The darkness was comforting.
It used to be suffocating, living alone in this huge empty penthouse, but now it was comforting. The companionship that he craved since he was a child turned out to be a huge disappointment—an overrated idea of people who feared to be alone.
Speaking of overrated idea, love was one of the most exaggerated ideology in the world too.
Barry gritted his teeth, anger flashed up to his head and tainting his vision red.
He should've listened when his doppelgangers said that Iris West was bad news for him.
Striding down the dark hallway heading to his study, he started counting 100 backwards—in Latin—in a futile attempt to distract himself until the weird twisting feelings within his chest calmed down. The weird discomfort had grown and twisted in his chest the moment he suffocated Iris with chloroform, while the sharp unknown invisible pangs assaulted his heart the moment he drugged her to forever sleep. The invisible pain grew even worse as he watched her last dying breath left her. Though, he only felt pleasure and euphoria afterwards—when her unseeing eyes stared at him, tempting him to submit to his lust and fucked her corpse like there was no tomorrow.
Oddly enough, the weird feeling was back when the news was broken to him, it grew more painful when Joe collapsed in his arms, and he still remembered the emptiness that washed over him at the funeral earlier.
It was a weird feeling, and he didn't want it to be guilt, as he felt no guilt before—all of his previous victims never invoke such feelings for him, only pure satisfaction and euphoria once he was done turning them to masterpieces of art.
But this? This might feel like guilt.
If only he knew what guilt felt like.
Shaking his head, he tried to shrug the thoughts away and let the scanner scanned his retina, smiling when the AI unlocked the door. One would question why he had such high-security in his study, but every man has his own secrets and his secrets laid dormant in his study. He pushed the door to his study open with one shoulder, balancing the Styrofoam coffee holder in one hand and flicking the light switch with the other, honestly expecting an exasperating mess.
Savitar was not known to be on his best behaviour when he was agitated, after all.
Thus, he had to raise one shocked brow when the room was perfectly organized just like how he left it three months ago—nothing was out of place, except for the speedster who was lounging on his plush chair.
"You didn't make a mess," he commented blankly.
The speedster didn't even move, only his mismatched eyes rolled to the side to glare at him.
"How old do you think I am? Five?"
"I was thinking around seven or eight years old, but hey, anything that floats your boat."
There was a whoosh of breeze, some violent crackles of lightnings and the speedster was suddenly in front of him.
"Careful, Dr. Allen ," Savitar hissed, bringing one vibrating hand up and gently place it against his chest—the vibration sent odd tingle through his layers of clothes. "I can kill you in a flash."
"You would kill yourself?" Barry cocked an eyebrow.
The speedster shrugged, cold and uncaring.
"Not my first time."
Barry snorted. Ordinary men would have quaked in fear at that threat, but he was no ordinary man. He had his fair share of blood on his hands too, and he killed for leisure and stress-relief purposes—he was hardly an innocent man after all. To him, Savitar was just another killer from alternate universe, nothing overly intimidating at all. The hand that was resting against his chest continued vibrating, but he ignored the silent threat, squared his shoulders and pushed the warm coffee against Savitar's chest.
"Coffee?"
Savitar's mismatched eyes darted down to the Styrofoam cup between their bodies before his lips quirked to an amused smirk. He finally removed that vibrating hand from Barry's chest, taking the cup without so much of a thank you. Barry shook his head, an amused smile grew on his face too when Savitar flashed back to lounge on the chair—the speedster has his feet on the polished table, knowing full well that Barry hated such behaviour, all the while smirking tauntingly as if he was trying to egg Barry on.
Barry ignored the urge to swat those feet off his table and leant against the edge of the polished wood, sipping on his own coffee, waiting for his counterpart to start speaking.
It was a long silence before Savitar finally spoke.
"We told you so."
Barry huffed a monotonous laugh. "And I didn't listen."
They fell into deafening silence again.
"Savitar."
"What?" Come the harsh reply.
