It was 4 o'clock in the morning when Cisco called her.
"Caitlin, this is very important."
Her room in the bowels of Earth-66's S.T.A.R. Labs was still and cold and dark. She had been reluctant to even pull one arm out from under the covers to reach for the communicator. There weren't any curtains to cover the window, and far in the distance, she could see the place where the road onto the property turned to connect with the highway. It was a little too easy to imagine the taillights of every car as the eyes of the Reverse Flash, glowing as he stood just outside the fence. Her sleepy mind hadn't used her experiences with Dr. Wells against her in a long time, but distance didn't make it any less effective.
"Cisco," Caitlin grunted, not bothering to morph the walkie talkie into the bluetooth as she rolled over, "I swear, unless Barry is dying..."
"No, no, he's fine. He's good. Everybody's all good here." Cisco sounded sheepish. "I was just wondering—like, I know it's been a while, but—"
"Cisco."
"You up for a game of chess?"
Caitlin's legs swung to hang over the side of the bed. The question instantly transported her back to her first day of work after the particle accelerator exploded.
It had been two weeks since the accident, and she'd been bedridden, shattered over Ronnie. She ate very little, things like a single slice of bread or a protein shake, things she knew would keep her body from giving out on her. The bare minimum, because eating didn't matter anymore. She slept fitfully, if at all, and when she woke up in the night she could swear she heard him saying her name. People had stopped coming by to try and console her, but they still called. Even her mother had tried to get ahold of her, but all Caitlin could do was send a one-worded text assuring her she hadn't died in the explosion. Not physically anyway.
When she finally did get out of bed, it was to answer the door.
"Doctor Wells?" Caitlin had mumbled, hair a mess, staring numbly at her boss as he parked his wheelchair on her front step.
Harrison's smile was there, but it was tired. All he said was, "It's time to come back home now, Doctor Snow."
Reporting for duty at S.T.A.R. Labs that afternoon, Cisco had been the first to greet her. The only one there to greet her. Everyone else had gone. She hadn't seen him since Ronnie's funeral, and his eyes were wide and bloodshot when he spotted her. One thought pushed through the fog in her mind, the concern that he hadn't been sleeping either.
He hurried forward, and at first she thought he'd hug her—she wasn't sure she'd be open to a hug ever again—but she didn't have to worry. He stopped short, and there was a moment of silence as they just looked at each other, the echoes of the friend that wasn't standing with them hovering just past their shoulders.
"You up for a game of chess?" Cisco had asked, voice quiet.
So the first thing she'd done when she returned to the place she'd lost her fiancee was not flinging herself into her chores. It wasn't crumpling into a mess in the corridor. It wasn't turning and running away. It was playing a game with the closest thing she'd had to family back then. She remembered winning, but she couldn't allow herself to think Cisco had lost on purpose due to her grief. He had played just as hard as she had, and while they played they talked—about the tie Cisco had worn over his tee shirt that awful night, about improving Dr. Wells' wheelchair, about the employees that hadn't returned to work after their big failure. They argued about which scented candles to light in order to get the gaseous smell out of the Cortex. Caitlin had felt her shell wobble and crack, but if Cisco noticed he was putting her back together, he didn't let on. He just made his popular references and named his pawns and even gave her the cherry lollipop he'd brought in the place of his lunch. It made her warmer to think that after everything they'd lost, he still carried lollipops everywhere he went.
So in those wee hours, when Caitlin heard him ask her again if she wanted to play chess, she knew it was more like a request for a glass of water after running a marathon. Something was hurting Cisco, and he needed her to help him get away from it.
She held the walkie talkie closer to her lips. "We're on parallel Earths. How are we going to play chess?"
Static surrounded his voice. "Ohohoho, wait till you see what Francesco's been cooking. Pull the antenna up. On the walkie talkie, yup, all the way up."
A moment later, Caitlin was having a kind of multidimensional Skype call with her best friend. The antenna on her communicator acted as a kind of mini projector, flashing a live video large enough to fill the entire north wall of the room. Cisco appeared on camera, wearing a tee shirt that said I Hate You To The Moon And Back. Caitlin pulled her bathrobe more tightly around her. Baggy pajamas did nothing on an icy autumn night, especially when your DNA had been altered to produce more cold, instead of pushing it away.
