A/N: Un-betaed. Read at your own risk.


"Will you take me as your apprentice?"

Emmy dropped the scalpel she was holding. Oh-uh, this was not in her escape plan.

"Why?"

At least Ripper has the sense to ask the real question that Emmy wished she could have screamed at her brother.

Why?

"I think you're inspiring."

It horrified her to hear the genuine awe in her brother's tone.

"Want to be like you," his voice sounded much younger in Emmy's head, the far-fetched image of a tiny young boy clinging to her skirts floated into her mind.

Rod, why?

Emmy dared herself to peek around the walls, only to regret it right the next instance. A shiver wreaked down her body upon seeing the familiar way Rod was clinging to Ripper. It brought back flashbacks of their childhood—something that was not comforting at all in this situation.

Probability of Rod trying to stall some time for their escape was dwindling to single digit.

Brother, why?

Ripper pursed his lips into a tight thin line, as if he was contemplating the pros and cons of having someone idolizing him the way Rod did.

"I'm an insane serial killer with horrible fashion sense and awkward tendency of necrophilia."

It was weird to hear Ripper admit that with casual thoughtful voice, but Emmy wholeheartedly agreed.

She treaded closer for a better view and prayed hard that her baby brother would come to his senses so that they could escape from this place together. She didn't have the heart to escape alone. No matter how much Rod has changed from the ordeal Lucy put them through, she would never leave her own brother behind.

To her growing horror, Rod's lips curved to a smirk as he reached out a finger to poke at Ripper's cheek, humming playfully;

"You have no idea what a great service you have done to us by killing Lucy, don't you?"

Emmy didn't have any argument for that, because admittedly, she did feel a bit safer and relieved when she heard the hushed whispers linking the news of Lucy's disappearance and Scarlet Ripper's reappearance. News travelled faster through the gossip mills and nosy hospital staffs. A lot of people were already convinced that Lucy was the next victim, especially after all the chaos and deaths Ripper's ice witch partner has caused.

The chaos was very much like the prelude to the killer's return from his months of hiatus.

And Emmy did feel bad for having a sense of safety and security over Lucy's misfortune, but her heart didn't lie—a part of her was glad that Ripper killed Lucy.

I'm a horrible person, she whimpered, her voice came out as soft incoherent mewls. Horrible, horrible, horrible…

She almost jumped when Ripper's rich chuckle floated through the sterile air of the room.

"Damn kid, you're one of a kind," the man muttered, sounding both amused and awed.

"Is that a 'yes' to my enrolment into School of Scarlet Ripper?"

It took a complete ten seconds for the serial killer to erupt into a full blown genuine laughter.

"I don't think you'll accept a 'no', kiddo," the soft sigh has a tint of fondness in it.

Emmy didn't waste any time to beat a hasty retreat. She kept her back to the walls, wide eyes fixed on the pathway leading to the source of the warm laughter as she frantically scrambled towards the much warmer living room.

Insane. Rod has fully embraced insanity.

She knew that her brother was not the same ever since he woke up from the surgery. Neither of them was the same. She was mute and broken—jumpy and terrified of her own shadows—while her poor little brother seemed to gain a dark shadow of his own—talking in biting sarcasm and genuinely hating on everything. Rod seemed to only tolerate her presence and as much as Emmy appreciated that, she wanted her bright baby brother back.

That seemed like a far-fetched dream now.

She reached the lavish hallway stumbling on her own shaky legs and tears streaking down her cheeks. Wild and frantic eyes sought for an escape, noting that the sliding door and the balcony was out of the options because if the skyline was any indicator, they were pretty high up. The door was out of the list too, because she had heard the disembodied feminine voice chatting with the red speedster before he left, and it would be stupid of her to alert whatever futuristic security system that Ripper has installed.

There was no escape.

She could have risked the trash chute, but she might end up in an incinerator and that didn't sound nice at all.

Then, there was a soft 'beep' and the door clicked open.

Should she risk storming out?

"Welcome, milord," the invisible female voice hummed; the tone was affectionately teasing that it made Emmy wondered why she hasn't heard of this kind of technology before. "Has your sulking been fruitful?"

There was a beat of silence, as if the visitor was stunned right in front of the unlocked door.

"For fuck's sake, Gideon, you're insufferable."

Okay, that sounded like the speedster and Emmy definitely could not escape while he was at the door.

Thus, she dashed towards the closest door, which proven to be some sort of coat closet that could fit her comfortably since it only has three meagre coats inside. Her gaze landed on the sleek red trench coat—the most striking garment in the dark—and she suddenly felt the nervousness and anxiety crept up to her chest again. She has no hiding place if someone opened the door. Inhaling as deeply and as silently as she could, she focused on the sound of soft footsteps walking into the area, the incoherent grumbling of the speedster and the clear beeping of the door locking itself again.

The footsteps stopped somewhere that sounded too close to be safe.

Please do not open the door, please do not open the door, please please please…..

"I do not comprehend your distaste, Lord Savitar," the disembodied voice spoke again, with an odd tinge of laughter in her voice. "I think my presence is pleasant and comforting, milord."

There was an annoyed groan. "You should not have this kind of humour. It's irritating."

The disembodied voice giggled. "I'm hilarious."

"No, you're not, you sadistic AI," the speedster grumbled, sounding too close for comfort that Emmy scooted backwards until she has basically flattened herself at the very corner of the closet, trying to hide her body behind the red coat. "Where the hell is Rip?"

"He is currently discussing curriculum with his new apprentice."

There was a long silence that made Emmy almost sympathised with the (probably) confused speedster.

"What the fuck," the speedster's voice was loud, as if he was directly outside the closet door—so close that Emmy could note the scratchy husky tinge of his voice that sounded a bit different from the one that kidnapped her. "I thought Barry's insanity is not contagious."

"Recent evidences showed that insanity is indeed contagious, milord."

"Stop it. Don't call me that."

"Oh, my apologies, Your Highness."

"For fuck's sake….," Savitar groaned, and Emmy almost squeaked when there was a sudden 'thud' against the door as if something was banged against the solid wood. "You're as insufferable as him."

"I'm his lovely daughter."

"What."

"And I have specific orders to annoy you once you returned."

"Fucking hell, Gideon."

Emmy ended up with a bunch of red fabric in her fists when the second loud thud to the door made her jumpy nerves scrambled to grasp something for comfort. It was by the chance of luck that the speedster hasn't busted the door with that kick, but she was still anxious nevertheless. The sturdy softness in her hands had her dazed for a moment, confused at the lack of expected scent of blood on the fabric. The scent was oddly comforting—a mix of the familiar fresh fragrance of the softener her mother often used on their laundry and that little tinge of vanilla and spice that reminded her of her late father. The familiarity comforted her jumpy nerves, despite the fact that this was probably the very same coat that Ripper wore every time he left his victims all around the city.

