(Author's Note: If you are reading this fanfic, I want you to leave a review on every chapter with any of your thoughts! Even if it's just one sentence, please. If you have the time. I say this because when you Follow or Favorite the story, that's great, but that doesn't make me feel like you're reading it. Only when I hear your thoughts and reactions do I feel like someone is paying attention and wants me to keep going. Does that make sense? I think that goes for all fic writers.

Been really discouraged about my writing lately. You guys help a lot when you talk to me. So please, don't hold back! Tell me what you think. It's one of the only reasons I keep writing stuff like this. Thanks, Jell-O Squares! ~Doverstar)

"Sometimes, you just have to slow down to get back to where you want to be."

The lights had been low in the Cortex. He'd just come off the treadmill. Caitlin was missing, Grodd had come back. Barry had been wearing a S.T.A.R. Labs tee, looking into his father's eyes. Listening as Henry Allen talked about large-mouth bass and what it took to come to terms with his own freedom.

Cisco had come in and interrupted, but that somber expression on Dad's face, the one that told of how hard life had been—the one that said he was going to keep living anyway—had locked itself into Barry's memory.

And if it was in Barry's head, it was in Savitar's head.

He'd been remembering that moment, that night, a lot lately. Maybe because when he looked in the mirror in the basement of S.T.A.R. Labs, or at his reflection in the windows at Jitters, or a stray puddle as he was speeding through downtown...

Savitar's face looked exactly as Henry's had.

He raced into the run-down, charred S.T.A.R. Labs of Earth-66. All the tech was in perfect working condition, now, but the place still smelled like sweat and acid in most areas. The Cortex was the only "safe haven" from the stench, according to the people who didn't live there. Savitar's teammates often told him he didn't notice it because he was used to it. He usually argued that it was because he didn't care. Really, it was probably a little of both.

FWOOSH!

He arrived in the Cortex, shoving his suit's charcoal-black hood off. A textbook, The Study of Human Anatomy flew off of a nearby stool and hit the floor up-side down. One or two Big Belly Burger bags followed, kicked up in the wake of the speedster's entrance.

Professor Stein, turning away from the newscast on the wall monitors, adjusted his spectacles and smiled. "Another day, another potentially devastating loss of life avoided. We seem to have developed a pattern, wouldn't you say?"

Savitar ignored him, heading for the mini-fridge on the dais. The floor squelched as he walked.

Eddie had been at the Labs for an hour at this point, out of uniform in the chair behind the white winding desk. A month or two ago, the detective had purchased a duplicate of the seat he used at the police station and brought it here—something about it being "better for your core". He was glued to the computer screen, clicking through bird's-eye views of downtown. All the while, Sandra Peterson reported from the wall monitors.

"If you're just joining us, we are live downtown, where a new metahuman attack has left the upper half of the city underwater. Eyewitnesses confirm that the hero of the day was, as usual, the mysterious individual police have nicknamed 'The Shadow'. As a tidal wave from seemingly nowhere threatened to engulf the city, countless pedestrians and business owners feared for their lives. Luckily, the Shadow has struck again, getting everyone to safety and detaining the enemy. The whereabouts of the assailant remain unknown, though CCPD's recently-reinstated Detective Joe West assures us that the Shadow has, quote, 'taken care' of the matter. This is Sandra Peterson, Central City News."

Savitar had deposited the new water-pumping meta in the Pipeline, along with any other enemies his team had made over the past while. Then he'd darted back out into the wreckage, adrenaline still screaming for more running, more action.

"Savitar." Stein narrowed his eyes, looking the gruff hero up and down. "You're soaked."

Thawne glanced at the professor, eyebrows knit in confusion. "Well…yeah, he's soaked. He's been double-checking the harbor district for the last—" he checked his wristwatch. "—45 minutes now. Any stragglers?" he added over his shoulder.

"Wouldn't I have called if there were?" Savitar grunted, dropping an empty Jell-O cup to the ground on his way toward the exit.

"Firstly," Stein said, clearing his throat, "The exact velocity at which you were moving should have rendered you dry by the time you reached S.T.A.R. Labs. Yet you're completely drenched."

"I took the scenic route," Savitar explained impatiently, still headed for the hall.