"Cisco, this is amazing," Caitlin breathed, beaming at the display. "Why couldn't you have told me about this feature before, I could've been doing this all along!" She squinted at the background, stifling a yawn. "Why are you still at S.T.A.R. Labs?"
Cisco's torso was no longer in view; he was leaning far out, arms stretching, fiddling with something that was doing a lot of clanging. "I drank too much coffee."
"You could just as easily be reading a book at home," Caitlin muttered. "Or watching one of those sci-fi movies you love so much?"
"Between you and me, sci-fi's really not my thing these days, y'know, what with the whole evil time travel speed god trying to ruin our lives," Cisco muttered back. He pulled back into range. "Okay!" Clapping his hands, Cisco adjusted the camera and picked up something that looked strangely like an 80's video game control stick. "Get ready to lose spectacularly."
Caitlin's nose wrinkled. "But there's no—"
There was a noise like a vacuum being turned off, and a holographic chess board appeared in front of her on the bed. She knew it was holographic because of the static framing its shape, running in and out of the checkered slab of wood.
"You were saying?"
"How did you..."
"Kadabra dropped this when he tried to blow us all up," Cisco admitted, holding up what looked like a very expensive, awfully dangerous wristwatch. "I tweaked it."
He looked so pleased with himself, Caitlin felt guilty for pointing out the flaw. "But holograms are just light particles. It's not like I can move the pawns."
"Most holograms are just light particles. You're looking at a Cisco RamonTM special here. They're like those touch screens on your phone," he informed her, tapping his temple. "They respond to the electricity in the human body. They'll go wherever you swipe 'em."
"That's very clever," she praised him, smiling. "Shall we?"
"Let's."
They played until the first rays of light began shining through Caitlin's window. At one point Cisco swore she was cheating, and by the time they were halfway through, she had cocooned herself in her covers, much to her friend's amusement. He himself had the heat turned all the way up in Earth-1's Cortex, a pumpkin spice latte at his side and several of her pawns captured.
"Why don't I just come over there for a visit?" Cisco asked while waiting for her to make a move. "We can play chess with an actual chess board. I mean, what are my powers for if I can't check out other Earths whenever I get the travel bug?"
"The good of humanity?" Caitlin suggested dryly.
"You right, you right."
"I don't think that would be the best idea," she admitted. Holding up a palm, she added quickly, "Not that I wouldn't love to see you—you know I would—but do you really think you'd enjoy yourself? Savitar hasn't exactly sweetened over time."
"What, like a fruit?" Cisco grunted.
"Besides," Caitlin moved to capture one of his pieces—the first one she'd managed to take. "They need you at home."
"We need you back home too, Caitlin." Cisco didn't even seem to notice she'd stolen his pawn. He was looking into the camera with earnest, sad puppy eyes. "It's not the same without you."
"Are you saying Julian isn't a better physician than I am?"
"Please, Indiana Jones is barely in here," Cisco scoffed. "I'm saying it feels weird when one of us is missing. You know, one of our Golden Trio. Trust me, Team Flash isn't Team Flash when you're not around."
Caitlin didn't respond audibly, hoping her grin was answer enough. She remembered what the Flash had told her before she'd gone to Earth-66, how he looked down at her and made her promise to come back, telling her how much he needed her with them. I need you too. All of you. She'd be frozen solid without them.
Cisco was swallowing a sip from his latte. "Seriously. Like, for example, okay—Barry came in here yesterday after a mission out on the river—boat thing, don't ask—with a straight-up head cold. Turns out homeboy forgot water soaking your feet, plus cold weather, equals the sniffles. And here I have these perfectly-good resistant boots I've been saving for the season, and we didn't even think about it!"
"Technically getting wet feet doesn't result in developing a cold," Caitlin corrected, mouth on default. "Although it is true that if you're already carrying the virus, wet feet don't help."
Cisco snapped his fingers. Their game of chess forgotten, he pointed at the camera, leaning back in his seat. "See? That's why we need you here! You would've nagged and told him he couldn't go out without protection and I would've been like, ayyy, new boots, problem solved! And I wouldn't have to listen to him sneezing through the comms all day."
"I do not nag," Caitlin protested.
Cisco's eyes widened. "Oh my bad. You're right, I must've been thinking of a different Caitlin Rosalind Snow, M.D."