"Do you regret it?" Barry murmured, staring into the swirling darkness of his coffee, feeling the discomfort twisted in his chest again as he hesitantly added, "…when you killed your Iris?"
Savitar was silent for a moment before he snorted, the sound was bitter and irritated. "I didn't kill my Iris."
Barry's brows rose to his hairline.
"She killed me instead," the speedster's tone was flat and monotonous, though it grew agitated as he resumed, "…she shot me right through the head. I died on the spot."
That was not something that Barry expected to hear.
"But yet you're here," he deadpanned, gesturing a hand along the length of the lounging speedster. "Alive and kicking."
"Every speedster returned to the speedforce once their life perished."
"So the speedforce is like what, purgatory for speedsters?"
"Yep."
"How the hell are you still alive then?"
Savitar's lips stretched to a manic grin.
"The Flash's hatred was enough to resurrect the dead," he hummed, resting his head more comfortably against the soft headrest, mismatched eyes remained staring at the ceiling. "He needed power. I am power. It isn't hard for him to bend the speedforce to his will and resurrect me."
"Terrifying," Barry commented.
"Beautiful," Savitar countered, eyes still staring blankly at the ceiling. "I hate my original…But him? This hateful Barry Allen?" he huffed, lips curled to that manic grin again. "He is beautiful."
Barry was so sorely tempted to comment that Savitar sounded like he was infatuated with the Flash, but the connotation of that idea was still too strange for Barry himself. That honestly sounded like a fucked up narcissistic infatuation—and this was coming from him, a hobbyist artist whose favourite medium was dead bodies.
Heck, he was still getting used to the idea that there was more than one universe—and apparently majority of his doppelgangers out there were speedsters—so the idea of any versions of himself being infatuated with each other still send weird vibes down his spine.
And Savitar wasn't the type who would admit that he was infatuated, so the probability for Barry to have that vibrating hand through his chest if he dared to comment was so high.
Barry then decided to play safe. "Your power is both a curse and a gift."
Savitar's grin faded. "It's more of a curse now," his voice was almost inaudible, soft and—god forbade—laced with hints of concern. "For him."
Barry pursed his lips thoughtfully. He discovered the multiverse a couple of months ago, when he made a slip while leaving his Christmas victim at the mall and almost got caught. He managed to escape the police because the Flash zipped him away—apparently his past time hobby had amused the visiting speedster so much that the Flash refused to see Barry arrested.
Imagine his surprise when he saw his own face once the cowl was removed.
He somehow had become the Flash's second doctor ever since that day. Killer Frost could only do so much in between working to wipe out all the heroes on the Dark Earth and trying to monitor Flash's chaotic health, so the woman was grateful for Barry's expertise on their side. Moreover, with the Flash's unstable health, Killer Frost really needed the extra hand Barry provided to help the speedster. They grew a form of friendship—he gave her the medical expert counterpart she didn't have, and she introduced him to the beauty of meta-gene.
It was a beautiful irony, when Barry was a best friend with Killer Frost but a nemesis to Frost the Central City's hero.
"None of you have any idea of what is ailing Barry?" he murmured, tasting the weirdness of saying his own name to refer to his doppelganger, but he was getting better at it.
They called him 'Ripper' on their Earth anyway, so there wasn't much confusion.
"Any theory at all?" He prompted again when Savitar remained silent.
"We have too many hypothesis," Savitar's shoulder moved just slightly in a shrug. "As for now, I'm inclined to Ronnie's theory—Barry is like an overcharged battery."
"Overcharged battery?" Ripper frowned. Metahuman physiology was still a new concept for him after all. "And that would translate to what exactly?"
"They blocked his power for how long? Eight? Ten years when he was in prison?" the scarred speedster snorted. "The speedforce was not made to be constrained. It accumulated inside him all those years, constrained like a ticking bomb without an outlet to be released, so when he snapped, and the second lightning hit him, it multiplied and expanded."
There was a pregnant silence as Ripper tried to digest that information.
