After all they'd seen in their lives, it should have felt right and fair and normal to run into ninjas at some point. But instead it was just bizarre.

"Where did these guys come from again?" Wally asked. He was at a table against the far wall, monitoring Savitar's vitals on their newest piece of tech—a touch screen. This Cortex's first of its kind, installed by the speedster and West himself months ago.

Eddie was working the computer on Caitlin's right, hacked into Main Street's traffic cameras. "Out of town. Some…anime-wannabe, robber gang from Star City. Usually they take on high-security vaults, only the really expensive stuff." He zoomed in, squinting. "Chief figured they'd run out of jobs there sooner or later. I didn't think they'd hit us first, though."

"I feel special," Savitar added wryly through the comms.

Onscreen, the street outside Mercury Labs was a blur of black clothing. Five slender, silent men covered from head to toe were doing battle with the hero, driven out of the building after attempting to steal some sort of cutting-edge, teleportation device.

It was the last afternoon Caitlin was scheduled to have on Earth-66. Everything today was feeling a little off-color. It was hot outside—July weather in the middle of April—Sandra Peterson had been sick; some strange brunette had taken her place on the news that morning, and Professor Stein was wearing a tie with caramel-colored stripes.

"It was a gift from Clarissa," he had explained very coldly when Wally pointed it out.

"It's festive," Caitlin had offered meekly.

"Isn't it?" He loosened it a little. "She knows I detest stripes. Some sort of punishment for being late to our brunch yesterday, no doubt."

Currently, Stein was at Eddie's shoulder, watching Savitar's progress—or lack thereof.

"This is ludicrous," Stein complained. "He should have been done by now."

"He's outnumbered," Eddie pointed out.

"Irrelevant to a speedster. He could have easily taken care of them ten minutes ago. Their reflexes are average in their field, at best," the Professor went on, gesturing to the screen impatiently.

"What, you a closet kung fu junkie, Prof?" Wally called from the corner.

Stein's mood did not improve at the sight of the intern's smirk. "I've studied a variety of martial arts over the years, if that's what you mean."

"But just with your eyes, right?" Eddie shot a barely-controlled grin toward Wally.

"Boys," Caitlin warned, drawing out the word. "Focus." She leaned a little closer to the comms mic. "Savitar, Eddie sent a squad to your location. If you can immobilize them all in the same place—"

"Then I might actually start my physics class on time today," Stein muttered.

"—this'll be easier to clean up," Caitlin finished with a glare in the Professor's direction. Some days, it was like babysitting someone else's dogs. Dogs of all ages.

"It's the tie," Wally told her, miming the tightening of a knot near his throat. "Making him salty."

"Salty?" repeated Stein, blinking.

"It means—"

"Three down," Savitar interrupted.

Sure enough, he'd rendered three of the ninjas unconscious on the sidewalk. The last two were fighting harder than ever, and the team watched as the speedster dodged two punches, kicking the legs out from under one of them. Here, a blow was delivered to knock him out, and though Caitlin knew it was necessary, she would never be used to the way Savitar did it. It wasn't as fast as it could have been, or as reluctant as Barry's. Sometimes she thought he still relished the fighting a little too much.

"Looks like it's another point for Savitar," Eddie commented, scratching the back of his neck as he turned a dazzling smile on Caitlin. It was obvious, from the start, which of the two the team had been rooting for.

Caitlin only looked up once with lowered eyebrows, shaking her head at them.

The record had remained a tie. There had been ups and downs for both Caitlin and Savitar during the last week and a half, and every time Savitar got wounded—usually it was nothing his accelerated healing couldn't fix in the next 24 hours—Caitlin had the odd mix of triumph and sadness. It wasn't as if she liked leaving, or even that staying another two weeks would be inconvenient. In truth, she wouldn't have minded. But hidden underneath her grown up, professional exterior, there was a competitive streak that few—except maybe Cisco—got to see.

The speakers in the Cortex crackled a bit as Savitar continued his countdown, hardly even out of breath. Clearly he had been dragging it out. It had been a boring day before this heist.

"One to—"

Then he got stabbed in the side.

