally have no—"
"What in heaven's name is it with your generation and this constant misuse of the word literally?" Stein practically hissed. He slung the briefcase down on the desk. Normally, Caitlin would have been worried about its contents after it hit the counter with such velocity, but she knew for a fact that it was heavily reinforced, despite its mediocre outward appearance. "Never mind Sullivan. I've had enough conversations with him and his regular staff to be confident in his support of what I intend to do here today. Regardless of his absence, I need to see my wife right away."
Carlton eyed the briefcase. Slowly, his startled blue irises drifted back up to Stein. "What's in that?"
"Possibly my greatest achievement," replied Stein impatiently. "And, in an hour's time, it should be seen as Clarissa's saving grace. Now, if you don't mind, I require a key card for her ward. Immediately."
"Mister Stein," began Carlton, visibly sweating, "you and I both know you can't just administer an unknown substance to—"
"You and I, Carlton?" scoffed Stein. "Which one of us is currently teaching two different classes on physical science?"
Poor Carlton gaped, struggling for something with which to combat that, and suddenly his gaze landed on Caitlin. "Who's this?" he demanded, clearly trying out a more welcoming tone.
Caitlin's lips parted to introduce herself, but Stein was too quick, stretching an arm out to stop her stepping forward.
"This is Miss Nadezhda Ivanov, my associate," Martin informed the concierge smoothly. "Ivanov is an esteemed figurehead of medical science in her country and has traveled here by plane from Saint Petersburg. She's spent the past four months in my company, perfecting the substance contained in this briefcase to achieve what your top minds haven't even come close to: curing Clarissa." He turned the briefcase around, opening it, giving Carlton just a glimpse of the phial tucked safely inside. "Thousands of resources have gone into this project, Carlton, I daresay millions."
Carlton was still watching Caitlin. "Is this true?"
Caitlin wanted to sink into the floor. She knew French, Latin, and even a little Spanish (thanks to working with Cisco for so long). But she'd never really learned much Russian. And she doubted Stein had brought any sort of certificate showing the hospital staff that she came from Saint Petersburg. How did he intend to prove this?
Before she could respond, Stein fixed Carlton with such a sharp look of retribution, Caitlin thought she could feel its heat from where she stood. "You expect her to waste time with a simple, outdated language like ours when she's spent her life serving only those most in need within her own country? Are you implying that one should endeavor to learn the English language just because it makes your life easier?"
Carlton flushed. "Oh—I—she can't speak English?"
"Nyet," Caitlin said quickly, an absurd flash of pride overtaking her as she remembered at least one Russian word.
"No, and apparently," Stein pulled the briefcase off the desk, drawing himself up to his full height, "neither can you. As I said, the two of us will be visiting Clarissa's ward this evening, with or without your approval, I'm afraid. Unless you'd prefer she take it up with your current, shall we say, manager-on-duty? Or perhaps, even, Sullivan himself. I'm sure the good Doctor would enjoy a phone call interrupting his very important conference in order to sort out this little tiff." Stein held up his cell phone. "I do have him on speed dial."
Carlton's blue eyes said he was pretty sure they weren't telling him the whole truth. But, fancy hospital worker or no, like many other employees, he seemed to prefer spending as little time as possible serving a pair of difficult customers. And, Caitlin had to admit, having someone like Stein in your face with such a detailed excuse was hard to bear on a busy day in an establishment like this. If anything really went wrong, explaining it all to his superiors would definitely glean some sympathy. Even if he had breached protocol.
Within the next few minutes, mouth tightly shut, Carlton had secured for them a key card to Clarissa's ward.
Stein shot the man a very stiff smile. "Thank you."
Walking quicker than she had ever seen him do on this Earth, Stein led Caitlin to the nearest elevator, briefcase in tow.
Clarissa Stein of Earth-66 was completely gray.
Caitlin wasn't sure Mrs. Stein could look any more lifeless, lying there in her hospital bed, until she realized that this dimension's version had already lost all the blonde left to her. Her eyes seemed more sunken in, too, and her skin was like tissue paper. They watched her chest shakily rise, as if it were a pool float a child was trying to inflate, and it seemed to take hours for it to finally fall back down again. Then she started over.