"We agreed never to mention my hideous middle name."
"You didn't get it in writing."
She made a face that told him he was insufferable and he gave her a big, cheesy grin that told her he was aware, the pair of them chortling in unison.
"So what about you, how's it going with Team Flash-66?" Cisco sat up straight. "Which is totally its new name, by the way, thank you."
Caitlin rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't call it a team, exactly. The only real mission we have seems to be stopping Heat Wave. But that's a lot harder to do when the heat part comes from him, and not from some souped up flamethrower."
"Well yeah, but you have the cuffs, so—just get those bad boys on him and he gone."
Caitlin blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"The cuffs, if you slap those on him—"
"What cuffs, Cisco?" Caitlin demanded, voice sharp.
Cisco's mouth dropped open. "Are you serious right now? I packed you power-dampening, titanium handcuffs. Did you not check the bag I gave you? They were right next to the suit!"
"You're telling me this now?"
"They were right next to the suit, Caitlin!"
"How did you fashion power-dampening handcuffs this late into the game?" Caitlin groaned.
"I haven't exactly had a lot of free time, thank you very much," Cisco growled. He admitted a little reluctantly, "Those are just prototypes. I used some of the scrap metal from the Pipeline. No guarantee they're gonna hold anybody for too long, but at least they won't kill them."
"Cisco, why are you really up this late?" Caitlin finally murmured. "Is there something keeping you awake?"
His smile dwindled. "Oh. Uh...I dunno. I guess..." He looked down at the chess board, lifting one of his pieces and letting it dangle. "I guess it's the whole thing with H.R. I mean, he was always—any time the big freaking Infantino Street deadline kept me up, I came down here. I thought—I thought if I kept working, you know, I could figure out a solution overnight. Then we'd be in the clear." He rubbed his nose. "H.R. woke up a couple of times I did it, and..." Cisco let out the last of the tale on one long exhalation. "He brought me some of his stupid coffee, and he'd give me one of his stupid pep talks..."
"Waved his stupid drumsticks around?" Caitlin guessed, a breathy little laugh dancing out, tone breaking.
Cisco smiled, but he didn't laugh with her. Finally he nodded, and kept nodding, and when Caitlin thought he might forfeit the game and call it a night—or a morning—he said quietly, "I really miss him."
"I'm sure he'd be very happy to hear that." She sat back on her palms, watching his image flicker on the wall.
"Aw, god." Cisco did chuckle then, rolling his eyes. "Good thing he's not around. He'd never shut up." His eyelids lowered; he let out a puff of air. "I keep thinking there was something else we should've done. I know there was, he didn't have to do what he did. I get that he died a hero, okay, but...it—"
"It doesn't make it feel any better," Caitlin finished. He glanced up at her, and she pursed her lips. "I felt the same way when Ronnie passed. H.R. did what he knew was right. He wouldn't want you to waste time wishing he hadn't, he wanted to be a hero. He wouldn't want you to waste time at all."
Cisco ran a hand through his hair. "Thanks, Cait," he sighed.
"Of course."
The video feed on the wall shuddered, and the walkie talkie began emitting a very loud BEEP, BEEP, BEEP. Leaping to pick it up, Caitlin turned it around and around in her hands, trying to figure out how to silence it, afraid it would wake Wally, though she knew he was too far away in the building to actually hear it.
"What's happening?" Caitlin asked Cisco's image. The chess board had fizzled out.
"You got an incoming call," Cisco replied, baffled.
"How do I answer it?"
"Hang up on me." Cisco threw an arm into the air, letting it slap back down onto his knee, exasperated. "Guess I'll beat you later."
"Sorry, Cisco." Caitlin pushed the antenna down, and the projection disappeared entirely. Tucking hair out of her face, she held the talk button on the side of the device. "Hello?"
"I found him."
"Savitar?" Caitlin glanced around the room, foolishly, as if he were standing there. "You found who?"
"Rory. He's in a bank in the middle of the city. I saw him go in when I ran past."
Caitlin huffed, pulling on her slippers and heading out of her bedroom, making for the Cortex. "Shouldn't you be resting?" He may have had accelerated healing, but she would've given the shoulder at least one more day without so much dashing around. He barely ever took that suit off.