"One body couldn't hold that much energy….," he finally concluded, having witnessed first-hand one of his doppelganger's episodes—when the Flash seemed to be stuck in a murderous trance. "It drove him crazy."
Ripper remembered his last visit there, when he attended to the Flash after the man collapsed and writhed in pain, only to meet the dilated unfocused pupils of the eyes so similar like the ones he saw in the mirror every morning. He was then completely stunned in horror upon seeing the black lightnings in those eyes as the Flash murmured on and on of not wanting to be hurt anymore before flashing away—it then took a combined effort of Savitar, Killer Frost, Deathstorm and a horde of metahumans that he didn't personally know to stop the Flash's murderous rampage.
He honestly thought that the rampage was a one-time thing.
But apparently it has gotten worst, along with the Flash's worsening paranoia and continuous nightmares, if Savitar's rant was any indicator, those murderous episodes have become more and more frequent as the Flash continuously buzzed in high-scale energy.
Overcharged battery indeed.
And Killer Frost discouraged his visits to that Earth ever since, as a precaution for Ripper's own safety. It was too dangerous for non-powered human to stand near the Flash when they have no idea if he was going to snap and got caught in that trance again.
It didn't stop Savitar from calling or visiting him on his Earth to vent about the Flash though.
Not that he was complaining. Savitar was a perfect partner-in-crime.
"Should I try to infiltrate Team Frost?" Ripper pondered out loud, glancing at his scarred doppelganger to see if his words invoked any reaction. There was a slight interested arch of Savitar's brow, so he shrugged and sipped on his coffee, "Dr. Wells created the metahumans, he might notice something that we missed."
Savitar snorted, his voice was a lazy drawl when he spoke;
"Ripper, you're their arch nemesis."
Ripper flashed his teeth in a taunting grin. "They didn't know that," he hummed, placing his cup down and leant over his chair, getting into Savitar's personal space.
The scarred speedster grimaced.
"I mean, who would've thought that the poor Dr. Allen…," Ripper started, mocking a sad broken voice, "…who lost his mother at such young age, abandoned by his father when he just stepped into adulthood, whose girlfriend just recently being brutally murdered," he huffed sardonically, "…who developed the cure for cancer, who read to sick children and is everyone's favourite professor in CCU…," he murmured, eyes glinted dangerously as he leant even closer to the speedster, trying to invoke more than the uncomfortable grimace on the other man's face, but to no avail, Savitar didn't yield. "…. Who would've thought that such perfect citizen is actually the infamous Scarlet Ripper?" he barked out an amused laugh, remembering Caitlin's shy smile and assuring words earlier. "Not them," he shook his head mockingly, "…Not our heroes."
Savitar's lips curled to a grin. "Keep your enemies close, huh?"
Ripper's grin mirrored the one on the speedster's face. He reached a hand to touch the twisted burnt skin on the right half of Savitar's face, tracing his thumb over the ugly ridges of the scar in a slow caressing motion until the speedster's mismatched eyes slid close, a desolate sigh escaped his lips.
Ripper wondered if Savitar even knew that he had an obvious tell. That he was so easily weakened with gentle physical touch on his scarred body. It was so easy to get Savitar pliant and listening. Touch the right spot, and he would be pleased enough to pay attention to you.
So easy…
"You know…," he started, letting his words hanged until Savitar's eyes fluttered open again. "You're stressed over Barry's condition," he murmured, pressing just slightly over the embossed vein on the speedster's temple, but it was enough to invoke a soft moan from the man.
Too much stress could make even the most stubborn speedster moaned to a simple head massage.
"I'm not worrying over that old man…," Savitar murmured, almost looking like he couldn't focus with the way he was leaning towards Ripper's fingers that were massaging his temple. "It is just annoying that they would call me whenever he snapped. It ruined my sleep schedule."
Ripper rolled his eyes but said nothing.
"It has been almost two weeks since I killed Iris. I'm nearing my next deadline," he smirked, tilting his head, his expression was sardonic and prompting. "Want to accompany me terrorize this city?"