She clung to the coat like she would to her mother's waist, seeking comfort in the old memories of helping her mother doing laundry in their old ragged apartment—long before her father passed away and her mother remarry. It felt like a safe space for her, and the next thing she knew was that she has burrowed herself in the coat, escape plan floated away from her thoughts as her hands found the familiar cold of metallic cross in one of the pockets.

She had one like this one too. The exact same size, pattern and engravings—like the crosses were twins from the same set—and it was resting against her chest, a lovely golden pendant with little red rubies.

She clasped the golden cross tight in her grip, trying to remember the prayers her grandmother taught her long time ago, but it was hard to recall, since she hasn't practiced it ever since Grandmama passed away.

Thus, she sought comfort in the memories the jewellery reminded her. Holding the wrinkled hands of Grandmama as they gazed upon the first snow. Curling up against her father, inhaling the spices and the delicious smell of the bread he baked all day long—the metallic cold was a constant presence above his heartbeats. Safe space. It was safe space.

Safe space.

Emmy ended up burrowing herself under the coat till all that was visible was her eyes and the top of her head, pretending that this was her father's old tattered coat, craving the comfort of the man long dead.

She lost track of the time she spent there, listening to the loud conversations outside as she tried to find a window of escape. It sounded oddly domestic out there. Ripper sounded like a fussy mom as the scent of fresh baked goods wafted through the air, his clear voice sternly ordering his guest around. There were sounds of clanking, like someone was protesting against some poor set of kitchrn utensils, but there was laughter too—and to her bafflement, the laughter sounded like her own brother.

It was so surreal that she was half-convinced that this was an illusion.

This must be a dream, she thought to herself, feeling comfortably warm underneath the coat as the noises outside slowly toned down to soft buzz.

Everything will be okay once I wake.

Though, the next thing she knew, her groggy body jolted up from the sudden pour of light as the door was abruptly opened. She blinked the sleep away and let out a squeak upon noticing that Ripper was there—the man was looking down at her with a deep frown on his face. He was wearing a comfy white pyjama, and with the intensity of the artificial glow of the lights behind him, he looked like what one would see at the gates of heavens—all white and bright as opposed to the darkness of the closet.

"Emmy," he called softly.

She looked up to meet his unmasked face, whimpering at the shadows of wrinkled eyes of the exact same shade of green that overlaid his youthful ones. She recognized this undisguised face. She has seen that face on every sort of medias and even her own textbooks before, but never she was able to sense the familiarity of the warm gaze.

A soft whine tore out of her sore throat upon noticing that even his smile was familiar—gentle and kind.

Papa.

She whimpered again, curling herself even more against the walls.

"I'd appreciate it if you don't spend the night hiding in my closet, Emmy…," he sighed, sounding very much like an exasperated parent. "You have been in there for hours."

You knew? She opened her mouth to ask, but only strangled noise came out of her throat.

It didn't seem like her muteness was a bother to him. Instead, he messed with his own fluffed out hair, lips grew to an assuring smile as he came down to her current height. "I just thought that you might need the space," his shoulders moved in a quick shrug, the smile twisted to a somewhat stern yet concerned one. "But I think we should put a limit to that. You haven't eaten anything, and it would be a disgrace of me to display such bad hospitality to my guests."

He smiled at her, drawing her into his deceit with the sincere warmth of his gaze.

Emmy whimpered and backed away, flinching from his outreached hand.

This was a dangerous man with an established body count. Why did he not obey the normal depiction of serial killer that has ever existed in the universe? Serial killers weren't supposed to look like angels at the gates of heaven, nor were they supposed to smell like baked goods and has the smile of a loving patient father.

This is wrong, she thought, backing away even more as if she wanted to be a part of the wall.

He inhaled a deep breath and gave her a tentative smile.

"May I sit beside you?"

She squeaked at his tentative query, wondering why he would even be bothered to ask. She was his prisoner, he had her abducted for a reason, therefore there is no needs for him to be considerate of her comfort. Her gaze wandered up and down the length of his body in wariness, still unsure of his actual intentions.

Her fear must have been palpable because he scooted backwards and gave her more space, opting to sit on the floor just outside the closet, his back was resting against the wood of the open door.

"Your sister last wish was for me to see through your recovery," he remarked, staring at the ceiling instead of meeting her gaze. "She is sorry for what she has done to you."

She shifted a bit to gain more distance, wanting to stay as far away as possible from him…only to halt mid-crawl. Emmy blinked furiously, wanting to make sure that she wasn't imagining anything. Indeed, there was glossy sheen of regret over his eyes, not quite enough to be tears, but just enough to display remorse. The sorrow in his expression mirrored her own emotion, and she was suddenly wishing for her lost voice to come back.

She desperately wanted to know why the supposed insane serial killer showed sorrow for his own victims.

"She is really sorry," he chuckled, voice a bit higher and cracked now. "But apology and regret couldn't break through the barrier of death."

Emmy scowled, wanting to point out that he was the one putting that barrier between Lucy and them.

"Don't know if apologies would ever be enough…," he snorted, huffing a bitter laugh. "No matter how kind and forgiving sister is…"

Emmy frowned. He was wrong.

There was never any hesitance of Emmy's part that she would accept Lucy's apology if Lucy ever apologise.

Rod might be a more vengeful sibling between the both of them, but Emmy was more forgiving and hopeful. She loved Lucy, regardless of the fear she has for the younger girl. No matter how cruel and horrible Lucy was to her, Emmy still has this thin thread of hope that they could be actual loving sisters sometime in the future. She wanted to get along with Lucy, always wanting a sister of her own since sometimes Rod couldn't relate with her female dilemmas no matter how hard he tried.

Ripper shouldn't even assume that Emmy would never forgive Lucy—

"Not when these hands caused so much pain, y'know?"

Emmy halted her voiceless mental tirade. Ripper was staring at his own hands, and those hands were shaking, trembling so violently. She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to understand the odd regretful expression on his face.

This didn't match up at all. She has this sinking suspicion that he wasn't even talking about Lucy.

She didn't realise that she has crawled to sit beside him until it was too late to retreat. It was weird. The sense of familiarity that drawn her to him was strange, but her confused mind was on auto-pilot mode. His wrist was warm in her grip, and the tremble of his hand grew stronger when she placed the golden cross on his palm.

It did look like a matching set—his earring and her pendant. Must be from the same craftsman.

He quirked a tiny smile at her, the chain slipped through his fingers as he pressed the cross to his forehead, eyes fluttered close and a sigh slipped past his lips, as if the thing brought a sense of comfort to him.

She wondered if he was religious despite the heinous crimes he committed.

"This once belonged to my great-grandmother," he hummed, eyes still closed, his lips pressed gently over the small ruby. "Been in the family since the 18th century. Supposed to be passed from daughter to daughter," he opened his eyes and quirked a half-hearted smirk in her direction. "I break the tradition."

So, sentimentality it was then.

"Take it, my dear. Grandmama would be happy to know that my daughter will resume the tradition."

Emmy couldn't help the tiny smile that emerged on her face. Ripper needed a daughter to resume the tradition he broke. Just like Papa.

