A/N: Wow, it's been almost a year since I updated this one-shot collection. I never meant to have it be so long! I was on a roll writing these until the heatwave hit last summer and I couldn't sleep/think for several months much less write. Then this piece I eventually got to writing has been tricky to finish.

I toyed with the idea of not including this chapter in the fic, because it is very different in tone to the other chapters and has Savifrost implied too but decided it is still Savisnow, however tragic. But I warn this is very dark and is not at all happy. Savitar isn't redeemed in this and it's heavy angst for Caitlin, including what could be considered major character death (via death of personality), so if that's not something you want to read you may want to skip this chapter.

Also, S4 spoilers ahoy! Set in the original timeline that was referenced in 3x19 by future!Barry, where Savitar and Killer Frost teamed up for 4-5 years until Barry finally took him down, not having known who he was. DeVoe also happened then as far as the show implied, since Abra Kadabra mentioned both Savitar and DeVoe as Barry's biggest foes, plus Savitar mentioned DeVoe in 3x23. This is assuming that Savitar and KF cross paths with DeVoe eventually and that what happens in 4x18 with Frost disappearing also happens in this doomed timeline too but for different reasons and in a very different context.

Big thanks to both shyesplease and unwittingcatalyst for betareading and helping me finally finish this.

Deserve Your Silence

In all the time since he killed Iris West, Savitar and Killer Frost have been virtually unchallenged. The Flash has tried and failed to ensnare him multiple times, growing more pathetic in each of his attempts and creeping closer to being who Savitar needs him to be. He's still waiting patiently for the day Barry recognizes exactly how broken he is and judges himself, themselves , worthless enough to be expendable in his pursuit of revenge. The thought of it haunts Savitar bizarrely, a double-edged sword of heady need and deep revulsion.

Lately Barry's been too caught up with another foe, DeVoe, a fact that Savitar has used to his advantage. DeVoe has all but ignored him and Frost, until now. Savitar finds himself crushed to the floor, body like lead as Killer Frost attempts to spear DeVoe with an icicle. She's too wrapped up in a desire to hurt, her special brand of cold rage pointedly directed at DeVoe in retaliation, to think straight it seems. But then she doesn't know DeVoe, she never lived through that part of Team Flash history like he did, when he was first Barry. He sees her mistake too late and can do nothing to stop it – she touches DeVoe.

"Melt," DeVoe intones somberly yet with satisfaction.

Just like that Frost is gone. A shellshocked Caitlin Snow stands in the decrepit warehouse that is their lair and DeVoe blips back to his pocket dimension without a further word.

Savitar's trapped, waiting for DeVoe's power stolen from Null to wear off, when he hears her start to sob. Caitlin crumples to her knees and he hears the choked gasps between the heaves as she tries to regain control of her emotions. She fails and so he is a captive audience to her breakdown.

He hasn't seen anyone cry in years, except Barry whose pain he is inured to. He hasn't seen Caitlin Snow in years. He honestly never expected to come face to face with her, not in this part of the loop at least. He'd really rather not sit and listen to her but he has no choice. The rawness of her cries dredge up feelings he had done so well to banish – he can't afford empathy with the plan he's had in mind, but she is there and he is at the mercy of her spectacle until he is free. She pays him no mind at all, he'd almost feel insulted if he truly cared what she thought of him.

Finally he can flex his toes a little, and shortly after his mass returns to normal rapidly, nothing restraining him anymore. He stands up with speed and ease, itching to move again, instead he stands there regarding Caitlin Snow, her tears and anguish appearing frozen in Flashtime as he circles around her. Without her powers, she is inconsequential, but something in him reminds him he needs, if not her, then Frost back. Frost is part of the loop, part of his becoming – the one who accepts him, who pushes him over from a remorseful disbelieving time remnant into someone willing to fight for his survival, exactly as she had. Frost being gone isn't part of his plan. Caitlin Snow wrecked and weak in their lair isn't part of his plan. Frost knows what words unlock his potential. Caitlin Snow could very well achieve the exact opposite if given the opportunity.