Savitar gave him a lazy half-smirk, the gleam in his mismatched eyes were almost teasing as he drawled;
"Only if you pay for dinner."
Ripper rolled his eyes again, this time with a scowl.
"I'm not taking you out on a date, Savvi."
"Aw, come on."
Tonight's patrol was great, even with Iris' absence in the cortex.
It was just Cold and Frost who were out patrolling the city tonight, since Lisa have a morning shift tomorrow while stayed at home for a private dinner with his daughter, thus leaving Cisco handling the cortex alone. It seemed like a good night—no signs of Scarlet Ripper, no rogue metahumans on the loose and no fire that demanded instant attention. They did stop a few muggings and one domestic violence, but otherwise, it could be considered a peaceful night.
Or so they thought.
"Frosty, I think Scarlet brought a date."
Frost jerked her head up upon hearing that, sending a kick to the mugger's stomach and handcuffed him with her ice as she whipped around to the terrified elderly couple she just rescued. She waved them away, urging the couple to get out of the dark alley before turning to the opposite way and broke to a run, one hand pressing up to her comms as she hissed back;
"That's impossible. Scarlet Ripper worked alone."
"Nuh-uh. He brought a date," came the lazy drawl from her comm. "A speedster."
"Dude, what? Speedster? Is it Zoom?" That was Cisco, spluttering in panic.
"We turned Zoom to shaved ice last year, Ramon."
"Boys," Frost hissed when she heard the beginning of Cisco's retort, creating an ice slide to rush towards the blinking dot of the older vigilante. "Cisco, shut up. And Cold, do not engage them. Speedsters are bad news."
"Why the hell do you think I'm here waiting for you?"
Frost rolled her eyes. "Are there any civilian around?"
"Not that I can see…," Cold murmured, his voice trailed softer before the comms crackled in statics and his distorted voice yelled back at her. "Wait, fall back. Fall back. This is a tra—"
Frost's blood ran cold when she heard scuffles from Cold's end.
"Cold? Cold? COLD?!" she yelled to the comms, frantic and panicked, before her eyes flashed brown for a split second as she tried again, "Len?"
"Poor Lenny is currently out of commission."
It wasn't her comrade's lazy drawl than answered her.
Frost's eyes turned white again, a growl ripped from her throat. "Ripper…."
"Nah, he is busy too. I'm his date."
Frost briefly heard an annoyed snort from the other end before it was followed with the muffled mutter from the now familiar altered voice through the comms;
"I'm still not paying your dinner."
"Aw, Ripper, come on."
"Nope."
Frost held back the urge to yell at the comms as the clear vibrating voice of the speedster and the muffled altered voice of Scarlet Ripper went back and forth, arguing playfully about dinner. She wanted to yell at them. This nonchalant argument over who paid for dinner? It was an insult. How dare they looked down on her like this. Cisco had sent Cold's coordinate to her scouter—the readings on the sleek translucent blue glass of her right eye told her that Cold was still alive, but barely. The older man's vitals were dropping, his blood pressure was decreasing while his heartbeats increased—
Class 3 haemorrhage, Caitlin provided at the back of her head, worried. We need to hurry, Frost.
I know, Frost bit back, agitated now. They were so close to his location now. Lenny wouldn't die, Cait. I promise.
I trust you, Caitlin's voice was so soft, echoing in her mind before she faded into their shared sub-conscious, giving Frost the chance to fully concentrate on the fight.
She leapt to a graceful landing in the middle of the dark alleyway, surprised to see that the speedster was already waiting for her.
"Ah, about time."
Frost glared at the blurred silhouette of the unknown speedster. What a cocky bastard. He didn't even wear any masks to conceal his identity, but merely vibrated himself till all that Frost could see was the blur of colour and his ill-looking crackles of red-yellow lightnings. He had his arms spread, as if welcoming her, his vibrating voice was alluringly smooth and taunting;
"I'm getting bored," the speedster flashed to directly stand in front of her. He was still vibrating, but his voice was clearer when he mock-whined, "Entertain me, Caitlin."