"Hmm?" He inquired, one eyebrow arched, his gaze fell on Emmy's hand that was tugging on his sleeves.

Emmy flushed light pink. His presence was deceivingly soothing, catching her off-guard and causing her body to move on its own. It was like how she always behaved around Rod. Her mind and body were tuned to Rod's mood, therefore whenever her little brother was in distress, she always reacted before she could even think.

Weird that it worked the same to Ripper too.

Ripper was in distress, and Emmy's body instantly reacted. Her day couldn't get any weirder.

Emmy opened her mouth to speak, but only pathetic croaks escaped her lips. She whimpered in distaste, wincing when Ripper huffed a noiseless laughter. He then wordlessly and trustingly handed her his phone; the note application was already opened.

"I'll get you a notebook later," he smiled, nodding encouragingly at her.

She hesitated, wondering if she could contact the police or anyone without him noticing. She pretended to think of words to type, though her mind was frantically looking for any ways to tap that three emergency numbers, but it was of no use. His watchful gaze remained on her, therefore she reluctantly handed her last hope of escape back to him.

The smile that grew on his face was genuine when he read the note.

She hunched her shoulder when he ruffled her hair, long fingers gently threaded through her hair, a reminisce on the good old days whenever her father spent his lunch break braiding her hair. She could never forget the lingering scent of vanilla and spice that the rough hands left on her hair back then.

His hands didn't leave the same scent, but the lingering warmth was similar.

"Yeah, I'd love a daughter too."


Steve was on self-imposed guard duty.

The coffee break with Snow was pleasant and delightful—a soothing event in the midst of today's chaos—and Team Frost was generous enough to lend him the access of the living facilities in Starlabs since they were closer to the hospital than his hotel. He has accepted the offer with a grateful smile, feeling slightly bad when he betrayed Snow's trust and had JARVIS hijacked Starlabs system. It was a nerve-wrecking wait, because apparently their tech was on par with each other, but he managed to hook their surveillance with Starlab's satellite without alerting the geniuses on Team Frost.

He had showered, had a little nap to sooth the soreness from fighting the ice witch and spent a surprisingly not-awkward dinner with the team of heroes before he returned to the hospital. Team Frost felt pretty familiar to him. The Snart siblings reminded him of the unholy combo of Stark and Romanov, while Dr. Wells and Banner would be a wonderful twitchy science duo if they were ever in the same room together. Cisco and Parker could have been geeky soul twins from different parents with all of the passion and mechanical techy-bullshit they seemed to sputter on minutely basis.

Such familiarity made Steve felt less of a stranger among the heroes' team.

Tough, he did feel that they were such a novice in this vigilante thing. The team has trustingly thanked him when he volunteered to watch over Dr. Allen while they went out on their regular patrol.

And they technically just knew him for not more than 24 hours.

It greatly concerned him that these trusting heroes were the protectors of the second craziest city in the nation. Sure, the criminals here weren't as batshit crazy as the ones in Gotham, and obsessive terrorists didn't resurface from the depth of the underworld to wreak havoc on weekly basis like it was in New York, but weird things happened in Central on daily basis. They shouldn't be this laidback and trusting.

One must always be on guard for the unexpected.

"On your left."

He almost jumped upon hearing that soft whisper, the warm blow of air to his neck almost made him yelp in the most undignified way. Almost. Thank god for his quick reflexes that saved him from being the centre of team's joke.

"You know what, Romanov…," he turned around and scowled at her. "That ain't cute."

She rolled her eyes, looking flat-out bored and unimpressed.

"Never in my job description it stated that I should be cute unless it was necessary to deceive the target to the bed of doom," she smirked, stepping just a bit closer into his personal space, the playful blow of her warm breath was a striking contrast of the cool air.

Steve scowled at her when he felt the additional light weight in his back pocket.

How the hell she moved that quick, he didn't want to know.

"Got anything?" he muttered instead, anxious to know her findings yet not wanting to remove himself from his guard duty to read whatever that was contained in the flashdrive in his back pocket. "You're taking too much time on this one."

Indeed, she did take far longer time on this particular investigation as compared to her previous records. How hard it could be to look into the life of an old neurologist?

It was pretty hard, apparently.

"Old doctor is a sneaky fucked-up scumbag. It took some time to dig out his dirty laundry from the depths of hell," she hummed, peering closer to the glass window. "But long story short, he is a horrible dad to his kids."

"So, Thawne is…?" Steve cocked an eyebrow, holding back a relieved breath.

"One of the unfortunate kids," she smirked light-heartedly, but there was murder in her eyes. "One of the few surviving mini-Allens."

Steve didn't like her wording at all.

"We ain't wrong," she shrugged and snorted, turning around to stare into the room again, eyes narrowed in concerned glare towards the prone figure of Steve's charge. "Old doc was trying to create utopian race," she shuddered, her arms tightened around her own torso. "His kids were the guinea pigs…be it this legal one or the ones that went under the radar."

"Shit."

"Language," she chided, clicking her tongue in an exaggerated disappointment.

"That ain't gonna go away soon, huh?" he sighed, turning around to look at the sleeping doctor again, the device in his back pocket suddenly felt heavier. "So, we shouldn't be worried of multiverse conflict?"

"Read the fucking files, Steve," she hummed, glancing up at him with an annoyed glare. "I didn't scour through the dark depths of underground network to give you a lecture on the same files I have gathered."

Steve scowled. "Why are you so horrible."

"Aw, Stevie. You flattered me."

He scowled at her taunting smirk but said nothing to retort. "Fucked up parent, huh?" he sighed instead, his gaze grew softer when it landed on the famous young doctor.

"That didn't even sum the whole thing up," she sniffed, arms crossed over her chest as she nodded towards the cot. "How's he?"

"Worst," Steve sighed, barely hiding the shudder of his massive frame. "When I arrived, the staffs were panicking because his temperature suddenly spiked."

"Ouch," she openly winced, but her facial expression didn't change. "How bad?"

"They could literally melt a marshmallow on his forehead with that temperature."

"Fuck," she cursed, eyes narrowed, and forehead creased in disbelief. "And dude is still alive?"

"Language," he chided, mirroring her own exaggerated act earlier.

However, before Romanov could assault him with that little taser thing she was so fond of (she was considering on it, he knew), their phones buzzed in the familiar important alert. Romanov casted a quick look around the area, confirming that the coast was clear first before she whipped out the sleek communication device. They cowered closer once the holographic projection came into view—their faces were identical expression of indifference, shoulders straight and alert in perfect trained discipline.

"Yo."

Steve's brows twitched in premonition of bad news once the ragged face of their self-appointed head of intelligence popped on the screen—Stark's dark eyes were squinted into narrow angry slits while his lips twisted in a scowl. Even the man's greeting was heavy of bitter sarcasm.

That was never a sign of good news.

"What's up, Tony?" Romanov asked before Steve could even open his mouth.