"I dunno if you noticed," Savitar's voice was tight, "But I don't respond well to your nagging."
"I don't—never mind." Caitlin had reached the Cortex, whispering to make sure Wally remained asleep. "Which bank is it?"
"National."
"You won't be able to catch him without any more injuries—to yourself and others." Snow fought the urge to bite her lip. "Cisco just told me he packed power-dampening devices along with your suit, but they're back here in the Cortex."
She bent down, rooting through the duffel bag she kept beneath the monitors. They were at the bottom of the bag, silver with yellow circles of light all the way around—a gangster's version of a pair of handcuffs.
"They seem self-functioning, but I don't know if you have time to—"
FWOOSH!
Savitar was right in front of her in his suit, very much in her personal space, and she sucked in involuntarily at the sudden company. Where she held one cuff, he was now gripping the other.
"I have time," he told her slowly, pulling off the hood of his outfit.
At his volume, Caitlin's wide eyes cut to Wally's sleeping form. Savitar's head turned; he saw the boy and glanced back at her, finger to his lips exaggeratedly as if she were the one being too loud. He made an intentional 'my bad' grimace, showing surprisingly clean teeth. The expression was so teasingly reminiscent of Barry when he said something that made Caitlin give him the look, she was tempted to deal out the same blow to Savitar himself.
He began moving soundlessly for the exit, as if not wanting to speed out directly in the room Wally was snoozing in. On his way, he turned around walking, pointing to her bedhead. "Your hair looks nice."
Caitlin's mouth drew into a tight line, not at all enjoying being taunted. She did give him the look then. His eyebrows bounced and he pursed his lips at her, tugging his hood back on before speeding out of the building.
Knowing he'd be at the bank in a total of ten seconds, Caitlin counted before huffing into the comms, "Please tell me he isn't setting things on fire already."
He didn't answer right away, though she was sure he'd heard her. Most likely he was deciding whether or not he should entertain her desire to be his 'backup' on today's mission; this preference of his was subject to change day to day. "Doesn't look like it from the inside. Have you always been this high strung or are you just testing me?"
"So he's not drawing attention to himself this time." Caitlin began thinking aloud, tuning out his jibes, brushing more messy locks out of her eyes. "He doesn't want to be caught—he's definitely there to steal something."
"In a bank." Savitar's voice was the audio equivalent of raised eyebrows. "Imagine that. Almost like there's something valuable in here."
"How can you be focused if you have time to backtalk me?" Caitlin hissed. Wally was rolling over, wincing; his legs were probably stiff if she had to guess. "And yes, I have always been this high strung." She let the words hang there, a sudden thought occurring to her. Draw attention to yourself. "Are you in your suit right now?"
"I changed before I came in," he told her impatiently, as if she needn't have asked.
"Good," she sighed. Bedhead was very ticklish. She wished she'd thought to comb it out before leaving her room. "He'll be on the lookout for the Flash."
"We're lucky I'm not the Flash, then," Savitar grunted.
Caitlin's eyelids flew shut as she realized her mistake. No. He definitely isn't. "I mean—the civilians will be watching, so it's better to be safe than sorry."
"Sure." Savitar's dot on the screen was moving slowly through the building. "Now all they have to stare at are the boiled red scars covering one half of my flesh. How's it going?" The last question was obviously directed mockingly to some patron of the bank; the monitors revealed a heat signature he was passing by. To Caitlin he added, in a guttural tone, "Low profile."
Caitlin rolled her eyes. Then they were caught by something thick, a bright group of colors, on the scanner. "There's a massive heat source on the second floor. It can't be anyone else—he's up by the vaults. Don't change into the suit yet," she continued quickly. "I think your best bet with the cuffs is to try and catch him by surprise."
"Is there a mission coming up where I get to make the plan?" Savitar growled, his mark on the screen moving steadily, at regular speed, to the second floor. He definitely sounded like he was ascending stairs. "Or do you get off on bossing everything with a pulse?"
Caitlin considered that one. "Yes."
