Welcome back. No new warnings this chapter, just references to what happened last time. Enjoy.

Chapter two

When Cisco woke, his head ached and his whole right side felt numb. Until recently he'd never been one to wake confused, unsure of where he was or what had happened, but days of sleep deprivation to avoid nightmares and too many mornings waking up after too long without rest had taken that. Blinking open his eyes was surprisingly difficult-they felt glued shut, but he managed it. It was about then, as he tried to sit up and found that his hands were immobilized behind his back, that he remembered. The mugging that was not a mugging, the wall, the rag. Kidnappers. His heart took off like one of the out of control trains Barry'd stopped, the air in his lungs like lead. His wrists burned as he twisted his hands, trying to remember everything he'd picked up from TV shows, Internet, and the occasional advice from Eddie or Oliver. There was no give at all in the plastic zipcuffs-if anything, they seemed to get tighter. Curse words in three and a half different languages ran through his head as he tried to focus, tried to breathe.

Padre nuestro que estás en los cielos, he switched from swearing to praying, trying to match his breathing with the familiar pattern of the memorized words. It was an old calming trick as much as a religious gesture. It helped, but not by much.

Getting into a sitting position was harder than he'd have liked, but doable, even with his head pounding and his hands and legs so stiff and aching. It looked like every cliche he'd ever seen: bare concrete floor, plain walls, no windows, single door. He was alone. That ruled out Snart, probably. Lisa would be here if it had been Snart, and he wasn't the type to leave the dirty work to underlings in any case. Somehow, the thought that it wasn't Captain Cold did nothing to ease his fear. If it wasn't the Rogues, then...who? The real question, he guessed, was why? They hadn't wanted his pocket change, that was for sure, and it hadn't been something spur of the moment. They'd been waiting. For anyone in particular? Or for him specifically? His head throbbed.

He shifted as best he could so he faced the door, trying to feel for anything useful in his pockets-they'd taken his bag and jacket, and apparently his shoes-but it looked like whoever they were, they'd gotten everything down to his last paperclip. Barry will notice, Caitlin and Barry will notice, this isn't like with freaking Glider. It can't have been that long. Hours? Maybe. Just gotta stay calm, just gotta breathe. Unfortunately, his lungs seemed to forget how to work. Ok. Gotta be ready, gotta breathe, gotta think. Not Snart. Maybe it's...no, not Hartley's style, and anyway he just hated Wells, mostly. Who else, who else? There were still people who hated STAR Labs...even some fanatics. Maybe a group of them had gotten together, like Farooq but without the Zappy superpowers? That would mean Caitlin was in danger too, they were all that was left. But people like that, they wouldn't have left him, right? They'd want to do their stupid gloaty "science is evil, earth is flat and Edison was a witch" bullshit, right? Unless they just left you here to die of dehydration, the annoyingly pessimistic and increasingly louder part of his brain offered. Ok, no, Barry, or Joe, or Eddie, someone will find me before that, so you shush. He didn't exactly have enemies, so whatever this was, it had to be about STAR Labs, the Flash, or...weapons. Someone else taking a page from Cold's book? Barry had said, later, that Snart had gotten away from him at the casino by threatening…

"Oh, God, no," Cisco whispered in a fervent prayer, realizing for the first time that he wasn't gagged-why bother, the only people who could hear him would probably be his kidnappers. They'd been professionals, after all, and if Nimbus was any example, Crime families didn't just forgive things like making weapons used to rob them. On the bright side-if there was such a thing-that might mean that he was the only target. He hoped so, at any rate.
Managing to get to his feet was harder than sitting up had been, and Cisco vowed that as soon as he was out of here, he was going to take up some kind of routine with stretches and yoga, that kind of thing. Just because he was the eyes and ears and not out in the field didn't mean being able to do situps wasn't necessary. Though, Cisco admitted to himself, getting to his feet didn't help his situation much. For few seconds, his head swam, and he thought he might pass out or else vomit, but the moment passed. Steeling himself, Cisco glanced around again, this time checking for cameras. Stupid, should have pretended you were still asleep! he thought, but there was no point in that now.

There were no cameras, either, that he could see, and after hunting down Evilbard's spytech, Cisco had gotten pretty good at spotting that kind of thing. Creeping forward, wincing as his numb feet and swollen ankle protested, he checked the door. Locked, but then he'd expected that. What was worse was that there wasn't a keyhole on this side. He knew the basics of lockpicking, and he was sure there was a bobbypin in his hair somewhere if he could just get to it, but that would be useless if the door only unlocked from the outside.

It was as he was examining it that he heard footsteps drawing closer and closer, until they passed him by. Even as they faded, sharp and harsh, the sound rang in his ears and his heartbeat echoed.

When Barry woke, it was to Joe's phone call.
"Barr, I'm sorry, but we're short staffed. Evans called in sick and Jones was stranded out of town what with the trains and all. You know how long it takes to get evidence processed, DNA tests and all, by, uh, normal means."
Barry did know. What often took months or at least weeks took a lot shorter when he could speed up the process or run whatever sample over to STAR Labs where there wasn't a backlog. His side still hurt, but he rolled out of bed, shoving the covers back. "On my way. Let me stop at STAR, I'm out of calorie bars."
"Thanks, see you in a bit."
It was the work of microseconds to dress, run a comb through his hair, and decided making the bed could wait. Then he took off, rocketing down the street faster than was probably wise on so few calories. Caitlin was going to wring his neck if his blood sugar was out of whack again. Still, it felt like he was flying, and he'd never be tired of that.