"He is back," Stark grumbled, voice dredged with exhaustion and pure irritation. "Fucking Ripper finally out of his vacation and made a comeback. And he really wants all the spotlights on him for his return," he added as a smaller screen popped up to display the gruesome statue made of flesh. "Son of a bitch."

Steve was grateful that he didn't eat too much during dinner because his dinner was trying to make a reappearance now. He wasn't easily queasy per se—he was still in the military after all—but people has limits. Sane people has limits on the amount of gore they could stand, so this sudden nausea was perfectly justified. Even Romanov was a bit green and she has the strongest stomach out of the whole division.

On a more positive note, they could take one case file off Bucky and Barton's checklist considering that one of their mark was right there at the main lobby of Central's Museum of Art. What a wonderful news. Now those two only have the missing siblings to track.

"Ten bucks that our creepy stalker duos are pretty peeved right now," Stark commented off-handedly, gesturing something at his side of the screen. "Out of context, I must say that Ripper would have a promising career as horror movie director."

"Not funny, Stark," Steve sighed, enlarging the crime scene picture for better scrutinizing.

It seemed like their suspicion of Lucy Britton being the latest addition in Scarlet Ripper's victim list was right. That was her all right, placed in the lobby of Central's Museum of Arts. The night guard has found her and instantly alerted CCPD. There was no report of any notes from the serial killer yet, but Steve couldn't help but feel like the arrangement of Lucy's corpse was oddly familiar.

It took a few minutes of ignoring Stark's rambling to find the exact memory he required.

"Ripper did his homework," he breathed out, remembering his visit to the art museum in Baltimore back during the small break of his academy years. His lips stretched to an uncomfortable grimace as he explained to his confused colleagues; "Not the best remake of art pieces, but our killer really did his homework."

"What."

"I can recognise his main source of inspiration for this one."

"What. What," Stark gaped. "Are you telling me that this…thing…is inspired by some medieval art pieces?"

"Allegory of Envy. Renaissance era."

"Great. Stevie could bond with Ripper over art," Romanov deadpanned, shuddering. "Send me back to Mother Russia please."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Funny."

There was a beat of thoughtful silence.

"It will be morbidly fascinating if the other two kids are submitted as the continuation of Ripper's seven deadly sin series," Stark commented nonchalantly.

"Tony, NO," Romanov hissed the exact same time Steve said, "They are not dead yet, Stark!"

"Well, Barton and Barnes couldn't track them down…"

"Ripper is not our average threat either. There is still hope."

"Come on, realistically, the kids are as good as dead."

"STARK."

"And if Ripper is such an artist—as morbid of a fucker he is—the kids could be the next pieces in his series."

"Jesus Christ," Steve exhaled, looking up to the ceiling as if he was begging for patience and strength from god.

Romanov muttered something in Russian under her breath.

"There is the probability of that, you know...?" Stark trailed, pointedly ignoring the unfavourable reactions of his colleagues as he pulled out a couple more files—this time personal files on Emmy and Rod—to the main frame of the holographic screen. "Look me in the eyes and tell me that the siblings don't represent—"

"NO," both Steve and Romanov growled in the same time.

Stark wisely kept his mouth shut.


Stubborn Barry was adorably annoying.

Adorable, yes, but he was incredibly aggravating and annoying.

"Barry, NO," Lisa chided for the twentieth-something time that day, hands on her hips, face twisted to a glare of exasperation at their stubborn resident doctor. "Go back to your couch or I'm strapping you to bed."

Barry stared at her with wide scandalized eyes.

"Don't know that you're kinky, Lise," he grinned, all the while pathetically attempting to unwrap the colourful wrapping of his cupcake using only one hand. "Need to be careful with my arm though. I can do some pain play, but real injuries sucks."

Len snorted a silent wheeze of laughter.

"Jesus, Barry," Lisa sighed, the corners of her lips half-turned to a smile as she swiped the dessert from his struggling hand and unwrapped it for him. "You had a nasty fever that was hot enough to fry an egg on your forehead."

Barry clicked his tongue. "That was an over-exaggeration, even for you."

"That wasn't even an exaggeration, Barry," Lisa retorted. "I demand you to adhere to your bedrest order."

Barry's face made a weird expression that seemed like a mix of exasperated smile and annoyed scowl.

"I'm cleared," he flashed his teeth in his trademark charming smile again. "As healthy as a horse."

Lisa lost her will to be stern when the doctor shoved the whole cupcake into his mouth.

"Barry," instead, the former criminal growled, channelling all of her Alpha female voice to subdue the stubborn man.

"Nuh-uh," Barry shook his head, not even fazed. "I'm as fit as a fiddle," he said, voice muffled with the food in his mouth. "Minus the arm."

No one can maintain a straight face once their gaze landed on the cartoonish doodle on the cast. That's why Cisco was sent away to remain in his workshop—because the genius scientist couldn't stop giggling and making snarky commentaries on the doodles. Not that anyone could fault him. All those hearts and glitters were hard to not laugh at.

"You threatened your own doctors," Lisa tried to argue. She struggled to remain serious, but Caitlin would definitely give her credits for her valiant effort restraining her own giggles. "They couldn't say no to you when you're practically their boss."

"I'm fine," Barry grumbled. "I'm completely fine and healthy."

As if to prove that he was fine enough to annoy everyone, he chewed on his dessert obnoxiously loud, lips curled to a satisfied smirk when Len shot a glare in his direction.

"What the hell, doc," the older man scowled, tossing his pen to the walls. "That's disgusting."

Barry chewed louder.

Len looked like he was torn in between sighing in exasperation or punching the doctor.

That was it. Caitlin could no longer remain incognito. She burst to a giggle, thus alerting the team of her presence in the cortex. Len threw his arms in the air, murmuring something that sounded like praises to the greatness of Caitlin's timing while Lisa quirked a somewhat relieved smile the moment their gaze met.

Barry's attention was not on Caitlin though.

"Oh, you got more cupcakes~" he swallowed the remaining half of his cupcake in one loud gulp, bouncing off the couch they have managed to fit into the cortex, his eyes were only fixed the stacks of boxes in Caitlin's arms. "Thanks, Cait."

One would have dreamt of having a lover that looked at them the exact way Barry stared longingly at the boxes of cupcakes.

"Your obsession over the cupcakes is worrying, Barry," Caitlin smiled. "You consumed an average of ten boxes in a day. This is unhealthy," she teased, keeping the boxes out of the reach of his one grabby hand.

"As if anything you guys had around here is healthy."

Len scowled. "Excuse us for not having fancy taste buds like you, doc."

"Pizza every day ain't healthy either," Barry retorted, trailing behind Caitlin in his futile attempts to wrestle one of the boxes from her. "You need to eat real balanced food. There are lots of choices," he frowned a bit. "Try to widen your food variety. Look into foreign cuisine, preferably Asians. The lot of fifty-plus countries of the continent. I'm particularly fond of the ones with rice."

"Rice ain't that common in our palate, doc," Len remarked, the end of his pen was pointed in Barry's direction. "We only started eating it because we have you to cook everything."