Shifting back to the tedious speed of mere mortals, he leans over and takes her by the arms, pulling a dazed Caitlin Snow upright. Despite handling her with a befitting dispassion, she seems to mistake his action for some sort of comfort and before he knows it she is clinging to him. Caitlin clings to him just like he recalls her doing after Ronnie died and the sense memory triggers a weird stomach curdling feeling he can't stand. He pushes her away indelicately and she looks up, surprised for a moment. Then reality catches up with Caitlin once more. The horror as she looks upon him, not Barry, not her friend, and not even her ally now that she's not hidden deep behind the icy front.

Her anguish is quickly replaced by a look that he would more readily associate with Frost, but thinking about the way it looks on her much warmer complexion, it has more in common with how she had regarded Zoom long ago. How she had recoiled and bit back with venom when Hunter Zolomon had talked of playing at a hero.

"You murdered Iris," she spits out at him, followed by her face crumpling when the truth catches up to her. "And I helped you... Oh God, Cisco's hands."

She covers her sob with a hand, as if she can keep it in, before moving both her hands to cup around her mouth and nose as she tries to slow her breathing. She's almost hyperventilating now and he feels some sympathy pass through him, for how he had felt once upon a time when he'd found out he was Savitar. He hadn't been so different then. He'd denied, tried to shake it off, but when it was there in front of him, no ifs and buts...written out in the marks on his flesh Frost had traced reverently, welcoming him to something he couldn't fathom. The pain had never stopped. All this and all he had managed was to ensure every version of Barry Allen was as equally damned.

That's how he knows what to say to her, to convince her to cooperate in getting Frost back. "You want the pain to go away."

Except Caitlin doesn't react like he expects. He's spent too long out of her presence to know her as well as the other him would. Her reply is somehow defiant and desperate all at once.

"I can't live like this," she says, an echo of what she had told Cisco on her deathbed, I would rather die than become Killer Frost. And Savitar should know it well too, but it's a sentiment so easily forgotten after this stretch with Frost who has as much fight in her as he.

"You're not destined to die," he says with some spite, because she doesn't get to check out of this story. She's meant to be with him at the beginning. She's meant to be with him until the end .

"Who cares!" she screams in his face, not holding back. His claim to Godhood and the threat of his abilities are meaningless to her now; she has no fear.

He turns away, swallows hard, suddenly lost at this development, with no clue what to do. He's always had a plan as Savitar. Everything has always been clear to him. Hard and brutal, but crystal clear, fueled by a ruthless certainty in his future.

"Why do you care? You're not my friend." Every word she projects indicates her hate for the idea that he could care. He represses a flinch at hearing her voice, not Frost's, but the voice of an old friend talk of him like that after days and months in another tone, another attitude, after getting used to hearing very similar inflections voiced in support.

Frost was cold, but she was right behind him every step of the way, and he'd obviously relied a little too much on that. He shouldn't need Frost like that, he shouldn't need anyone. Frost was meant to be a pawn; useful in her placement and in the sacrifice of Snow. But with what they've been through together she turned from simply another pawn to him to being vital; surviving everything to become a queen on the other side of his chessboard. In the process he made her into more than he ever intended her to be to him. Here she is, as she was, as the ghost of her former self ripping a hole in his plan and simultaneously clawing at the wound where his heart used to be.

Here she is, just as powerful in her absence.

"You were there when I was created," he starts, voice low, annoyed at having to explain himself. Twisting round to face her, he startles Caitlin who nevertheless stays right where she is, tipping her chin up as if to dare him somehow to try and intimidate her properly .

"You're the one who showed me the way when I first broke." He tries to say it dispassionately, but by the way her expression softens, he knows has failed. There's no distance to be had from that trauma – he didn't ever stop breaking, and by now he's been broken too many times, just like her. She falters in her stare, as if she can't bear to relive the tragedy their lives have become. But it must flash before her anyway and dredge up once again what those hands did and what words her lips spoke - not things she would do or say if she'd had a choice.

"Don't you mean Frost," she corrects, bristling at the idea they are one and the same. Her naivete and obliviousness would amuse him if it weren't so endlessly frustrating.

"Snow, the difference between you," he says as he touches her with a single finger, poking at her shoulder, "and Frost was only ever a technicality. You held it all in. You held yourself back."

He steps away again, away from her even though it feels futile, like he can never escape her with how entwined their stories are – but right now they're meeting at the wrong point, a course correct is badly needed. Swinging round to face her, at a greater and more comfortable distance, he delivers the crushing blow.