Wally's Jordans smacked hard against the floor as he shot out of his seat. "Dude had a knife—"

Caitlin felt her stomach rising toward her throat. She should have been level-headed, not a hint of nausea stepping up to the plate, but she couldn't help it. Somehow watching Barry get grievously and suddenly injured was different, now, than watching Savitar receive the same treatment. Even with Barry, she still felt her hands shake before preparing the med bay. With Savitar it used to be all frustration, just a hint of those familiar nerves thrown in. These days it was part frustration, part throat-constricting terror when something really dangerous happened. Cisco would cite something about trauma on repeat for her.

The team watched Savitar drop to the ground as the last enemy turned and slid toward the nearest alley.

Savitar's back was to the street camera at this point; they saw him stagger a little and then flash after the retreating villain, only to stop a few feet down the sidewalk and lean on a traffic pole.

"Squad should be there any minute," Eddie announced.

Caitlin shook her head hard. "And what are they going to do, sign him into the closest ER?" She fumbled with the mic. "Savitar, can you hear me?"

Air hissed out from what was probably the space between Savitar's tightly-clenched teeth. The speakers in the room popped a little with the growl of it. "Little busy."

"Professor," Eddie was saying, somewhere in the background, "map out the fastest route back."

"Three steps ahead of you, Detective." Stein was tapping away at the third keyboard behind the desk.

"He's got at least two arteries hit," Wally reported, gripping the sides of the touchscreen a bit harder than necessary.

"Savitar—you're the fastest ride you've got," Caitlin continued into the comms. "The police are en route."

She paused, trying and failing to resist the urge to fling a hand up and let it smack into the desk in pure exasperation. She should have to ask this. This was her life now. Good thing her old biology professor never kept in touch; she'd have gotten an earful. Several earfuls.

"Do you think you can run yourself back here without passing out?"

"Between—that and dying—" Savitar winced audibly, cutting his sarcasm short. "On my way."

Stein reached over and took the mic from Caitlin with steady hands. It was comforting to have someone older than her there—older than any version of Dr. Wells, too, come to think of it. "Cut around the park and move in a perfectly straight line along the riverside. Avoid all obstacles and you should be here in less than two minutes."

Eddie, running a hand through his hair, pulled out his phone to contact the cops only seconds from the scene. They would need to know where exactly to take the culprits, and which way the final ninja had gone. Like parents in a waiting room, both his and Caitlin's eyes were glued to the dot that represented Savitar on the monitor, beeping as it made its way toward the Labs.

FWOOSH!

Savitar was in the Cortex, and he was gripping the handle protruding from his side with one hand, hood off.

Almost at the same moment, Wally hurried in, wheeling the med bay's gurney. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Caitlin taped a sticky note that demanded she hug the boy for it later.

"Don't think this means I lost," Savitar told her in a rush as they moved him to the gurney. "Still got twelve hours."

"Some things are better to discuss post-surgery," Caitlin snapped, wheeling him out.

An hour and a half, quite a bit of lightning-infused blood, and one incredible stitching job later, Caitlin was washing her hands for the fifth time in the med bay. It was mostly a coping mechanism; the majority of the time she'd been wearing gloves.

Savitar, weak from blood loss, was still lying on the gurney, though the top half had been raised up to suit him. His hair was mightily sweaty, his skin paler than usual, and both eyes were shut.

He was now wearing a S.T.A.R. Labs sweatshirt and pants, having changed right after waking up a second time and immediately falling asleep after she started the IV process. Caitlin watched his chest rise and fall for a full twenty minutes after everything had calmed down, using the sight to soothe her own heartbeat. All the hell he'd caused her and her friends since they'd met, and here she was, shaking at the sight of him on a hospital bed. It was true, then, what people always said on TV. Anything can happen.

Savitar was not, as it turned out, asleep. She wasn't sure how long he had been awake before she noticed him watching her beneath hooded lids. After a moment, he turned his head so that he was looking up at the ceiling, letting an arm flop against the cot.

"How long do I have to lay here?"

Even if she'd been expecting the question, she still had to call for patience. One…two…three… "Until that IV is empty." She pointed to the bag full of red hanging nearby.

Savitar let out a tiny sigh through his nose. "You're biting your lower lip." He was still staring at the ceiling.