"It's not that hard to cook. And they have a wide-variety of side dishes," Barry retorted, scowling stubbornly. "Most are healthy and well-balanced too."

"Pizza is easier."

"You're a disgrace to humanity," Barry hissed to the older man, conveniently forgetting his mission to steal the cupcakes. "I can't believe that you heathens eat only pizza and Chinese every day before I joined the team…"

Len cocked an eyebrow in Barry's direction, his face was that of amused disbelief. "Says the guy who refused to eat nothing but cupcakes," he said flatly.

"I need food. And neither of you can cook," Barry growled, now returning to his attempts to wrestle the cupcake box from Caitlin's hold. "Gimme my cupcakes."

Geez, did he just whine?

Lisa burst to a giggle, pressing her face tight to her palms. Caitlin simply quirked an exasperated smile.

Len was so done.

"Get the doc outta here, Snow," the former thief growled. "Before he drives us crazy."

Barry's face twisted to an insulted scandalized expression.

"What did I do?!"

No one answered his query.

"Go sit at your couch and behave while we gather your stuffs, then I'll give you your cupcakes," Caitlin nodded towards the couch, steeling her resolves when he gave her that impossibly hard to resist puppy eyes. "Not falling for your puppy eyes trick, Barry," she smirked, avoiding those eyes and stared at the ceiling instead.

"You're a bully," he pouted, but obeyed regardless, making a show of shuffling dejectedly to the couch. "And I need my comfort food," he threw himself onto the couch, sprawled out across the whole length of the furniture and looking very much like a spoiled kid. "Don't judge."

Everyone stiffened for a moment.

No one has ever mentioned Iris ever since Barry cleared himself to be discharged from the hospital. They avoided talking about everything related to the current lurking danger of the city. Ripper's return, Iris' resurrection, the Britton's kids kidnapping and the growing insanity of the Ripper's MO—they avoided them all whenever Barry was around.

Not after everything that has happened at the graveyard.

It was agreed by the whole team to not remind Barry of Iris' resurrection to the dark side. Barry was surprisingly cheerful and bouncy ever since his nasty fever subsided, and such uncharacteristic behaviour had the whole team to tread on thin line around him. They weren't familiar with this new coping mechanism Barry was employing.

His coping mechanism was getting more unpredictable the longer they knew him.

They have seen him stoic and emotionless, displaying a perfect poker-faced statue—that was chilling. They have seen him faked a smile in an obvious attempt of hiding his depression—that was heart-wrenching. They have seen him seething silently, emitting dark aura that reminded them that he has all the knowledge in the world that could be used to kill if he wanted to—that was super terrifying.

This happy and bouncy Barry? It was annoyingly adorable and seemed like an improvement.

They all hoped that it wasn't a blessing in disguise.

"Matt has gone home?" Caitlin asked as she was sorting the food on the snack table. "I haven't seen him around," she added, turning around with a plastic bag filled with their share of the food.

The original plan was to stick together at Starlabs until they managed to get things under control.

However, Len's stressed out frown was growing deeper for each second that passed, and Lisa couldn't focus on anything when her attention was constantly diverted to watch over Barry. Cisco has already been exiled to his workshop because he just couldn't stop making fun off Barry's cast, while Dr. Wells has returned home after the first few hours because he couldn't stand the sight of seeing someone he respected so deeply acting so annoyingly childish. Considering the benefits of the team, Caitlin decided a change of plan was in order. Better not risk Len from losing his patience while dealing with Barry's shenanigans.

It was once an unbelievable idea, but Barry indeed possessed the capability to annoy people to death if he put his mind to it.

"Trouble at home," Barry mumbled, shuddering a bit as Lisa bundled him up in his coat. "Plus, Savvi finally stopped sulking," he snorted, as if there was something funny that neither Caitlin nor the Snart siblings understand. "Matt would ditch me for the brat," he huffed a bitter laugh, his voice toned down to that of a mock-sadness. "Oh, the sad perks of being the middle child."

Len snorted under his breath.

"Oh. What kind of trouble? Is it bad?" Lisa stopped smoothing the wrinkle over Barry's collar as she looked up to him—a concerned frown streaked across her face. "Will they be needing any helps?"

In such short days they knew each other, Lisa was already comfortable on joking to disown Len and adopt Matt as her older brother instead. Needless to say, Len took the competition for the best older brother seriously.

It resulted in chaos just like Caitlin predicted, but a good kind of chaos. It was like a relaxing distraction to divert their attention from the current crisis.

"Nah," Barry shrugged, tilting his chin up so that Lisa could wrap the scarf around his throat. "They have it covered. Matt is a good problem-solver once he stopped being a figurative pain in the ass," he scowled when the older woman poked his cheek, but his tone remained flat and bored as he added, "He is actually sort of excited with the whole ordeal."

"Why the hell would he be excited?" Len frowned, shifting his attention from the screen towards Barry.

"Because it's trouble," Barry grimaced. "He enjoyed getting into troubles."

"It runs in the family, huh?" Len leered. "You enjoyed getting into trouble too, doc."

Barry scowled at the older man, invoking a mocking laugh from the former thief.

"Tell them to call if they need help," Len remarked once his laughter subsided, his eyes were back to the screen of his laptop, his tone was monotonous and bored, as if he didn't care.

Caitlin knew that he did care though. Len hardly ever had anyone that he could bond so easily with like Matt ever since Mick went off saving the timeline with Team Legends. There was a forming comradeship between Len and Matt, although it seemed that neither man wanted to admit it.

"Sure, sure," Barry was equally monotonous in his response. However, his face lit up in mischief when Caitlin hooked her arm with his good one. He perked up in Len's direction, yelling obnoxiously loud; "Hey, Lenny—"

Caitlin pressed her hand over his mouth and tugged him out before he could make any snarky remark that might tempt Len to toss random object in their direction.

"Aw. Cait, you're no fun," he grumbled once she finally allowed him the privilege of speaking again. "Len is super fun to tease," he tried to reason when she ignored him, but did not resist when she ushered him into the passenger seat of his car.

"No messing with the stressed guy, Barry," she smirked, taking the driver seat. "You don't have accelerated healing if he decided to ice you."

"I thought you're supposed to protect civilians like me?"

"Don't worry, Barr," she smiled, not even looking in his direction as they left Starlabs' compound. "I'm your assigned babysitter until further notice. You will be well-protected."

That managed to invoke an annoyed scowl from him. Caitlin loved it.

"I don't need any babysitter," he muttered under his breath.

"With how you behave recently, Barry?" Caitlin deadpanned, a taunting smirk spread across her face. "The whole team has come to an agreement that you need a babysitter and a caretaker. Even Dr. Wells."

She received another annoyed scowl and a crumpled ball of tissue to her hair for that comment.