"You locked it all away, until you exploded, and -" he stops for a second to huff with amusement, "- was that one hell of a fireworks display. Quite the show, bravo."

He finishes with a slow clap and predictably she looks distraught. Only, his satisfaction in garnering the reaction he was aiming for takes a nosedive at her pitiful quivering lip and the threat of fresh tears she's trying desperately to hold back.

"We'll get your powers back. You won't have to feel anything ever again."

He doesn't say it to comfort her – being Frost again isn't a comfort after all – but it's a plan. Her desire to not suffer this existence and his need for Frost meet in the middle, so he will give her a pitied compromise. It's not exactly the release she seems to want but it will achieve the same result overall for her. He envies that promise of her numbness. He's been chasing that for so long, unable to obtain it for himself, and here she is, with him having to hand it to her on a silver platter just to keep his own timeline intact. Fate never ceases to be cruel.

He goes to a lot of trouble getting Caitlin Snow every piece of equipment her sciency heart could want, presented in aid of figuring out her Frost-less conundrum. The problem is she isn't onboard with his plan. Her heart isn't in it, it isn't in anything.

She doesn't comply with his wishes right away. It's not until she's experienced several drawn out days of nothingness that she comes around. Tied up to her chair with too much time to contemplate, her life doesn't sit well with her for long. He knows Dr. Snow needs to work, she always had liked to work through their crises – her brain wants input or else she'd stew on the data she already has, worrying it over and over in her mind.

Once she starts, she's diligent about investigating, though he still keeps a close eye on her. Every moment she is awake, so is he. Forsaking much of his own rest, he becomes sleep deprived and paranoid of the possibilities this change opens up. He can't tell how events will unfold and is wary of her every movement, waiting to see if she'll try anything unexpected. He's not afraid of what she'll do to him, more concerned she might do something stupid, like seek to end it all, and he can't have that. As it turns out, she doesn't try anything. She seems to have come to a defeated acceptance of her situation and can't find the passion to resent Frost for having what she doesn't want anymore. The damage to her life was done as Frost and Frost can live with it.

He's relieved when she finds out she has other cryogenic DNA. Goodbye to the possibility he'd been entertaining of introducing dark matter again. He won't have to risk kidnapping Harry to arrange tearing her apart cell by cell like he once did to himself. After that, all she cares about, if she cares about anything at all, is finding a solution to their mutual problem.

He's as accommodating as is reasonable under the circumstances, though she doesn't help matters, only taking time to ask for what her work needs. He gets her food on a strict schedule - it appears regardless of her hunger, take it or leave it. As with everything else, she never says what she wants, so she gets the scant (to him) leftovers of whatever he's feeling like at the time. Another mattress is deposited near the makeshift lab, since she won't set foot in Frost's room. New clothes are given to shed her reminder of Frost, practical and plain ones in any colour that isn't blue. He even provides her with a lab coat she could feel at home in, a small comfort allowed to herself - she resisted for a moment but ultimately gave in like he was sure she would.

He continues to watch her, a tedious surveillance to make sure she doesn't derail the timeline with anything ill advised. Patience isn't something he's short of but it grates on him to spend time near her. Every further minute brings up more of his past to the front of his mind. It also exposes him to how she is, her old habits risk him falling back into his. He has to actively resist the urge to break the tension with a joke, to tell her to look after herself - these things Barry would do. The most he allows himself is a pointed remark about her lack of sleep.

"You want to go for a world record, how about fastest at unlocking your icy alter ego. Longest time awake isn't any use to me."

The snap of her head and the glare she sends him almost has him thinking he'd triggered something frosty within her. No such luck, but Caitlin Snow regards him with just as much coolness as her other side had ever mustered. And then she gets up. Unexpected. He raises an eyebrow as she all but closes the distance, holding off a few paces away from him.

"Working hard is me looking after myself. I don't want to be here a second longer than I have to."

The conversation is clearly over. She turns on her heels quickly at that and gets back to work. She stays up for 36 hours straight and, despite her claims, it seems more like an action designed to irritate him than something that is necessary to make a breakthrough.

There is no breakthrough. Everything required is there inside her. The question is, what will bring it out? Individually, both of them have spent far too long contemplating what it is that makes Frost tick, and Savitar can only come to one conclusion.