Frost gaped at him.
"What's the matter, Caitlin?" he mocked, his vibrating voice thrummed with laughter. "You're frozen in shock."
Frost…ice his ass, Caitlin growled from the depth of her mind—snapping Frost out of her shocked stupor—for once being the violent one between the two of them.
Frost nodded and blasted an ice directly to his chest.
"Not fast enough, Cait," the speedster laughed, evading each ice blast that she directed at him. He kept zipping around—up and down left and right and across the grimy walls of the buildings around them, mocking her every time she failed to hit him.
He didn't attempt to attack her, only running and evading, making it seemed like a game between the two of them. He targeted her blind spot, appearing behind her—his lips were surprisingly soft when he kissed her cheek—only to cackle maniacally when the sharp slab of ice she intended for his vibrating blurred body only hit the empty air. Frost was getting agitated for each second that passed, as he continued mocking her, running and evading but only to appear out of nowhere to kiss her cheek or pat her head—she honestly felt degraded, like he was treating her like a child.
It was worst than if she was actually hurt from his attacks.
Her ego was severely wounded.
"Frost!" Cisco's sudden voice from her comms halted her continuous blast of ice. "Cold's vitals!"
It was then she realised his true intention. He was distracting her from running to aid her comrade.
"That's enough."
Though, before she could even aim a wrathful blast of ice towards the speedster, the modulated voice of Scarlet Ripper echoed in the dark alleyway as he finally straightened from his crouch, and only then did Frost finally notice that the serial killer was taking advantage on the distraction the speedster had provided.
He was crouching over Cold's bloodied body.
"Cold!" she yelled, hoping to see at least a sign of life from her friend but to no avail, there was no respond.
There was a pool of blood underneath the older man's body, his breathing was quick and ragged—he had lost too much blood that Frost knew it was a miracle that he was still conscious. Frost saw the glint of a knife disappearing into Ripper's scarlet trench coat, the serial killer tilted his head in her direction, dirty blonde hair swept over his eyes due to the movement, a smirk grew on his face as if he was mocking her. The shadow fell onto his masked face, through Frost could still see the outline of his manic grin, the golden cross of his chain earring gleamed in the dark.
Frost wasn't even religious, but it still pissed her off on how nonchalantly he mocked a symbol of religion by wearing it while committing his heinous crimes.
"Aww, but I wanna play," the speedster mock-whined again, still a blur, even though he has adopted a casual position sitting on the ledge of the fire escape.
"No. Time for both of us to go home, speedy."
"You're no fun."
"I've got what I wanted," The Scarlet Ripper huffed and threw a dagger in the direction of the speedster's blurring head.
Needless to say, that the dagger vanished mid-air and the speedster was suddenly behind Ripper, pressing the tip of the dagger against the serial killer's neck, a trickle of blood dripped down his neck.
"Know your place, Ripper."
Ripper wasn't even fazed. "Kill me and you lose half your chance to heal him."
Frost barely able to do anything when the speedster let out a low irritated growl before the two of them disappeared from her sight, vanishing in the trails of lightning. She stared in disbelief at the now empty alley before Cisco's and Caitlin's urgent voices from both her comms and her subconscious had her rushing towards Cold. The man was barely conscious, eyes closed and breathing ragged as he drowned in his own blood. There were multiple incisions on his body—deliberately inflicted wounds that targeted his major arteries, causing him to bleed to death. Frost tried to stop the bleeding, applying pressure on his wounds but Cold's vitals continued to drop, heading to a point of no return.
"Cisco, where is the nearest hospital?!"
"Central General Hospital is a couple blocks away…," the scientist paused, before he started shouting to her ear. "Gurl, you can't bring him to a hospital! It'll expose our operation."
"To hell with our operation!"
"But—"
"Len do not have superhealing, Cisco!"
"It'll expose Team Frost!"
Frost was so close to blow her own top.
"HE NEEDS A MOTHERFUCKING SURGERY, CISCO!"