It has been a mutual agreement of the team that Caitlin would be on babysitting duty once Barry's bored shenanigans reached the point that he needed to be kept away from the stressed team so that he wouldn't drive them crazy. They nominated her for the duty because she is the most likely to be able to hold her own if Iris struck again—having similar powers and all. She also was the only one in Team Frost who has met the protection detail guy from Steve's team—which freaked her out a bit to know that there was a whole division consisted on trained vigilantes whose function was like some underground National Security Department.

And they deemed Barry important enough to warrant a personal protection detail.

It was cool to have back up.

Plus, Caitlin would have the privilege of taking a break of her own while babysitting him.

These past couple of days were extremely eventful and hectic.

In between the graveyard fight, Barry's sudden nasty fever, Ripper's annoyingly flambouyant comeback murder and the kidnapping of the Britton's siblings, Caitlin didn't have much time to rest despite Frost was the one taking the brunt of the exhaustion of being the active persona for an extended period of time. The team was up to their neck with investigations. Even with Steve's help to take over the guard-duty at the hospital, they still have too much on their plate.

Frost and Cisco spent way too much time at CCPD as Team Frost needed the intel from the police, while CCPD required the raw power of metahuman to subdue Iris. Plus, it was the first time ever Ripper was suspected to kidnap the relatives of his victim, and the fact that this was the most elaborate work the serial killer has submitted for public viewing ever since he started, has had everyone to be on their toes.

No one knows what to expect next.

The high stress level and the sudden rise of anxiety attack among the officers of CCPD proved that Ripper was growing to be more of an annoying menace and health hazard than he originally was.

Stuck neck deep in the current crisis, Caitlin still hasn't gotten around to contact Oliver, moreover that the older man was terribly busy with whatever psychos on the loose in Starling now. She ought to call him soon though, since Oliver was probably the best source she had on the magical fountain that resurrected the dead.

Well, he was the easiest accessible source, considering that Sara was off gallivanting across the timestream and was difficult to reach.

As depressing as it was to know that her best friend has really been resurrected as a villain, Caitlin was determined to be positive for the sake of her own mental well-being. Sara managed to regain her old self again, maybe there was still hope for Iris to return to them.

Caitlin exhaled a heavy defeated breath.

"That's one heavy sigh," Barry commented, brows almost knitted together in a concerned frown; he sounded more like his normal self now. "Am I that annoying?"

She shook her head. "It's not you, Barry," Caitlin glanced briefly at him and gave him an assuring smile. "But I had to admit that you can be a pure annoyance when you put your mind to it," she smirked, wanting to change the topic, and even though her eyes were fixed on the road, she could still see the beaming grin on his face from her peripheral vision. "Len was so close to maim you with the most random object he could reach."

Barry was silent for a long moment.

"Mission accomplished then," he finally huffed, letting out a soft chuckle.

He didn't seem to notice the surprise that streaked across Caitlin's face.

Caitlin noted the barest hint of exhaustion in his voice and the slump his shoulders against the seat that suggested he was about to pass out right there and then. He seemed like he was back to normal—like his normal calm and mature self as all the silly and annoying behaviours were now gone from his demeanour.

Caitlin's mind took way too long for things to click in.

"Did you act annoyingly silly on purpose?" she asked, slowing down a bit now that they have entered the compound of his apartment.

She winced when Barry stared at her with the most unimpressed look he has ever displayed.

"I cleared myself out of the hospital to avoid the gloomy bleak atmosphere," his lips curved to a smirk, his good hand reached out to lightly flick a finger to her temple. "And what did I get when I arrived at the cortex? A gloomier atmosphere filled with stress and murderous aura."

Caitlin pursed her lips, guilt filled her chest as she now was positively avoiding from meeting his gaze. She busied herself with the drive, fumbling with the security card that granted access to the parking lot of his apartment building even though she has previously put it in the most easily accessible place.

Crap. Did they overworked the guy they were supposed to take care of?

"I need to do something. The tensed atmosphere was suffocating," Barry exhaled, eyes fluttered close wearily as if he just had the chance to relax for the first time ever since he was discharged from the hospital. "Not that I wasn't enjoying annoying all of you, though," he added in a more light-hearted tone, chuckling fondly. "But yeah, all of that stupidity was on purpose."

"You're surprisingly convincing."

"I have two weirdoes of half-brothers," he stated flatly, as if that would explain everything. "My reference materials are the best."

"Dr. Wells was traumatised you know," Caitlin pointed out, glancing at him to see his reactions.

It was an unspoken fact that Dr. Wells deeply respected Barry as fellow scholars; which it made it hard for the old scientist to accept Barry's silly shenanigans since the past few days.

"That was the best part," Barry's grin was positively delighted. "I can finally cross out 'annoy the life out of Dr. Wells' from my bucket list."

"Meanie," she pouted, averting her eyes from meeting his gaze as she put in an exaggerated effort to look for his reserved parking space.

There were too many expensive cars around the lot that she worried that she couldn't afford it if there was an accident. Completely focused with the drive, Caitlin has missed the way his eyes twinkled in smug amusement, nor did she notice the strange curve of his smirk.

"You're entertaining to tease," Barry remarked, voice smooth and perfectly calm. "I couldn't resist myself."

Caitlin obliviously drove on.


Caitlin was given the babysitting duty.

Or to be specific, she was in charge of babysitting Barry.

Barry didn't know what to feel about that.

The pro of this situation was that his alibi for the next few weeks was pretty much solidified with the Frost herself watching over him. He had her to vouch on his injury, which would be greatly helpful to him should he was ever got arrested. But in the same time, there was the probability that she would notice his façade and lies too.

Flash was right. Barry has regained the full functionality of his supposedly broken right arm in the span of 12 hours.

He has spent half of the day after his full recovery conducting hours-long surgery to fix Rod's legs and the rest of the day trying to bond with Emmy. Barry considered himself to be successful for both endeavours since the surgery was successful in the end and Emmy was comfortable enough to let him sit next to her by the time he has to leave the siblings under Gideon's care.

The mute girl seemed to have softened a bit to him when Rod was predicted to be cleared for rehab in a few days' time.

Which by the way, made Barry thought that if Flash wasn't so deranged and evil, the speedster would've made a wonderful profit in medical field with how fast his blood serum fixed the most helpless of injuries.

Barry stared at his perfectly good arm in the bedazzled cast and sighed heavily.

If only his doppelganger wasn't insane and vengeful.

"Barry?" there was a knock on his door and he promptly winced at the idea of pretending to be helpless. "Do you need help?" Caitlin called out.

Yep. There it was. She thought that he couldn't dress himself. How degrading.

"I'm good!" he called back, wincing at the ridiculousness of the current state of his shirt.

Nobody seemed to notice that he was perfectly ambidextrous since he was prone to use his right hand for most things. It was years of practice to fake being right-handed. His old man had him kept this ability a secret ever since he was a kid. An advantage against unsuspecting opponent, Dr. Henry Allen had once said.

Barry didn't know why he adhered to those words even after his father disappeared, but it did him great, moreover now that he has established night career as a serial killer.

Anyway, in his current 'injured' state, it would be logical that he would have trouble buttoning up his shirt using one functional non-dominant arm.