Savitar pressed his side against the nearest pillar. The smell from the coffee machine on the first floor filled the building; at 6:30 AM the bankers didn't put up with much until they got their caffeine. Customers were already bustling up and down the busy area, all in nice outfits, heels clicking, briefcases slapping against thighs. Savitar, in his dark jacket and jeans, probably would have stood out even without the scars. No one seemed to notice him, however, as he ducked out of sight. The power-dampening cuffs were warm in his pocket; the ring encasing his suit gleamed distractingly. He was near one of those old school green desk lamps, seated on a nearby table with pamphlets.
Mick Rory looked fidgety when he wasn't setting things ablaze. His eyes were nigh lifeless without the glow from his powers; he was scanning the rows of pristine vault doors, but he looked bored, as if he weren't actually searching for something specific. Savitar felt a creeping along his spine. He knew that look of disinterest, the slack way Rory's arms were hanging down.
"He's waiting for something," he breathed into the comms. Before Team Flash had stopped his paradox problem, Savitar had had no one to plot things out with. He wasn't sure that he liked the change, but now that he had it as an option, he seemed to use it instinctually.
"Like what?" his governess whispered back.
Whatever it was, Savitar wasn't waiting for it too. He had the cuffs. He had the element of surprise. There were maybe two other people on this particular level of the bank; he wouldn't even have too many eyes on him as he carried out the deed. And no one was within sight of him at the moment, behind that pillar. In the time it took to drop a handful of water, he'd changed into the speedster suit, ready to step out and seize the pyro.
"Freeze!"
But someone else beat him to it.
Savitar stopped just in time, not giving away his position as he heard the raspy voice coming from somewhere on the stairs; the balcony hid the intruder from view.
Rory turned, suddenly smiling. Finally, something fun was happening. "Freeze?" he repeated, delighted. His skin pulsed cherry red. "I don't do freeze."
Savitar tried so hard not to roll his one good eye.
A gun came into view around the bannister first, two strong, tan hands gripping it. "Surprised to see me?"
"Nah," Rory's voice was throaty. "To be honest I ain't given you much thought. Now look—you made me miss my cue, detective. This place'll burn late."
Detective. Savitar stretched out, just enough so that he could see further past the pillar. Rory's fingers acted as lighters, the glow from the flames reflecting off of the glass walls of the balcony.
Brandishing the gun, dressed up in the same kind of monkey suit the rest of the bank's clients could be seen in downstairs, was Eddie Thawne.
He was clean-shaven, and his hair was slightly darker here than it had been on Earth-1. Savitar had trained himself not to show emotion, least of all shock or pain, but seeing this particular boy in blue, alive and kicking, after so long...he didn't realize his breathing had quickened until Caitlin's voice made him pull backward, out of sight again.
"What is it? Who's there?"
"It's Eddie." The name tasted so foreign, Savitar licked his lips. "Eddie's here."
"Eddie?" Caitlin sounded distracted, as if thinking hard.
"Thawne," Savitar supplied. "He's got a gun on Rory."
"Eddie Thawne?" She was sure to wake Wally if she went on like that. "What does he think he's doing?"
"Playing hero," Savitar snorted, allowing one side of his mouth to curl up. "He's good at that."
"He can't know about Mick's metahuman abilities," Caitlin surmised, talking quickly. "He'll be unprepared—he'll get roasted!"
A huge ball of light soared through the air, blasting into the wall just a foot from the top of Eddie's head. Immediately, pandemonium could be heard below. Out of the corner of his eye Savitar could see people pushing for the double doors, the one or two civilians on the balcony shoving past Eddie to descend the stairs.
"I think he'll catch on," Savitar muttered.
"That was just a warning shot, pretty boy," Rory snarled. "Next time you'll lose your hair. What is it this time? Still trying to turn me in?"
"I never stopped," Eddie spat. His too-blue eyes were smoldering as he straightened back up from the crouch he'd dropped into. He didn't seem surprised by the super powers. "I've been tracking you down for months. But this?" He grinned, but there was no joy in it. "Going to the same bank? This was just a coincidence." His gun remained cocked. "Mick Rory," he said loudly, deliberately, "you're under arrest for the murder of former police captain David Singh."
Rory's head was tossed back with a bark of a laugh. "Same old song and dance, huh?" He stuck a thumb in his mouth, blowing out his cheeks, and it came away with a flame that caught his entire hand, eyes on Eddie the entire time. Casually, he let the hand rest on the bannister, melting the metal. "You read the papers, Thawne? They don't blame me for what happened to your captain, do they?"