Cisco went silent after that. There were a few seconds of silence as Frost tried to carry Cold in her arms, struggling to create an ice slide while balancing the man—super strength wasn't exactly gifted to her—only to blink in shock upon hearing the calm gentle voice at the other end of her comms.
"Frost?"
"Dr. Wells?"
She wasn't expecting him to be there. He was supposedly spending tonight with his daughter as it was the anniversary of his wife's death. Though, Frost didn't have time to question him, she honestly appreciated his calm, wise input in this time of desperate needs. Frost's eyes turned to warm brown as tears fell down her cheeks when Cold started to lose consciousness in her arms, his breathing slowed down, heartbeats getting too slow to be safe.
No. She can't lose another friend.
She had sworn to protect her remaining friends—to not fail them like she failed Iris.
"Frost, Caitlin," Dr. Wells spoke all too softly, as if he knew of Caitlin's inner turmoil. "Calm down, okay? We're going to save Len. He is going to be fine."
Caitlin nodded even though she knew that there was no way for him to see her.
"We have to break our promise to Iris," the older man murmured, and Caitlin felt Frost tried to regain control again. She submitted, allowing her eyes to shift colour again when Wells added, "he is the best in the nation. He is our best hope to save Len."
"Barry," Frost said stiffly, knowing full well where the old scientist was heading. The man was their best bet, and their location wasn't far from the surgeon's permanent residence anyway, just a block away. "I'm on my way."
She ignored the strain on her arms, cradling Cold close to her chest as she made her way to his penthouse. She wasn't going to fail again. Not now. Not after Iris. She could barely face Joe during Iris' funeral, how could she face Lisa if anything happened to Len? At least Joe still have Wally. The Snart siblings only have each other.
No. She couldn't let Len died too.
Thus, politeness be damned when she broke into his house, crashing through the first window she thought could fit the both of them. She ended up in his bathroom, and somehow managed to minimize the shattering glass using her ice while shielding Cold from any more injuries.
"What the fu—?"
Barry's face when they crashed into his bathroom while he was mid-shaving was hilariously candid.
Though, Frost had to wince when she saw the trickle of blood down the man's neck, her unannounced entrance had surely made him nicked his own neck. Fearing for the fading heartbeats of her injured friend, Frost retreated, letting the ice in her veins receded to her heart as her hair slowly turned from white to mahogany, her eyes flashed warm brown again.
She slowly looked up, cradling Cold tighter to her chest as she hoped and prayed that Barry wouldn't be too mad over his ruined house and would still be willing to help them.
"Please save my friend," she begged, voice broken.
It only took Barry one glance towards Cold for him to shift into surgeon mode. He was suddenly moving, rinsing the remaining foam off from his neck and jaw and it shouldn't surprise Caitlin that he had disinfectant right there in his medical cabinet. In one swift movement, he pushed all of his toiletries off the counter, snapping on a latex glove on before she could even blink and he had Cold spread out on the counter in a matter of seconds.
She watched in awe. Such calmness, even amid the shock of her surprise entrance.
"Savvi!" he yelled to the door, and Caitlin suddenly remembered from their conversation earlier of the day that his 'outside of domain' brother had broken into his house.
Caitlin's gaze fell onto her own body. Her secret identity!
She was still in Frost's costume after all.
He quirked a little smile in her direction and used one hand to throw an oversized shirt at her. "Change," he instructed, turning his back on her, his eyes were focused on stabilizing her friend. "Hurry!"
She was stashing her chemically compressed costume into her necklace when the bathroom door was slowly slid open and someone hesitantly peeked in.
Something twisted in her chest.
Oh, his brother seemed so pure.
The young man didn't seem like he was any older or younger than Barry himself, but the way he shyly peeked into the bloodied bathroom made him looked years younger than Barry. Perhaps it has something to do with the way he was constantly avoiding eye contact with her, looking away bashfully when she tried to meet his gaze, or to the way half of his face was burnt beyond repair and his mismatched eyes widened upon witnessing the scene in front of him. The young man trembled, his light chestnut hair fell over his mismatched eyes, arms came up to hug himself as he watched Barry worked, seeming like he wanted to bolt away from the scene but unable to because his brother needed his aid.