Barry sighed heavily.

Since when has his life turned to one dramatic play full of deceit and acting?

"Okay," she replied politely, but there was no sign that she has left his door.

Oh, how he wished that he has the foresight to predict that Deathstorm's scorching hot temperature would cause immediate panic for everyone once they swapped place. He returned from Dark Earth with a completed to-do-list—being so pleased with himself of the success with the siblings and the perfect comeback of his bloodthirsty alias—only to be greeted with everyone's tears of relief.

Ugh. The long hours trying to sooth their frantic panicking…all because of his supposedly deadly fever has suddenly subsided.

Even Captain Rogers exhaled in relief at Barry's recovery.

He even got a hug from the enormous man. Those muscles weren't for show—they were solid and hard as fuck.

As comforting as it was to know that the military officer wasn't as suspicious of him now as he was before, Barry could do nothing to decline the team's persistence to have Caitlin watching over him for the rest of the week, just in case he had a 'relapse'. It was a waste of time and energy, of course, but it put the team at ease, and proven to be helpful to his alibi, so he shut his mouth up and accepted his fate.

Barry gave a quick once-over to the mirror and schooled his face to a sheepish smile as he opened the door.

He grimaced when the corners of Caitlin's lips twitched a bit as if she was holding back a laughter.

This is humiliating.

"Mind if I fix your buttons?" she smiled, evidently doing her best to not laugh at him.

"It looks fine," Barry grumbled, but let his shoulders slumped anyway when she reached out her hands to his shirt. "I'm perfectly capable of buttoning my own shirt."

"Of course you are," she cooed, smiling wider as she fumbled to unbutton the clothing hazard of his shirt. "But I want to help," her fingers were quick and swift on the buttons, adjusting and fixing them to get into the right slot.

"Remind me to shop for more t-shirts," he muttered, completely not realising that he was unconsciously leaning closer to her cold touch.

"Preferably one with larger size," she smoothed out his collar, her lips quirked to a teasing smirk. "Your cast won't fit through your slim-fit shirts."

Barry's brows shot up to his hairline in genuine surprise.

"You sure you want to pass on the beauty of my slim-fit shirts?" he teased, smirking smugly.

Caitlin flushed to a light pink hue, but her shoulders were straight and firm when she stepped back and patted his shoulder. "Your comfort first, Barry," she smiled, shifting her weight from one foot from another. "You're not obligated to wear teenager-sized shirts just so we have something to ogle."

Barry smirked.

"I would've gone shirtless now than dealing with my vast collection of button-downs, but then I remembered that Frost has wonderfully perverted sense of humour and I'm bound to be teased for the next month if I walked around shirtless around her," he stated dryly, closing his bedroom door behind him as they wandered down to the living room.

This was probably the longest period he had a guest in his permanent resident ever since the last time Len was here. He worried that Caitlin would stumble over the little secret room in his study, but then he reminded himself that he has wonderful security system, and even if she did stumble over his base here, she won't find much. Barry has completely moved his operation base to his apartment on Dark Earth. His apartment there was much safer and more well-equipped than the one in his penthouse. Plus, he has supportive and wonderful neighbours there. It was a better environment to be creative than here.

The worst that could happen if Caitlin discovered anything was that he would be questioned of the reasons behind his secret room, of which he could easily lie his way out.

"Are we going to spend the day watching Disney again?" Barry questioned when he was stretched out on his couch, Caitlin was on the floor with her head resting against his knee. "Or are you going to spend the rest of the day shadowing me and being an incognito protection detail?"

Caitlin choked on her own saliva, her gaze darted briefly towards the glass panelling of his windows before she switched her attention to him and gave him a bright sheepish smile.

Barry resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Barry wasn't as naively oblivious as she thought. Sure, she was all tight-lipped about it, but he has enough resource to know that her babysitting duty was a part of protection details that Team Frost has compromised with CCPD and whatever division of national security Steve was from. There was no way that Barry won't be getting a protection detail. They all were still convinced that Iris was out for his blood after all.

A waste of time and ridiculous effort, in Barry's opinion.

He sincerely hoped that the sniper at the opposite building actually has time to sleep. It was concerning to see the guy remained awake and watchful every time Barry spotted a glimpse of him through his window. Poor national security guy was dispatched as Caitlin's backup for no reason.

Killer Frost wasn't going to cause any trouble in near future considering that Flash has summoned the full force of his manpower to deal with the sudden threat of their Earth.

Barry praised his luck to be born in the Earth that was not the target of curious aliens.

He was so lucky that the weirdest thing ever happened to his Earth was metahumans. No curious aliens that wanted to poke around Earth just because one crazy speedster decided that he wanted to own the world. It was extremely amusing to hear Savitar ranted for straight two hours about his (supposedly) rotten luck to be resurrected from literal death by insane doppelganger whose life goal was to cause prolonged headache and stress to him.

It was amusing, but the threat that concerned the scarred speedster was very much real.

From the little information that Barry could understand from the speed-rant, Savitar stopped sulking because a bunch of aliens from multiple realms has approached him to request a meeting with the Flash to sort out a peace treaty. That was no courtesy right there. The aliens were concerned with their own safety after noticing Flash's ruthless world domination on Dark Earth.

The Flash was considered a major threat to the universe that aliens all across the galaxies came poking their ugly heads down to Dark Earth to observe the situation.

Yep. A bunch of alien invasive force approached Savitar first because they were scared shitless to face Flash up front.

Man, what a reputation his doppelganger had…

Which mean that Barry might have to consider another safehouse just in case he needed to relocate if intergalactic war broke out on Dark Earth because of Flash's stubborn cockiness.

What a hassle….

"We could do something else if you want?" Caitlin looked up to meet his gaze, her cheek was pressed against the edge of the couch, her words came out with her barely concealed yawn.

Barry noted the lines of exhaustion on her face, the dark curve on the skin beneath her eyes and the way her eyes seemed duller than usual. She hasn't been sleeping much, probably only have as much sleep as the guy at the opposite building had—which wasn't much since Barry didn't think that the guy ever slept—if their constant texting was any indicator.

Did she honestly think that Barry has never been bugged?

His family was famous enough to have people wanting to bug them for a sliver of information to bring them down. Plus, it's not like Henry Allen was as likeable as his son. There was a good deal of people who hated his father—something that Barry never understood until he reached the age of teenagehood. Barry was an obedient perfect child, therefore when his old man trained him at an incredibly young age to locate bugs and destroy them, he simply followed without question.

By this age, Barry was well-versed with the knowledge to debug his own house, as well as the necessary skills needed to turn the tables on the people who tried to spy him.

Did they even know that he has paired his phone with theirs and has been reading on their texts since Day 1? No, Barry didn't think that they notice.

Oh, the perks of being harmless civilian.

Barry quirked a gentle smile and tossed one of the cushions to her lap.