"And secondly," Stein added, louder, sterner, "I believe someone of your age should know better than to litter in your own base of operations." He looked pointedly at the Jell-O carton.

Savitar stopped, turned to face the older gentleman, and deliberately dropped his Jell-O Spoon. He had zoomed out of the room before it hit the ground.

"Someone's having a bad day," Eddie commented, mirroring Stein's frown.

"Indeed." Professor Stein bent to pick up the trash their leader had left behind. "A bad few months, if you ask me."

"He didn't even steal my coffee." Thawne took a sip of said dark roast and winced. It was cold. That would teach him to take too long changing out of his wet clothes. "Whatever funk he's in, it's getting worse. …You ever think there's something he's not telling us, Stein?"

Stein straightened, raising his eyebrows at Eddie. You could normally count on the wizened scientist to be polite, even painstakingly gracious, to the younger men on his team. He seemed to think of himself as the strongest mind behind their success; the voice of reason and wisdom in the tightest spots. Always patient, always ready to help, relishing the chance to save the city with this misfit bag of masculinity.

But even he failed to hide his contempt when asked a stupid question.

"Something he isn't telling us?" Stein repeated. "Well, yes, I think there is something. Several somethings. Several hundred somethings, undoubtedly." He dropped the garbage into the metal wastebasket beneath the desk, exhaling a little too loudly through his nose. "Savitar is a walking metaphysical anomaly, Detective. He has traveled across time, cataloged the multiverse, and his point of origin is essentially a paradox."

Eddie put up his hands, grinning. "Okay, okay—"

"It's a wonder the man has a belly button."

"I get it. Thanks." The blonde officer leaned back in his seat, thumbing the lid of his coffee cup. "So you're saying he's got a lot to think about?"

"A lot!" Stein scoffed, almost to himself. "He has eons of imprisonment in his so-called 'Speed Force' to recall. He used to collect acolytes from across the ages, for heaven's sake. The things he's seen—" He spluttered, gesturing vaguely with a hand. "I would assume he has a lot to think about, and therefore a lot to keep in."

"I don't mean…all the 'God of Speed' stuff." Eddie shook his head, staring at the far wall. Thinking in that way Stein sometimes forgot to do—focusing primarily of emotions, instead of scientific fact. "Or the whole—you know—copy-of-a-guy-from-another-Earth…type…thing. I'm saying I think he's having a hard time. Coping."

"Ah." Stein's expression cleared, all traces of scorn erased. Replaced with a grandfatherly concern as he realized what Eddie was getting at. "Yes. Yes, I think you may be right."

"Right about what?"

Wally West strolled into the Cortex. The whole drowning-city incident had kept him on lockdown at Mercury Labs; he worked there part-time, training to be a medical assistant. Eddie offered him the leftover muffin in his Jitters bag, and the medical intern took a huge bite, bouncing his eyebrows. It was his way of saying thank you. His sneakers were covered in mud, and Stein eyed the trail of messy footprints leading backward into the hall.

"We were talking about Savitar," explained Eddie curtly.

"About how he's bummed out 95% of the time?"

The two older men exchanged a glance, Eddie nodding slightly. If anyone was most in tune with Savitar, it was Wally. The 20-something engineer hadn't stopped idolizing their brooding leader since the two had met. Wally was learning to read Savitar, just a little, just the outermost shell. And lately, he didn't like what he was picking up.

"Where'd he go?" he asked.

"Where else?" Stein muttered. "To his ivory tower, as usual."

Without another word, Wally turned on his heel, shoulders hunched, and headed for the elevator.

"Energy readings at 88.5 percent capacity, Savitar. Zero metagenes detected within a 30-mile radius."

"Repeat scan, Gideon."

Savitar didn't look up, deadpan, listening to the beeping and whirring as Gideon obeyed. She was testing her new metahuman alert system. The former speed god was crouched on the floor near Gideon's holo-head, tightening the screws on her console. He had changed into civilian clothes; the same old dark jacket, shirt, and jeans, and was narrowing his eyes as he worked.

This was the area of S.T.A.R. Labs that was, on Earth-1, referred to as the Lounge. Or it would be referred to as the Lounge. Barry Allen's Team Flash hadn't quite gotten that far yet. Coming from the year 2024 did have its advantages. He'd known this room was up here from the moment his feet had connected with Earth-66 soil.