"You have to die so Frost can live."

The conclusion eats away at him because what if it fails . No Snow, no Frost, no hope. He corrects himself there. He'd find a way around it, of course. Creative use of timelines is a specialty of his and, at worst, the timeline could take a little more fuckery, but... This isn't how the timeline is meant to go.

"I thought you didn't want me to die?" she asks, a considered look on her face. He can't read her well enough to know if she is hiding any fear. He doesn't know if any has crept into her after these weeks spent in isolation, in knowing in a small way what it could be to live again. Not that Caitlin Snow has much left to live for.

It isn't her fate to die again anymore than it is Barry's to escape his suffering. Who the her is there becomes meaningless to him. There isn't an absolute line between Frost and Snow anymore, nor this need of his for her that has grown over time. She's part of his plan and he doesn't want to give that up, but all he has to do is give up one for the other. A simple swap that's only complicated by old feelings that need to die too. Somehow the strategy tastes sour as he speaks it.

"You've died before and Frost rose like a phoenix out of your metaphorical ashes." He tries to sound sure about it and can't tell if he's fooling either of them. The end is here with them, air thick with a tension of what if. Caitlin Snow merely nods. No questions, no idea how it will come about or what his plan will entail. There is no putting it off now that he's said it, not a second longer than he has to.

That one last ditch effort is how he finds himself staring out across the ice shelf from the tallest mountain in Antarctica. The Aurora australis hang in the sky and Caitlin Snow stands unmoving next to him as he looks to her in Flashtime. Her expression is almost peaceful for once, stood there unknowingly surrounded by natural yet deadly beauty. Once he goes back to real time she'll freeze rapidly. He'd considered a quick hand to her heart, but that hadn't seemed right, not that any of it does. It has to be the cold, the one thing Frost would welcome, playing to her strength.

He touches her shoulder, bringing her into Flashtime. Delaying the inevitable. A goodbye he never said the first time. Flashtime protects them from the worst of the cold, no windchill to worry about when you move so fast, but she gasps at the cold air without a Speedster's metabolism to heat her up. She recovers swiftly, eyes widening as she glances around her.

"Vinson Massif -"

"- and the polar lights," she finishes for him, breaking out in an awed smile. "I always wanted to see them before..."

"I promise it will be quick. Minutes. You'll have your oblivion soon enough."

"Just one thing before I go…" Her words are said softly, and with a slight chatter of her teeth, but he hears a demand, sees a demand, in how she regards him with purpose.

"I've wondered so many times what it would be like if..." He thinks she can't bear to finish the thought but she does with action what she can't voice. Reaching up, she pulls on his short lapels and kisses him.

Frost has kissed him before on occasion (sometimes the deadly variety) and Frost has kissed Barry (only the deadly variety, once or twice). Maybe Snow was even conscious of those kisses, he really doesn't know precisely how things work with her and Frost sharing since Frost wasn't forthcoming on the practicalities. It tended to be calculated with Frost - a distraction, a play, or a move of some kind, something else he hadn't figured out. Perhaps this isn't much of a departure. He's never kissed Caitlin Snow as any version of himself, but he's under no illusion she is kissing him really.

Physically she curls around him, body already shuddering and seeking out his residual warmth. But she is kissing a Barry from days gone by, a ghost, to match the fleeting idea of them that never came to be. A last choice, wanting to feel for real before she dies, because the next time Frost takes over, she will let her. She wants to disappear and never come back, but she gets this. For a moment, he lets himself just react too. No plan. He vibrates to warm up and she groans into his mouth at the sensation. It's easy to forget then what they are here to do.

But she pulls back, licking her lips a little. She tries to take a step back, wobbling dangerously, not used to moving in Flashtime. He drops them out of Flashtime finally, and she takes another more sure-footed step, separating herself, leaving his tempting heat.

"I almost wish I could say I hope you find what you are looking for, but I think we're past that now, d-don't you? We looked in the wrong places and m-missed what we h-had."

The wind picks up, a deeper chill settling into her bones at the temperature drop. It will be over sooner. However, she's struggling to get her words out as the cold gets to her, but she is determined to have her final say.

"T-there's no going back. Only one...one way out. Goodbye, Savitar."

