And we're back! Warnings for this chapter: Canon typical violence, threats.

Chapter 5

Something was definitely wrong. Barry'd had most of the day at work, and not once had a call for the Flash come in, not even a text from Cisco. Even if there hadn't been anything for the Flash to do, no contact was unheard-of-strange, but the worst thing was that that wasn't the case. Barry'd seen a fire truck roar past his window, a few storeys below, and chased after it, luckily arriving to the house fire in time to save the occupants (a family of six, plus three turtles). By that time it was edging into late afternoon, and the fog of sleep and exhaustion from the day before had worn off fully. Rather than return to work right away-he needed to check some of the samples using STAR equipment anyway, and it was long past time for even a belated lunch. He made his way to the Lab.

The trip took under a minute-under half a minute, really, and when Barry skidded to a halt in the parking lot, he frowned. He noticed the two STAR Labs vans, moved from the garage ages ago, but there was no sign of Caitlin's dinky little fiat. Once inside, the scuffed up part of the wall where Cisco usually leaned his bike was conspicuously empty, as was the cortex. Barry set the samples up, then tore through the labs, going just slow enough that he wouldn't miss anything. He checked all several dozen cells in the pipeline, the subbasement, the time vault, the empty offices, break room, even the tiny pseudo-morgue. Empty. All of it was empty. Maybe they'd taken the day off, like he'd planned on? Maybe Caitlin was visiting Ronnie up north, she'd mentioned missing him… but he wouldn't have forgotten if she'd made plans. He was pretty sure, anyway.

A last look around the cortex solidified the feeling. This wasn't a joke or a game, something was wrong. What if Cisco had been more badly hurt than they'd thought, after yesterday, what if Caitlin had been? He left the samples on the desk, any thoughts about actual police work gone. He called her phone, then Cisco's, twice each. Both went right to voicemail, Caitlin's practical "You've reached the phone of Caitlin Snow" and Cisco's "Traveling through time and space, leave a message and I'll call you tomorrow or yesterday." Barry left hurried messages on both, knowing he was speed talking and not caring. Cisco'd rigged a way to slow the messages down; Caitlin would just call back. Just to be certain, he texted, then started pacing.

No, he didn't want to wait, what if something really bad had happened? He'd stop by their apartments, if they were there, good, if not-he'd have to call Joe. He wasn't going to let this be like the last times, when he'd only learned they were in danger from Snart and Rory too late to do anything except what the Rogues wanted. What good was superspeed if he couldn't help people faster? What good was being a hero if he couldn't help his friends?

Caitlin's apartment door was locked, but it wasn't hard to phase through the door, after knocking three times and calling through to let her know, just in case. He checked the tiny kitchen first-empty, not even a dish in the sink. He knew when Caitlin was sick, she far preferred to crawl out onto the couch, near to the TV so she could watch bad daytime television and soaps, but the sitting area was empty as well, the lap blanket neatly folded. Her bedroom was just as bare. The bed was made, her shoes missing from the little rack beside the closet, her favorite coat not on the peg by the door. Barry felt something clench in his stomach, the acids roiling and churning. Her car wasn't in her parking spot, either, just an empty stall with her apartment number and a few faded oil drips. She had left, then, but going where? It could have been nothing- a day trip to see Ronnie or possibly (unlikely) her mother, but somehow, that didn't sit right with Barry.

Cisco's apartment was just as empty, his bike secured in the building garage, since it was a walkup. For a moment, Barry thought that was good- maybe Cisco had stayed up late binge watching on Netflix, and was still asleep. But no one answered the door, and when Barry phased through the wall, rattling the shelf of knick knacks, Cisco didn't shout at him. No new dishes on the table, no sign of anyone home, no music playing…

"Cisco? Cisco, are you here?" Barry opened the bedroom door. Again, nothing. No signs of struggling, either, the bed-the bed looked like it hadn't been slept in, the chargers for his laptop and phone were empty.

Barry checked the laundry basket. An unmade bed or dishes in the sink wouldn't tell him if Cisco had been here, but the hamper... Cisco never, ever wore the same t-shirt two days in a row if he could avoid it, he had dozens and "couldn't play favorites."

The Firefly shirt from the day before wasn't in the basket, or on the ground. A scan of the laundry room in the basement showed that it wasn't there, either, though Barry hadn't expected it to be, with the basket half full.

The implication hit hard and fast, and Barry caught himself on one of the dyers, empty and cold.
Cisco hadn't made it home the night before.

Ronnie allowed himself to be manhandled out of the van, and braced, looking around for any clues to where he might be. The space was a large, empty warehouse type-possibly a hangar for aircraft, the ceilings were high enough. He'd spent a lot of time poking around buildings like this one, with Martin, looking for places to hide out if things ever got bad, or where they could safely practice their powers. Wherever this building was, he didn't recognize it. It might have been in Central or Keystone, but realistically...his sense of direction and timing had been flawed ever since the Professor had taken up residence in his head, and even when it was just him (and so lonely) he still had a hard time with estimations.

But Eiling had taken his watch and shoes, which was about the extent of his personal affects, and he might as well have been unconscious for all the clues he had about where he was.

Eiling himself was nowhere in sight, which did nothing to settle Ronnie's racing heartbeat. He wanted to wipe the sweat from his palms and forehead, and the cruel, calculating looks from his captors' faces, but he's been cuffed as soon as they'd gotten him into the van. Not that he would have fought back, as much as he itched to. Not while they had Caitlin, not while they had his Cait as a hostage.