Caitlin quickly released said lip. "No. I'm not."

"I told you not to worry about me."

Four. Five. Six. Seven. "I'm sorry, you're right. Next time a 6-foot-eight ninja puts a knife three inches deep into—"

"Caitlin." He turned his palm over on the bed, angling it only slightly toward her. "I'm okay."

She gave him a look, but crossed the distance between them and sat beside the bed on her favorite, extremely-uncomfortable metal stool. "You could've died."

"I didn't."

Caitlin shook her head at him, but she slid her hand into his. It was very warm and damp, and limper than usual. A hint of indignancy crept in as she accused, "And—do you know you lost consciousness right as I went to remove it? Three inches deep, you're lucky to be alive."

Savitar didn't glance over, eyes closed again. His voice was gravelly, exhausted, as he droned, "Removing the weapon means the victim bleeds out. I had to take it with me." Then he did look. "Unless you wanted a trail of meta blood from here to Mercury Labs."

Caitlin shut her eyes for a moment. Of course, this version of Barry would have much more knowledge of daggers and the proper way to wield them—the most effective way, that is. The most damaging. She felt a trickle of chagrin for being taken aback.

"Well, with any luck, I'm thinking we can do a DNA test on the handle and catch our last ninja." She combed her hair back with the free hand. The gloves from Savitar's suit had already been outfitted by Cisco to remove fingerprints from anything he touched, same as Barry's. "Professor Stein should already be on the case."

Savitar grunted.

"You know," Caitlin added, reluctant to let him fall asleep again, "this must be the first time you've been mortally wounded in front of your team." She let a small grin through. "They were kind of a mess."

"They didn't get stabbed," countered Savitar.

"No stitches, no opinion?"

He didn't answer, just held onto her hand and watched her for a few more minutes.

It was always a little intense when those two different eyes hit her, and Caitlin hadn't yet been able to return the gaze the entire time. She especially hadn't been able to match its heat, either. Maybe it was millennia stuck in the Speed Force, or maybe he just practiced in front of a mirror, but he could go for an unnerving amount of time without blinking. Most people in their situation looked at each other with some variation of deep warmth and affection, but Savitar's was stronger and hungrier. He was always going to be a somewhat lonely soul, and any company he could get was highly coveted. It stained his eyes, most often when he was looking at her.

Then he said, "I guess this means you win."

Caitlin tilted her head at him. "Win?"

"The record." Savitar's grip on her got a little tighter.

She plucked a bit of lint off the knee of her jeans. Waiting before giving a response. The first thing out of her mouth was a casual: "An injury like this could lead to infection."

Savitar turned to face her fully, gingerly sitting up.

"And…even with your powers, it's going to take some time to fully heal. You'll need a trained physician monitoring your progress. Making sure you don't over-exert yourself, dressing the wound…"

He was nodding, very slowly, and staring at her all the time.

"Wally's still in training," Caitlin went on, trying to get it all out. He was wearing an expression that told her to get to the point. Her pride demanded he hear every logical explanation she had to offer. "I don't think he's qualified to take care of something this level-three yet. So if—"

"How long till I'm all better?" Savitar's voice was quiet, and the corner of his mouth was twitching a tad.

Caitlin felt her own mouth being tugged into a smile. She couldn't reign it in; his face was disarming. It was like trying not to laugh in the middle of a class. "Three weeks?"

No big grin, no Barry-esque chortle of ecstasy. Savitar slid off the gurney to kiss her.

"You need rest," Caitlin ordered a second later, gently pushing him back toward the cot with one hand. "No more sudden movements. No racing out and being a hero for the next 24 hours."

"Whatever you say, Doctor Snow." Savitar sat down slowly, not breaking eye contact, and their hands were still very tightly connected.

"Good. I'm going to call for pizza. Pizzas." Caitlin took a few steps toward the door. "Rest and sustenance; you should be back to—"

Savitar did not let her get father than both arms would reach, looking back at her with an expression like a fresh sheet of printer paper. Blank and innocent.

"And I'm calling Cisco and Barry to tell them I'll be late getting back," Caitlin added, raising her eyebrows.

He let go then, but the flash of a smile was in the gaze. "Call from in here."

"I can't."