However limp and aching Clarissa seemed, when Caitlin glanced to the right, Martin Stein's expression told her there was no one in the multiverse he found more captivating.
Caitlin glanced at the screen on Clarissa's ventilator. Every level it showed was in a constant state of flux. "This is…" She twirled a hand a few times, halfheartedly, at her side, glancing at Stein. "A miracle."
Stein didn't respond, eyes still fixed on his wife. He had set the briefcase down in a nearby chair—a chair that already had one of his tweed jackets hanging over it, probably from a previous visit—and was standing near enough to the cot to take her hand.
"She shouldn't even be alive," Caitlin went on, letting her mouth work while her brain processed the data the ventilator displayed. "The amount of Nimbus' gas in her system—her lungs should be all but obsolete."
"Yes, well, believe me, if it were as simple as stuffing a tube down her throat and vacuuming out the substance…" Stein's voice was quiet and dry and full of bitterness toward what his partner was suffering. "You and I wouldn't be standing here now."
Caitlin took another look at the woman in the bed, listening to the awful rattling sound Mrs. Stein made as she struggled to gain even a fraction of the oxygen healthy human beings took in each time they inhaled. "Professor Stein," she began, nearly whispering. "If this doesn't work…"
Stein looked up at her then. He had never seemed older or more tired than in that moment when their eyes locked. Though he held Clarissa's hand, which should have made him steady, Caitlin could actually see him shaking. Just a bit. "Then I will have nothing left to lose, Doctor Snow," he concluded evenly. "And perhaps I can finally admit defeat." His grip on his wife tightened all the more. "Allow her some peace."
Caitlin went around the bed and opened the briefcase, preparing the syringe. "Four years ago on my Earth," she began, eyes on the tool, "I lost my fiancé. I still think about him—every day when I wake up. Every night when I go to bed. When I eat pizza," she added quickly, with a half laugh. She mustn't forget to mention pizza.
The left-hand corner of Stein's mouth quirked, as though he wanted to smile.
Relieved that he wasn't interrupting her, or offended that she was taking this moment to talk about herself while they stood in his dying wife's hospital room, Caitlin continued. Picturing those moments that still held Ronnie, even after so long.
"When I hear his favorite song, or pass his picture in the hall. Or…when I'm in a room full of people, but I still feel lonely because everyone else has someone they look for in that room first. And I can't look for him anymore." She swallowed, staring unwaveringly at her friend, moved to see recognition in his expression. He'd already felt some of these things himself. "It's been four years, and I miss him, but life hasn't stopped, Professor. Good things happened. Even without Ronnie. I laughed again. I still had friends to get out of bed for, a reason to keep going."
Stein's gaze drifted back to Clarissa, ignoring the rattling sound, ignoring the ventilator casting its shadow over her bed. Slowly, subtly, he was nodding as Caitlin spoke.
"Even if this doesn't work," Caitlin went on, trying to keep her voice steady, and Stein's posture became rigid at the thought, "if you have to say goodbye—there are always other things to care about. Other people to live for."
"I suppose," Stein broke in thickly, "the way you put it, Doctor Snow…to do anything less would be rather self-serving, in a way." He ran his thumb along Clarissa's limp, weathered hand.
Caitlin tilted her head. "I'm not saying you can't be sad, but—believe me, if there's anything I've learned over the years, it's that there is a difference between grieving and giving up."
For a few minutes, neither of them said anything more. Stein continued to hold his wife, and Caitlin filled the syringe with their antidote. The gas cure they'd created was now a cloudy white; Caitlin could only tell she'd acquired it properly by holding it up to a light and noting the slight difference in color.
Stein straightened suddenly, with his mouth drawn in that determined line she'd seen it pulled into when he'd confronted Kyle Nimbus. "No point in any further delays," he decided aloud. "I've waited three years for this very moment. Putting it off a second longer would be cowardice."