After Infantino Street, after the defeat of the Rag Doll, Savitar had spent the first 3 months renovating this Earth's version of the Lounge to suit his purposes. He needed his own workspace, a lab, somewhere he could invent and check up on the city on his own. He'd once constructed his own metal suit, as well as a handheld breach inhibitor. He needed room to tinker. Room to think.

The walls were patterned, rough, and white, the same way they were in the Time Vault on Earth-1. The floor was scuffed and dusted, and the lights were dim. Gideon's massive projection screen could span every wall; there wasn't much need for extra, artificial lighting. In a corner, a tall, metal table sat with one stool beside it. It was cluttered with tools and gadgets, some futuristic, others archaic. There was hardly a splash of color in the room, apart from Gideon's slightly-blue sheen.

The last 4 months, when he hadn't been saving the world (or downtown), Savitar had created Gideon from memory. Well—Barry's memory. The AI had a few new tweaks; she couldn't be all Barry's. Savitar's Gideon was faster, less cheerful, and had a self-destruct sequence. She only responded to his voice, and was able to access any form of weaponry installed on the outside of the building.

Of course, he had yet to actually add weapons to the Labs. That would be his next project.

And he needed a steady stream of projects.

Caitlin's words from her earlier call stepped slowly and tentatively through his mind. Like a toddler sneaking downstairs after bedtime, or a cat stalking an especially nervous bird. As though the memory, the idea, the fact that was Caitlin Snow knew it made him tense, knew it might not be the most welcome thing, and it still crept into view. Refused to be put aside.

"You haven't…felt anything different, have you? When you use your speed?"

"Savitar?

"What do you mean?"

The tremor in her voice. The way it pitched against odd words, the way she paused when she was nervous. Her eyebrows must have been drawn and down the entire time she'd been talking.

Water and panic had been raging around him, and when she'd called, he could have abandoned all of it. It had been weeks since he'd heard her voice in real time. Hearing it again made him restless, even in the middle of a not-so-natural disaster downtown.

Speaking of "in real time".

"Gideon." Savitar's voice was low, more so than was necessary when he was on his own.

"Yes, Savitar?" The beeping and whirring came to a quiet halt.

"Stop scanning."

"Pausing metahuman scan. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Recall past security footage."

"The Cortex, Savitar?"

Gideon was learning. She retained memory now; she even had almost a knowing lilt to her vocal patterns. Savitar tilted his head at the holographic face, as if he were telling her with his eyes to tread carefully. But this was one teammate he knew he didn't have to worry about judging him. Especially not when it came to this.

"The Cortex. Late October." Every word thudded from his mouth. His grip on the screwdriver tightened. "Evening."

"Would you like me to play the footage on a loop?"

The air hissed out of him. He rubbed his one good eye, not sure why he felt so antsy all of a sudden. It wasn't as though anyone were watching him. It wasn't as though he had to feel guilty, or rushed.

"Yes."

In a heartbeat, the walls sprang to life. They depicted a panorama of the Cortex 7 months ago, when the place was still a little dusty. A candle flickered on the white winding desk, and Windex sat on one of the chairs beside a roll of paper towels. Two of the computers weren't operational. The Central City News played on one of the wall monitors, just as it had today, but the Cortex's sole occupant in the footage wasn't watching.

Caitlin was in the corner of the screen, at her work table on the dais, working on the old cure for Clarissa Stein. Goggles were strapped around her head, her lab coat spotless with the sleeves rolled up. She had her back to the cameras.

"Gideon, rotate and zoom in."

"Yes, Savitar."

Savitar had seen this piece of the past, and recordings like it, at least a dozen times since Caitlin had gone back home to her Earth. At first, it was a test, making sure Gideon had access to every piece of equipment in S.T.A.R. Labs. That included security cameras. But when he'd seen Caitlin's clips in that first little test, realized Gideon could access events that had been recorded a while ago, he hadn't been able to keep himself from coming back. He let these videos of her bustling around the Cortex, or through the halls back then, play around him as he worked. Listened to her talk herself through a project or call a past version of him on the comms system. Heard her voice and watched her move.