"I need my kit. And more towels," Barry instructed without even looking at his brother, and it amused Caitlin, the way the mismatched eyes lowered as he nodded and ran away, only to return with Barry's bag and a bunch of towels not a minute after that.
Damn, the kid was fast.
"Caitlin," Barry addressed her then, glancing just briefly at her as he nodded in the direction of the scarred young man who was half-hiding behind the door. "Go with him. I'll save your friend."
She was hesitant at first, but he urged her on.
"Go," he said, turning his attention back to Len. "You're no help to me when you're in shock yourself," he murmured, eyes completely on the wounds he was working on. "Savvi, get her some tea or anything."
With that, he literally kicked her out of the bathroom and slammed the door in her face, leaving her in the dimness of his hallway with the scarred young man—whom she assumed as his younger brother. The young man tugged lightly on her sleeves, looking away bashfully when she looked up at him as he led her to the living room. He left her alone after that, disappearing into the kitchen, before returning with two mugs of tea and a plate of cookies that he balanced in his hands. He was silent, almost muted when he placed a mug in front of her and retreated to the far end of the couch opposite to her, clutching his own mug like his life was depending on it, all the while curling himself up against one of the gigantic plush cushion, hiding the scarred half of his face behind the cushion as if he was ashamed to show his face to Caitlin.
Caitlin's heart twisted in pity at that sight.
What a poor boy.
She wanted to talk to him, but he continued to hide his marred face behind the cushion, shaking and tensing up when she tried to sit beside him, only relaxing when Caitlin retreated to the opposite sofa. They remained in silence for what it felt for hours, and by the time Barry stepped into the living room, the first light has emerged far at the horizon.
He gave her a tired smile but didn't say anything as he strode to his brother, whom to her surprise, was asleep curled up against the cushion—he was hiding his face too much that Caitlin didn't notice when he fell asleep. Barry gave her an exasperated smile when the scarred young man didn't wake up even after Barry shook his shoulders a few times. She smiled back, her smile grew fonder when Barry effortless carried him away—presumably to the bedroom so that he could get proper sleep.
Caitlin was itching to peek into the bathroom to see how Len was doing but she restrained herself from doing so.
She had been imposing way too much on Barry to display such rudeness to his hospitality.
The surgeon returned with a tired lag in his steps, and bloodshot eyes, although his smile was warm and charming as ever. He let out a huge yawn, invoking a guilty wince from Caitlin when his exhaustion showed in his lagging steps, slouched shoulders, tired bloodshot eyes and disheveled chestnut hair—but he remained smiling when he sat across her.
"Your friend is stable," he said through a huge yawn and rubbed his eyes gingerly, "…although he needs more blood transfusion and close monitoring for a few more weeks," he smiled, yawning again, "…but he is going to be fine after lots of rest."
Caitlin released the breath of relief she didn't know she was holding. "Thank you, Barry."
Barry shrugged, giving her that gentle smile again that made Caitlin knew exactly why Iris had fallen for this man.
His tired gaze met her eyes, and she knew that he was waiting for an explanation. It wasn't every day the city's resident hero crashed into your house begging you to fix her injured friend after all. He continued staring, not even showing any sign of perplexation or shock—just curiosity and awe in those green eyes—when Caitlin woke Frost up, summoning her vigilante counterpart so that they could explain this together. Her eyes remained warm brown even though her hair had turned frosty white when she started talking;
"My name is Caitlin Snow," she exhaled, tentatively raising her gaze to meet his curious eyes. "And I'm the coldest woman alive," she waited for him to comment, but he remained silent, giving her room to talk without interruptions. She exhaled again, feeling guilty for betraying Iris like this—her best friend had tried her best to keep Barry out of this loop, but she ruined the effort literally the day of her funeral. "To the outside world, I'm just an ordinary doctor, but secretly, along with my friends at Starlabs, I fight crimes as—"
"The Frost," he murmured, his lips curled to a genuine smile that crinkled his eyes. "It's a pleasure to know the face behind the city's favourite superhero."