Caitlin went to the other side of the bed, standing across from the professor. She knew where she had to inject the antidote—near the chest area, where it would enter the lungs and, if Savitar had been right, counteract Nimbus' gas. For a moment, she imagined the hard, black stone that might drop in her own mind if Clarissa truly wasn't saved. If they couldn't fix this. You're a doctor, she reminded herself, watching Stein tear his gaze from his wife and up to Caitlin herself. She's your patient. You can do this. And she wished Cisco were in the building somewhere, the way he always was back home, ready to monitor vitals or congratulate her when she was finished. Ready to put an arm around her and squeeze her shoulder, strong and just there whenever she needed him. Or Barry with his hands laced behind his head, pacing with concern. With his huge heart and his willingness to help, even if, as the Flash and not a doctor himself, there was little he could actually do. Or even Dr. Wells, the Wells she'd trusted first, the motor of his wheelchair comforting in the background as she worked with his watchful eyes trained on her, confident in her skill.
Instead she had Martin of Earth-66, who seemed no less confident in her, no less willing to help, and yet completely, painfully hinged on whether she won or lost this fight. But when their eyes met, his held a quiet, kind trust that only came with having seen a few things at his age. Having failed many times too. Knowing she had done her best to give him hope.
Stein nodded, once. "Do it, Caitlin."
With a careful, fluid movement, Caitlin injected the antidote.
For a full two minutes, there did not appear to be any change. At first, Caitlin comforted herself with the reminder that no change was better than, say, the condition going from bad to worse. But as the seconds ticked by and she removed the needle, closing up the injection point with quick, professional fingers, she felt everything inside her start to tremble. Caitlin had lost quite a few fights, yes, but she knew that if this didn't work, it would haunt her in a way that nothing else yet had. That whatever Stein's reaction would be should she fail, it would burn itself into her memory. There would be no getting rid of it.
Then the woman in the bed gasped.
"Clarissa!" Stein said it as though it were the only word he knew. As though anything he ever wanted to communicate could be carried by her name alone.
Neither of them could tell right in that moment if this was a good sign, and Stein gripped her like he was hanging over a chasm of some kind, and she was his only lifeline.
Clarissa did not buck or writhe or even wince.
Caitlin flew to the ventilator, checking the monitor. The levels were, at a snail's pace, slowly becoming consistent. She glanced over her shoulder and saw, as Stein was seeing, Clarissa's chest rise and fall, rise and fall. Rhythmically. Steadily. The way it was supposed to.
A few coughs spluttered out from between dry, out-of-use lips, but Mrs. Stein didn't seem disturbed any longer. The rattling continued when she breathed, and Caitlin watched the clock. One minute. Three minutes. Five minutes. Gradually, the rattling went away.
Clarissa didn't open her eyes, or gasp again, but her face seemed clearer. More relaxed. At peace.
"It worked," Stein breathed. He laughed. It was a laugh Caitlin had never heard come out of him, not on Earth-1, not here. Ever. It was a young man's laugh, full of wonder and joy. Caitlin saw him blink one time too many; she thought she might be close to tears of her own, watching him. "It worked!"
Caitlin let out a tiny chortle, thinking her chest felt a little lighter, too.
Then Clarissa's hand twitched in her husband's, and Caitlin's eyes, for some reason, fixed themselves on those two hands and the wedding bands—both simple and silver—that brushed against one another every few heartbeats.
She wondered, briefly, what Ronnie's hands would have looked like at that age. She tried to picture it, but all she could recall were the hands he'd had when she last saw him, before the Singularity—firm, young, holding her as comfortably as ever. And then, barely twenty minutes later, the sensation of being held by those particular hands was gone forever.
In the next breath, as Clarissa's gasp died out, in the time it took to blink, Caitlin—for reasons she couldn't have explained to you—flashed back to that afternoon in the park. When Savitar had outright decided that he wasn't going to let go of her hand, even as she walked, healthy as ever and perfectly capable of moving on her own, all the way back to Jitters.
Was that what it was like? she wondered. Was that what Martin and Clarissa had been, before Nimbus had pulled the energy and most of the life from the poor woman's body? Had Stein held on just as tightly as he was doing now for all the years he'd had her, just as tightly as Ronnie once held onto his high-strung bioengineer? As tightly, Caitlin realized, as Savitar had held onto her hours ago? Even when there was no reason to do it?
Just because he would rather walk holding her hand than walk on his own.
(Author's Note: Ahh, Old Man Science. I miss him, guys. Both on Legends of Tomorrow and The Flash. Let me know your thoughts, Jell-O Squares! You are all super great. ~Doverstar)