He burst into the cortex, and was momentarily surprised that it was empty, but shrugged. They'd all had a long day, he was pretty sure he wasn't the only one who wanted to sleep in. Plus, ever since discovering the Time Vault (even if Eobard had taken the AI) and the creepy bonus prison under the pipeline, Cisco had taken to exploring. The break room was empty as well, but honestly no one ever spent much time in there except to make snacks for movie nights. Barry grabbed the carton of Calorie bars, stuffing three into his pockets and unwrapping a fourth.

"Hey, gotta run to the station, I'll be by after work," he called down the hall. "See ya later!"
The lightning sang in his veins as he took off again, stopping a block from the station itself to check that his shoes weren't on fire. The last time he'd simply raced into his lab, he'd ended up setting some papers on fire with his smoking shoelaces. That had taught him to check first, and he'd invested in some paperweights.
Sometimes it didn't feel as rewarding, working in the lab, next to running through the streets stopping crimes. The first few weeks had been the worst, but now Barry finally felt he had the balance. There were people that the police couldn't get to in time, people that normal means couldn't save, people that he could help as the Flash. But there were people that his work as a CSI, analyzing and compiling evidence, helped, too. And some of them, the Flash wasn't enough to save.

He flipped through the small mountain of files, sorting them into piles of Do Here, Do at STAR. That done, and his first calorie bar eaten he set in on the first stack.

"You really need to block the door, set up an alarm, something," Joe told him. Barry slammed the folder closed.

"Uh.."

"Eddie and I do what we can, but one of these days if you aren't careful someone's gonna notice."
Barry winced. "Sorry."
Joe shook his head. "Yeah, well, you've gotten better. How's everything at STAR? Have you spoken to Iris?"
"Not since yesterday when I got home. And things are fine, I mean I just stopped to grab some of these." He held up a bar. " Something's different about them, they actually taste decent now. I don't know if it's practice, or that I'm just used to it."

"Could be both. You can get used to anything. Anyway, I came for the Hale case-did you finish that one? Singh put a priority on it."

" Yeah, gimme a," Barry blurred as he rifled through the stack, "second." He held it out, and Joe took it.
"Great, thanks. I'll tell Iris she and Eddie need to come for dinner, invite Cisco and Caitlin if you want."
Barry nodded, overeager. "After this week, we need a party. I'll see you at home."

Caitlin could feel her still scorched tongue, her mouth like a desert. Blinking, she lifted her head from where it fell forward to her chest, wincing at her sitting position. A jolt ran through her body, the way one's body twitches awake from a nightmare of falling, but her head still felt stuffed with sand and cotton, she couldn't think, couldn't remember…
She tried to raise a hand to her head and found that she couldn't. The movement was halted by a rattle of metal, something around her wrist, and the other. The fog in her brain cleared some, as she struggled, then faded away almost completely, replaced by terror. Everything was dark, and only the fact that she could make out the faintest thin line of light along what had to be a wall reassured her that whatever drug her kidnappers had used-she'd been kidnapped-had not stolen her sight.

In the not-quite-year that Barry had been the Flash, she'd been in Bad situations before. She'd faced her own vulnerability and mortality more times than most people did in a lifetime in a scant 18 months since the particle accelerator had blown. But no matter how many times she'd feared for her own life, or the lives of her friends-her family-she knew she'd never be used to it. It wasn't something she thought she could ever be desensitized to. Caitlin had hoped that she'd at least be able to stay more focused, less panicked, that fear wouldn't take control of her entirely, given enough of these experiences.
But she was just as terrified now as the night Leonard Snart had dragged her from her car, as the night Blackout had nearly caught her and the others. Experience had not given her more control over the fear, she realized, her breathing coming far too fast-god, she had to slow her breathing or she'd pass out-it had given her more things to fear. This was worse than a known enemy with a known goal, far worse, she decided. Everything will be fine, they'll find me. My phone's got a tracker, if they haven't ditched it, and Barry-Cisco-Joe-they'll find me. Easy. Breathe. If they wanted you dead, you'd be dead. You're not dead, so they need you, so there's going to be something you can do to get away or signal for help. Panic solves nothing. Be rational.

Again, she tugged at the restraints locked around her wrists, solid metal cuffs secured not only to her but to the back of the solid metal chair. She winced as the metal bit deep, but kept up the struggle. With the last of the drug clearing from her head, she looked around, finally paying attention to her surroundings. It felt like the warehouse Snart and Rory had used, the same old storage vibe, but she also got the sense of closeness, walls, so...she wasn't sure. It didn't feel like a closet, but it didn't feel like an open space, either. No windows, unless one was behind her in her blind spot and blocked. Or unless it's night, hundreds of miles from anywhere and Barry can't find-stop that, that won't help. In that faint line of light, she thought she saw the glint something-metal? Polished wood?-in front of her, and kicked experimentally. Her foot knocked against a table of some kind, but she got no further in the tactile exploration when that pencil thin slash of light that marked the bottom of a door vanished. Caitlin stiffened, closing her eyes tightly as the light returned, full bright when the door swung open and someone flipped a switch. Heavy footsteps neared her, and her eyes flew open without order.

"Hello, Doctor Snow." She knew that voice, and she knew the face it belonged to. Fear warred inside her with anger, but also with utter dread. Caitlin took back the previous thought. This was no unknown enemy, and she could guess now the reason she'd been targeted as her captor towered over her, smirking. "Comfortable?"

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