He said that so earnestly and calmly that Caitlin couldn't stop the blush from rising to her cheeks.
Frost on the other hand, rolled her eyes at the depth of her mind. So much for him being off limits….
Frost.
I'm just saying…He is way too calm and accepting when we literally crashed into his house uninvited.
He is just being kind. Without him, Len would have died.
Sure, sure, Caity. Whatever floats your iceberg.
Caitlin sent a mental pout to Frost and shifted her attention back to Barry. Then, the story spilled. She told him about how the particle accelerator explosion had changed her and so many others, and how she and Team Frost had decided to protect the city ever since—all the while avoiding any mention of Iris and Joe, opting for general term of 'Team Frost' to refer to them. Throughout her storytelling, he was resting the side of his face on his palm, his elbow rested on his knee—looking both intrigued and halfway to sleep at the same time. Caitlin felt a tug of guilt upon remembering that she had costed him his rest time when she begged for his help. He didn't complain though, but instead simply offered to brew coffee for her once she was done with her story, specifically asking her preference of her coffee—the perfect gentleman he was.
When he handed her coffee to her, he finally asked the question that she dreaded the most.
"Iris knew about this, didn't she?"
Caitlin swallowed too quickly on the hot coffee, not wanting to answer the question.
They all knew that the source of their argument that night was because of Iris' involvement with Team Frost and his own busy schedule made it hard for the couple to be together. Iris always ditched Barry in the middle of a date so that she could monitor the cortex for Frost, despite him taking the effort to make room in his forever busy schedule for their date—so it was reasonable for Caitlin to blame herself for the strain in the couple's relationship. Swallowing back the bile at the back of her throat, Caitlin murmured softly;
"She doesn't want to put your life in danger, Barry."
"But it's okay to put hers in danger?"
Caitlin has no answer for that.
"All these times I thought she didn't care about me…," he murmured, shaking his head, regret was thick in his voice. "All these times she ditched me without reasons…," he let out a deep sigh, avoiding meeting her gaze completely, "…it was to save the city."
Caitlin felt really, really guilty.
Thus, without thinking, she placed her hand on his arm, clutching tightly as she blurted out;
"Join us."
He blinked blankly.
"Join us. In her stead. Help us protect the city that she loved. Help us bring her murderer to justice."
Barry cocked an eyebrow, his gaze fixed on her warm brown eyes. She tightened her grip on his arm, pressing a bit more;
"Your expertise would be a great help to us. Please, join us."
Barry simply smiled at her words.
"I'll think about it when my head doesn't feel like it is stuffed with cotton, okay?"
Caitlin broke to a tiny excited grin, nodding eagerly.
He then tipped his head slightly, eyes hooded in exhaustion when he handed her a set of his clothes she didn't notice he had brought. She looked up at him, confused.
"Iris' clothes were at our old apartment. You'll have to make do with my clothes."
She continued staring at him, still confused above all.
He quirked a tired amused smile.
"It has been a long night for us both. You can crash in my guest's room. Up the stairs, third door to your right," he smiled, cradling his coffee tightly to his chest even though he looked like he was going to pass out right there. "I've transferred your friend at the room next to yours, so if you want to check on him, feel free to do so," he added, placing his mug away as he stretched and let out a huge yawn. "I'm calling in sick anyway."
Caitlin watched the way his exhaustion seemed to affect his movement and quickly dished out apologies;
"Barry, I'm sorry—"
"A superhero needs her sleep," he cut off her words, giving her a sleepy wink and brushed her hair back.
Caitlin had never flushed that pink before.
A/N: This Barry Allen is manipulative AF, don't you think so? And Savitar is enjoying his fake role waaay too much.
Read and review, everyone! I love hearing your thoughts!