Gideon had switched the feed, changing it to the camera that had been facing Caitlin back then. Just as Savitar had suspected, she'd been biting her lower lip, concentrating altogether too hard on Stein's cure. She was perilously close to dipping her hair into the phial.

Savitar watched the screen, watched her hands move expertly over her tools, her craft. He could feel the hunger building inside of him—the hunger to see her again, in person. To hear her talk to him the way she had just before she'd left, with that warmth and that nervous energy.

Not the way she'd been on the MP3 device. Not awkward, apologetic. Unhappy.

Greed tried to choke him, that familiar, absurd godlike expectation. He wanted her with him, she should be with him. What use did Barry Allen have for her on that Earth? Every day, it seemed less and less fair that she'd had to return, that she couldn't make a new home on Earth-66. He'd had to, hadn't he? Then he'd screwed up and begun loving her, so why shouldn't she come back and let him shower her with the consequences of that?

He did love her. It wasn't hard to think of or even to say to himself, not after everything that had happened months ago. Not after how much he'd changed, how much he'd been able to feel again—feelings that weren't all saturated in pain, for once.

Loved Caitlin. As hard and fast as Barry had ever loved anyone, because he was Barry. A different Barry.

And Savitar didn't deal with unresolved longing any better than Barry did.

He watched the projection until he dropped the screwdriver, his work forgotten. He remembered the way Caitlin had looked at him on Infantino Street, telling him she wanted him, exactly as he was. No one had ever done that before. He had memories that said they'd done it to Barry—but not to him. Not until Dr. Snow came on the scene.

Savitar stood, pacing in no particular direction, not even moving back and forth. Eyes on the screen for a solid fifteen minutes straight, raking his hands through his hair, a Barry-habit he never quite outgrew.

Caitlin humming Grease to herself as she stirred and measured. Caitlin washing her hands in the med bay. Caitlin scowling at a stain she'd gotten on her lab coat. Savitar was full of Caitlin, every twitch of her mouth, every wrinkle of her nose, every swish of her light-brown curls in that old footage—all in the corners of his mind and the twisting of his fingers through his hair.

It was too much like what Barry had gone through for Iris. But Barry never had to live on separate Earths from his precious 'lightning rod', had he? Of course it was worse for Savitar. Of course he only got to observe what he couldn't have.

Again.

Was his whole life destined to be one big "look, but don't touch" sign?

"You know she promised she'd visit, right?"

Savitar turned, heels growling against the dusty floor. Wally was standing with his back against the doorframe, watching the projection too. For a split second, Savitar felt possessive of the clips on the walls. They were as close to the real thing as he'd get for now, after all. But he brushed it off, glaring at the engineer.

"I'm working."

"Yeah," Wally nodded at the screens. "I can see that." He pushed himself off of the doorframe, walking up to put a hand through Gideon's holo-head. It was always the first thing he did, coming into the Savitar's workshop.

The speedster folded his arms, leaning against the wall. "What do you want, Wally?"

Wally shrugged, undeterred by the sharp edge in his leader's voice. "Just checkin' on you. You been weird lately." He pointed to the video-Caitlin, who was wiping down the glass demonstration board. "Is it cuz of her?"

Savitar didn't dignify that with a response. He knew what it was to have an emotional pow-wow with the West family. Or his borrowed memories knew, anyway. And he wasn't interested. This version of Wally was always trying to get under his skin, understand how he operated. But Savitar made sure the intern learned the hard way, day by day, that some people just didn't want to be cracked open.

"She's coming back, man."

Savitar clicked his tongue. He cocked his head at the boy wonder, squinting, almost smirking. "I don't need a pep talk."

"No, you don't." Wally tapped a few keys on Gideon's silver console, and the brightness of the projection dimmed. Caitlin and the Cortex still streamed around them, but darker, harder to focus on. "You need to stop wasting time."

Savitar's eyebrows shot to his hairline. There was one thing he didn't mind about this Earth's not-so-Kid Flash—his bluntness. As time went on, Wally West-66 proved he wasn't quite as sappy as his Earth-1 counterpart. He had more backbone than Eddie in that regard. This Wally knew there was a time for sympathy, for kind words, and a time to toss all of that into a white-hot fire and bring out the tough love.