"I want to see Caitlin," he demanded, looking at the guy with a fancier uniform, the one holding his upper arm in a solid grip. "Where is she?"

"In time. I think it's time the two of you separated. Can't have you trying any little tricks, Raymond, Professor." The man dipped his head in a condescending nod, a mockery of greeting. "Now, if you please, or we'll have to resort to...other methods."

More than ever, Ronnie was glad Martin was safe, he could feel that in his bones. Martin was safe, and hidden. "We want to see Dr. Snow," he bluffed, trying to use Martin's inflections. He'd gotten good at the mimicry over the last few weeks, never to the point of fooling Clarissa, but others, like Barry, once.

"Separate first. What, you think we'll just take you to her so you can set the place on fire and escape? That's not going to work this time. Don't make me ask again."

Ronnie swallowed, anger pulsing like a wavering flame in his veins. He was so close, if only he was merged with Martin, he could set these bastards on fire right here and now and save her, find her-but he was just Ronnie, useless alone.

"Tick tock," The man-Ronnie couldn't make out the name embroidered on his shoulder from this angle-actually pretended to look at a watch he wasn't wearing as he spoke. "This will go easier for all of you if you behave."

"I-" Ronnie looked around, desperately searching for a way out, hoping some kind of plan would occur to him. "Let her go, I- we don't need to see her, just conformation she's been released."

"No. Don't presume you're the ones holding the cards here. I'm going to make this very simple. You two separate and behave, otherwise, I'll make a call to my boss that I'm sure you and the lovely Doctor Snow will regret deeply." The man smirked. "Ten. Nine. Eig-"

"I can't," Ronnie burst out, startling his captor. " I can't. The professor's not here, it's just me."

"What?" the man snarled, very much like an unpredictable animal. "Where is he?"

Ronnie took a deep breath, trying to calm his erratic heartbeat and failing. "Let Caitlin Snow go, or you'll never find him." He had no intention of giving up Martin, the poor man had suffered enough at Eiling's hands, but he had to get Caitlin out of the mess first.

It wasn't that he wasn't expecting the pain, just not the force of it. The man holding him released his arm to draw back a fist, and the sudden lack of stability made Ronnie stagger, unable to catch himself. The man on his other side nearly pulled his arm out of joint, hauling him to his feet.

"Where is the professor, Raymond?"

"Go to hell," Ronnie spat back. "I'm not telling you anything until you let Caitlin go."

"Oh, you'll tell us, alright." General Eiling entered through what seemed to be the main door, two men just behind him, half dragging Caitlin between them.
"Caitlin!"
She was pale and bruised, and as Ronnie met her eyes, he tried to communicate some message of comfort to her, even if he wasn't sure he felt it himself. Up a creek without a paddle, as Martin Stein might say, if they didn't-if he--didn't think of something quickly, they were all in big trouble. He could see the tears forming, one eye swollen half shut. She refused to let them fall, looking steadily at him with fear and something else, familiar, in her eyes. The same thing he had seen when she had told him she understood why he and Martin had to leave, when he had told her he had to go with the Flash to rescue Professor Stein the first time, when he had not taken the time to kiss her before racing down into the pipeline. Acceptance, and sorrow at that acceptance, a wanting to refuse it. He wondered if it was the expression he had worn, those last seconds of awareness with his hands around the radio and his back to the wall before flame had engulfed him. Somehow, he doubted he had been so stoic.

"Mr. Raymond, I believe you have information for us," Eiling said, and Ronnie mirrored Caitlin's flinch as one of her captors produced a gun.

"Don't tell them," Caitlin whispered, mouthed more than anything, but Ronnie could read it on her lips, in the set of her chin, the blur of her eyes. He shook his head. He and Martin had been willing to die for Caitlin and Clarissa before. The sentiment had never changed.

"Promise you won't hurt her, if I tell you," he said at last, and he could almost feel the second heartbeat racing alongside his own.

"As long as you cooperate, she lives," Eiling countered, a slow smile crossing his face. "More than fair, really. Alive and in one piece is the best deal you'll get, Firestorm."

Before Caitlin could speak, Ronnie nodded, both ashamed at the weakness of betrayal and too concerned for Caitlin to care. Any price was worth her life. "City library. The North branch of the Central City Library. If he's not there, or he got spooked, there's a storage space on 15th, two blocks down. His name may still be on the lease, maybe not, but that's where he'll be." Ronnie swallowed hard, could feel burning behind his eyes and in the way his palms itched as he stared at the general. "Now let her go."

Eiling bowed his head in a mockery of respect. "Your information has been most helpful. Hope that it remains that way."
Ronnie bit off a cry as someone behind him bundled a dark cloth over his head, a heavy sack.

"Get them out of here," Eiling said. "Put them in the van, and someone collect the professor. Now."

"Ronnie!" Caitlin cried out, her voice muffled. Ronnie surged towards it, twisting in the soldiers' grip, only to be yanked back toward the same transport van he'd been brought in, slamming into the bumper and being hauled off his feet. He hit the back wall, scrambling blindly to his knees, as something crashed into him. Caitlin. As best he could in the cramped space, he heaved himself upright, fingers searching until they met Caitlin's small, cool hands, and squeezed them gently.

"I'm here," he said, leaning back enough that his shoulder brushed hers. She leant into it, and he could feel her trembling. "I've got you."

Remember, Comments make the world go round, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Next chapter will be up Saturday. American readers, have a happy Thanksgiving.