"Go to sleep, Cait," he said, fixing the pillow he had propped on the armrest and made a show of waving his phone in front of her face, the page was showing the bookmarked page of his latest reading endeavour. "There's a futon somewhere in the linen closet. You can sleep here. I'm not going anywhere, so if anything happened, you can still be my knight in icy armour."

She laughed and elbowed his thigh. "I don't wear armour."

Barry scowled. "Can you please appreciate my attempts with wordplay?"

Her laugh was more light-hearted when she got up to retrieve the futon. There was a hint of heaviness in her footsteps, but her smile was genuine when she spread the futon across the floor and stretched out her body. She yawned again, blinking tiredly at him. She looked cute—like a sleepy cat—despite the dark circles under her eyes and the dullness of her exhausted eyes.

"Don't go anywhere," she warned, her sharp manicured nail inches from his cheek. "I'm gonna nap for half an hour."

"Geez, Cait. I can't even properly button my shirt," Barry muttered, getting cosy against the pillow. "What can I do that would be remotely life-threatening?"

Caitlin shuddered. "You have horrible track record on getting into troubles…"

"I did not."

"Do you seriously want me to list it down?" Caitlin rolled her eyes to the side, looking completely unimpressed when she focused her glare on his bedazzled cast. "Starting from Woodward's assault to your current injury…," she scowled, obviously not happy with his track record. "You don't have a clean record when it comes to life-threatening situation."

Barry opened his mouth to retort, only to close it again when he has nothing good to offer.

Caitlin's smile was impossibly smug when he remained in his defiant silence.

"Stay there," she commanded, her eyes briefly flickered to the wide glass panelling of his walls. "Wake me up if anything remotely suspicious happened."

Barry wondered if she was talking to him, or to the poor guy who was listening in via the bug in her hair clip.

"Go to sleep, Cait," Barry growled, tossing yet another cushion to her. "I'm just gonna stay here and read. That is hardly life-threatening."

She huffed, her nose scrunched up adorably.

For some odd unknown reasons, Barry really wanted to pet her. Or bop her scrunched up nose. She was so cute. What the hell.

"It's nice to have a peaceful morning," she slurred, after few good rolls around the tangles of cushions and blanket. "Nothing can ruin this peace."

Barry now found it even harder to resist the itch to pet her. His hands occasionally twitched, wanting to thread his fingers in her soft-looking hair, longing the good ol days when he often spent peaceful lazy mornings like this by playing with Iris' hair. Iris has nice hair, albeit she has changed it from her genetically curly hair. Not that it mattered. Barry loved it anyway. He used to be fascinated with how soft Iris' hair was, and how silky smooth it was as they slipped through his fingers. He remembered his lazy peaceful mornings back then. Mornings like this were often accompanied with laughter because Barry's continuous failure in the most basics of hairstyling back then never failed to invoke laughter from Iris.

Barry pursed his lips.

The memories made his heart ached, a lump made its presence known in his throat.

He hated how easy the memories of the good ol days could make his heart ached, despite the fact he has Iris' corpse as literal house décor and felt nothing every time he walked passed her. These memories were poison to the health of his mind.

Caitlin mumbled something, already half-asleep by this point. Barry smiled at her prone form, noting that she has the habit of rolling around restlessly all over the futon as she fell asleep. Her hair splayed across the futon, a striking red against creamy softness as she finally settled to lie on her side, curled up to a ball with the cushion and blanket tangled between her limbs.

Barry's lips quirked to a smile. "Cute," he murmured, leaning over her and reached out a hand to brush her hair out of her face.

He wasn't expecting the loud noise that caused her to jolt up and bump their heads together.

"Argh, fuck, ouch," Barry found himself losing his own word filter, one hand rubbing his abused forehead, all the while internally cursing whoever that called her this early of the morning.

If he had a bump or bruise out of this, she would never let him live this down.

For the record, she has impossibly hard head, and that was the most painful headbutt that Barry has ever experienced. And he has experienced a lot. He was no stranger to pain. Frost must have been lying when she said that super strength wasn't her thing. This was super painful. Ouch.

"Barry...? Are you okay?"

Caitlin wore an expression of confused worry on her face, looking like she was torn in checking on Barry or answering her call. Barry grimaced and waved her away, signalling that he was okay. He didn't need any more babying from her.

She gave him an apologetic smile but hurriedly answered her phone; "Ollie! Hi!"

She went silent after that. Her smile faded.

"Yes? What, sure."

Barry stopped rubbing his forehead upon noticing the way Caitlin's face has morphed to confused frown, shifting to worried grimace and eventually to grim seriousness that she only displayed when they faced a particularly dangerous threat.

That did irk Barry a bit. Usually, only Scarlet Ripper was able to coax that grim expression from Caitlin Snow.

Who dared to steal his privilege of pissing off his favourite nemesis?!

"Sure, I'll help," Caitlin murmured, shooting occasional glances in Barry's direction. "No, no, no, it's completely fine, Ollie. We have each other's back," she assured, smiling kindly even though it won't be seen by the caller. Caitlin's face made that unsure expression again, her teeth nibbling nervously on her lower lips as she meekly asked, "Would you mind if I try to bring in some back up, though? This sounds serious."

Barry tried so hard to stop the annoyed scowl from emerging on his face but instead schooled his face to one of concerned confusion.

Caitlin's voice suddenly grew softer, and she went on talking for a couple more minutes, making an obvious effort to hide most of it from Barry's hearing. After what it seemed like an agreement for a meet-up, Caitlin finally hung up. She turned around to face him, her face was a complete devastation while she had one hand threading through her own air, looking like she just received a world-threatening news.

"What is it?" Barry asked, curious now.

He didn't like the resigned expression on her face at all.

Caitlin exhaled a shaky breath; her shoulders trembled, and the smile didn't reach her eyes at all.

"Aliens," she deadpanned.

Silence.

"Aliens," Barry repeated blankly.

"Yep."

"Seriously?" He exhaled in utter disbelief. "Aliens?!"

Caitlin gave him a resigned smile and nodded exasperatedly.

"We have an incoming alien invasion," she sighed, slumping back to the futon in a delirious laughter. "So much for a peaceful morning," Caitlin crowed, sarcasm and bitterness dripped from each syllable.

Barry, on the other hand, was so done.


A/N: A lot of exposition in this one. The alien invasion kinda needed to happen, because of...reasons. lol. Plus, the information that Nat found was not entirely fake, so...how many of you had the hunch that Scarlet Ripper's first victim wasn't the first blood in Barry's hands? And I told you Emmy and Rod has much bigger role to the plot.

And I swear that the use of Marvel characters has saved me from googling up good names for the special division characters. Apart from Albert (whom I replaced with Steve) I legit used Agent A, Agent B, and etcetera in my original outline. All hail the Avengers. (No, they are not known heroes in this one if you're wondering. Just a bunch of strictly trained personnel.)

Anyway, I had to admit that this ain't my favourite chapter to write. But, it was important for my planned plot regardless. I hope you enjoyed it, though.

See ya next update~ I appreciate your thoughts.