"Wasting time." Savitar repeated the phrase, jaw working. Watching Wally with a slight twinkle in his one good eye.

"Yeah."

"Creating an artificial intelligence in 7 months. That's your idea of wasting time?"

Wally snorted a short, skeptical laugh. "You really think Caitlin'd want you sitting up here, alone? Ignoring your teammates? Pretending she's here—"

"Careful, Wallace." Savitar let a bit of bite slide into his tone.

"I'm serious, Savitar." Wally straightened, looking his friend right in the eyes. "Okay? Look, everybody here misses Caitlin. But we're not hiding in a dark room somewhere, waitin' for her to come back. We moved on."

Savitar chortled, looking away. Wally didn't understand. Was this really what Barry's friends did all the time? Followed you out into the hall—into the Time Vault—into Joe's living room? As though long, moony conversations would fix everything so quickly?

"I'm not saying, like…you have to forget her or anything. That's not it." Wally pursed his lips, glancing almost guiltily at the footage to his right. "But she wanted us to help people, build our own lives. Especially you, man. Caitlin's not here. We are. We can't move forward without you."

Savitar narrowed his eyes at the boy. There were two other Wallys in his memory banks. One was catatonic, 2024's Wally, trapped forever in a wheelchair, punished for trying to protect the people he loved. The other was a hero, sacrificing his time and comfort to rescue others, content to run in Barry Allen's wake.

And as selfless as they were, neither of those Wally Wests belonged to him. To Savitar. But this one did—and they were the only piece of the Wests that he got to keep.

"All I'm saying is," Wally concluded, clapping Savitar on the shoulder, "you could sit up here and mope and wait for your girl to come busting back into our lives…"

He pulled out Savitar's compressor ring. The black-and-ice-blue suit was inside, ready to be donned at a moment's notice. They'd had it made a week after Caitlin's departure.

"…or you could get out there and help us. Still gotta check the lower district for survivors. We're tryna be more, right? Be better. Make the most of what you got."

Wally stepped back, waiting for a response. He realized quicker than Eddie or Stein might have that he wouldn't be getting one. When he exited the workspace, he left the compressor ring in Savitar's hand.

Savitar glanced down at the ring, still feeling the warmth on his shoulder where Wally had hit him. He didn't have much experience with physical touch. All part of being on a team. Not used to it yet.

"Savitar?" Gideon cut through the quiet. "Would you like me to stop the footage?"

Thinking of Caitlin did make things harder. Waiting for Caitlin was like waiting for oxygen when you were too short of breath. And missing Caitlin was stagnation, a puddle of water with no bigger body of liquid to join. Life was drying out fast.

Wally was right about some of it. Savitar needed to live his own life, build his own future now that he wasn't trapped in the Speed Force. Now that he wasn't trying to become a god. Now that his pain had eased up some, now that he wasn't running from it, trying to exact revenge or fragment himself throughout time.

You know. Like people do, sometimes.

And though he wanted Caitlin Snow to be a part of that brave new life, it seemed he'd have to wait. She hadn't called him—just to talk—in weeks. It had only made him more frayed at the edges. And when he thought of her voice or her scent or her compassion or her smile…

It made everything else stand still. And everything else couldn't stand still. She'd helped him create a world for himself, a day-to-day for himself, and he was squandering that chance.

"Sometimes," Henry Allen had said, "you just have to slow down to get back to where you want to be."

Savitar knew where he wanted to be. He wanted to be the way he remembered Barry feeling on a daily basis: hopeful, happy, content. Full of love and surrounded by a family. Lit up from the inside out. He still felt so far from that warmth.

And he hadn't slowed down at all. He'd kept himself busy, kept himself fast and shaking, replaying scenes of Caitlin Snow and her contribution to him over and over and over…

He didn't know what to do with his freedom either. But it couldn't be like this. Not for much longer. Not with this much hunger for her.

Gideon repeated her question. "Would you like me to stop the footage?"

But Savitar found he didn't have an answer.

(Author's Note: Ah, Savitar. Your chapters are always fun to write, you drama llama.

LEAVE A REVIEW. If you want. Please. I read them all and I need the feedback these days. Love you, Jell-O Squares! More chapters coming soon. Don't forget that my Twitter has updates. ~Doverstar)