"Call," Savitar repeated firmly, "from in here."

The kneel, mortal voice had never worked on her. "Savitar, my phone is in the Cortex."

His feet touched the floor, but Caitlin was back at the cot in an instant, pushing him back down with hands firmly on his shoulders, like a mother forcing her toddler back to the time-out chair.

"That was almost as fast as me, Cait," he informed her, smirking.

"I've been practicing. Stay." Caitlin pointed threateningly at him. "You're still hooked up to an IV, remember. I am not cleaning up a burst blood bag and pulling a dagger out of your body on the same night."

"Call later."

"What about pizza?"

"I'll live." Savitar lay back, arms crossed carefully over his chest.

Caitlin rolled her eyes and went back to the stool. "I'm guessing you want me to stay here until you fall asleep?"

"No wonder they call you a genius."

"Old habits," she shot back, sighing as she sank down beside him. "You know, the others have probably gone home by now."

Savitar gave a noncommittal hum.

They sat in the quiet for a few minutes, not needing to hold hands, not saying much. Caitlin could still smell the faint coppery scent of blood, and the tips of Savitar's hair were still wet with sweat. There was more than one mark on her lab coat she'd have to take care of. But the stab wound itself started to seem like a bad dream, looking at him in his dark blue Labs shirt and hearing the heart monitor beep normally. She almost wanted to fall asleep. The stress of the past two hours started creeping out, letting fatigue slip into its place.

Then a sudden thought jolted her out of it. "Savitar."

"Cait."

"This means we both win."

He groaned. "What?"

"No no, it's perfect. See, I stay a few extra weeks, and—you got stabbed, so—" She lowered her voice, deep and victorious. "I believe an upgrade is in order."

Savitar scoffed, shaking his head slightly. His voice was no less deep than hers, but his was sleepier, hoarser. "I don't do everyone's a winner, Caitlin."

"Are you saying you're dissatisfied with the results?" Caitlin adopted an innocent few blinks. "Because…if that's the case, it can end a draw. I mean, I can always pack up—"

He opened one eye, looking down at her from his propped-up pillows. "You're staying." It was every bit as no-nonsense as she'd ever been to him. But the last part came on an exhale. "And I'm taking the upgrade."

Caitlin grinned. "No wonder they call you a mastermind."

"You're wrong, though." Savitar swung his legs off the mattress, ignoring Caitlin's glare for it. "I'm the one with the better prize."

She spread her palms. "That's debatable. I get to stay three more weeks and put my acid repellant to good use. If anyone's the real winner, it's me."

"Not from here." Savitar stood, careful not to agitate the IV in his arm, tone still groggy and eyes still bright. "What do I have to do to get Barry to let me keep you?"

Caitlin shook her head hard, teasing cloud melting away. "Savitar, this is how it needs to stay."

"I'm sick of visitation rights."

"And I'm sick of explaining it." She shuffled backward a little, trying to maintain a stern gaze. "Earth-1 needs me just as much as Earth-66 does."

"I don't care about the multiverse." Savitar shot a glare toward the IV pack tethering him over his shoulder, head hanging backward in frustration. "I shouldn't have to take a knife to get you to stick around, Caitlin."

She recoiled. "You—you didn't do it on purpose, did—"

"No." Savitar gave her a look that told her just what he thought of that assumption. It involved a lot of eyebrow. "It's not enough."

"I know. But—it's this," Caitlin sighed, "or nothing. For now."

Savitar stood locking eyes with her, working his jaw. Finally he said, quietly, "You win."

She sat beside him on the cot, hand on his shoulder. It was the only way she knew she'd get him settled back on it. The heart monitor got a mite slower as she gripped his hand. Everything about Savitar slowed down when someone touched him. Normally that wasn't the body's natural response to physical displays of comfort or affection, but Savitar was a special case in most things.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

He rubbed an eye with a hand. "Stop."

"I want to be here for you. And I want to be there, too. This is the only way for me to do both."

"I know."

"So we're good?"

The tiniest Flash smile graced Savitar's tired features. "Looks like it. And I do still win, by the way."

"Oh, really?"

He nodded and slipped a hand over the one she'd laid on his shoulder. "Just for the record."