She turns away from him, futilely wraps her arms around her torso, and gives her full attention to the view as if she is the only person in the world on that mountain top. Her teeth are chattering non-stop. He still watches her watching the sky, her eyes flitting about, following the lights like they are enrapturing.

He feels a creeping sense of fear almost for her. It's foolish. He knows he can stop her before she dies if he wants - he could warm her up. There's a science station barely a split second away for him, with medical supplies. She's in no danger except for what they have agreed to - that he has put into motion - yet his heart pounds in his chest rebelliously as he watches her turn incrementally blue. She turns blue but not the blue he's used to, growing still as he vibrates to keep warm. Part of him wants to touch her, to take away her suffering, but he can't. She suffers this so she will suffer no more afterwards. He bears witness. He waits with bated breath.

Frost will live. The whole point is Frost will live, but Caitlin Snow is still dying again, right in front of him, and he can't not be affected. He doesn't move though, he doesn't stop it - it's necessary. Just like Iris bleeding out on the podium in his - Barry's - arms. Just like Cisco's hands shattering under her ice. Just like Wally breaking under his weight. But he still feels it each time, never as detached as he wants to be. This is why the pain doesn't stop. It was always coming and the difference is he embraces it fully. Bares himself, grits his teeth, but he'll make it through this obstacle course of a timeline. He'll get to the finish line.

Her breathing has gotten shallow. She looks to him, a look he doesn't know how to interpret, and she blinks a single time before her eyes slip closed and she slumps over.

He cradles her until there are no more puffs in the air, not warming himself during that time to avoid interfering. The cold bites into his flesh but it's a fraction of what she felt. Now she is truly numb, Caitlin has slipped away, and he fears he is wrong. He was betting everything on self preservation being the body's strongest instinct, that Frost would come to the fore when threatened. To take Caitlin Snow to the brink of death and have Frost resurge, stronger than ever.

There is no movement, no sound, only the wind and his racing heartbeat that betrays an anxiousness as he contemplates the mistake. He gets up, stumbling away from her body. Then he realizes she is turning paler still, not just her lips and her face, but the coldness tracing down her hair from root to tip until it is triumphant. Frost slips into place with it, her white locks gracing her visage alongside a familiar grin and the brilliant white glow of her unique eyes. The only snow that remains is the snowfall that drifts around Frost and the hard packed ground beneath them.

Frost twists towards him, eyes snapping to his and looking like she's considering something. He thinks for a moment this might be one of the rare occasions Frost will close the distance between them and design to kiss him, arms lacing around his shoulders. This would be one kiss he'd have no trouble interpreting. It could be a curt thank you to substitute what she couldn't bring herself to say, or even explainable by 'I almost died, so lets live a little'. But she doesn't do as he predicts. She stands back, meaningfully keeping the distance between them.

Perhaps it is for the best. To do nothing, say nothing of this night. Better to pretend Frost never left, that she was never stolen away in an instant – that he didn't trade one version of her for another, with some regret where there should be none. That feeling, however fleeting, doesn't belong in this narrative of his he's built around Godhood and his supposed lack of humanity.

Frost turns away, puts her hands on her hips and taps her foot impatiently, waiting for him to get back to business and somewhere more interesting than atop this cold rock. It appears there is an unspoken agreement to ignore the fact that his carefully constructed plan had crumbled before them both. Ultimately, it isn't significant. He adapted. Reset what mattered most. Time to move on.

As he picks up Frost and heads to Central City, the mood is solemn and he is grateful for the blissful quiet running provides.

Neither of them say anything when they are back in the lair, but he sees Frost's distaste in Caitlin's clothes as she starts removing them on her way towards her room, flinging a cardigan into a damp patch on the floor. He isn't sure he can so easily shake off Caitlin Snow as she does, not after unexpectedly being forced to confront her suffering, to watch her go.

Everything he has done is necessary; he needed Frost back just as much as Caitlin Snow wanted to be gone. Yet there is a sting about it, like a lash come back round to bite into the hand that struck out. There's a tightness to his throat he has to swallow down, a familiar tightness from years prior. He's losing yet another part of Barry Allen with her, one he hadn't known he was still holding onto.

Frost is finally one person in total control of her body and mind. Uncontested. The victor. And so is he.