Eddie's jaw was set, his hold on his gun too tight. He wasn't distracted by the oozing rail, focused solely on Heat Wave. "It was a frame job," he snarled. "You shot him that night."
"Maybe," Rory agreed, shrugging. He ran his tongue over his teeth. "You follow your orders. I follow mine."
With that, two long trails of fire reached out for the detective. Eddie rolled to the round, but the heat made the metal of his gun burn slightly orange and he let go of it, coming to a stop in the corner parallel to the top of the staircase.
"Dropped his gun," Savitar informed Snow. "Rory still hasn't seen me."
"Okay, he definitely can't take on a meta without a weapon," Caitlin exclaimed, fully focused, tone sharp. "Get him out of there before anything worse happens!"
"Do I have to?" Savitar sighed.
But before she could berate him, he had Eddie by the back of the jacket, racing from the building, only stopping when they were at least a block away. Eddie staggered when Savitar let go of him, catching his breath. He looked around, head whipping from side to side, and upon realizing where he wasn't he turned to stare at the speedster.
"What did you do?" Eddie panted. "I had him!"
It took him a second. Then he stepped backward halfway, mouth open.
"You're him. You're the—you're the shadow. The one on the news."
Savitar's body and vocal chords vibrated, ensuring Thawne wouldn't be able to pick him out of a crowd. You couldn't be too careful with a face like his. "And you're out of your depth," he told the detective.
"Take me back to the bank," Eddie ordered. He walked forward, unafraid of the speedster. "Take me back. You don't understand. Everything he's done—he can't get away this time!"
Savitar smirked. "He won't."
He was through the double doors in seconds, and Caitlin's voice interrupted the feeling of the wind and the lightning yet again. "You waste an awful lot of time on quips," she informed him.
"You waste time on everything else," Savitar retorted, "but you don't see me griping about it."
"Actually—"
Savitar met Rory on the first floor this time; the bank was deserted at this point. Rory was preparing to hurl a clump of fire at the front desk, but after using a good portion of the heat inside of him against Eddie, it seemed to be taking him longer than usual. His eyes were glued hungrily to the flame that was now the size of a basketball in his cupped hands, growing larger slowly.
Savitar dashed in front of him, the breeze in his wake extinguishing Heat Wave's fire.
Rory scowled, looking around for the source, but Savitar was too quick and he returned to his palms, starting over.
WHOOSH!
No fire.
WHOOSH!
No fire for you.
That was too much for the pyro. Rory's hands curled into fists; after the fourth time, he whipped around, roaring, "Come out and face me like a man, freakshow! I know you're there!"
"So smart." Savitar punched him right across the mouth, savoring the movement so much that he tried the left hook too, just to get it out of his system.
"That's enough!" Caitlin warned. She must've hacked the security cameras again. She'd been doing this more often lately, and he pursed his lips, shaking his head slightly. Couldn't Mommy just try letting Junior out on his own without spying? But he drew away from Rory despite his irritation, energy still coursing through his chest and up his arms.
Blood gushed from between Rory's gritted teeth. "I chose not to burn you last time," he gurgled. "You won't be so lucky today." He lifted a flaming left hand, gearing up to toss.
Savitar, grinning, darted far to the right at the perfect moment—or it would've been, if Rory had actually thrown any fire.
Instead, he revealed Eddie's gun in his right hand, and the bullet went clean through the edge of an unprepared Savitar's left shoulder.
Savitar didn't cry out this time, but playing with Heat Wave was no longer on his Reminders app.
Click.
A staggering Savitar had the cuffs on the meta before the bullet that had sliced him landed on the ground. Rory looked down at his bound hands, confused, and noted the speedster standing, grimacing, beside him. Sneering, Heat Wave tried to melt the bonds, and Savitar heard Caitlin murmuring come on, Cisco before a full minute passed by without even the scent of smoke.
"Tell Cisco his toy paid off," Savitar wheezed into the comms. "See you in the Pipeline."
(I'm one of those fans who doesn't hate Iris West and believes Eddie Thawne deserved better. Oh, also, ScareBare may or may not have actually liked Cait's bedhead. We just don't know. And I'm not gonna elaborate on it from his POV. See you guys tomorrow! -Doverstar)