(Sorry this is shorter, guys! Sleep and I are not friends anymore. -Doverstar)
It was late afternoon on Earth-66 when Savitar began his rounds of the city. The streets were slightly wet with the rain that had drizzled early that morning, and the air smelled cold. So far there hadn't been any criminals to subdue, no car crashes, no muggers, no broken bones of any kind. Everything was quiet—or as quiet as a bustling metropolis could be on a weekend. Another boring day in the copy of the Central City he remembered, with no job and a face that was only safe to be seen in S.T.A.R. Labs.
"Savitar!"
There was one silver lining, however. A bossy silver lining.
He turned a corner. "What is it, Caitlin?"
"I just patched into the local police band. There's a hostage situation in a small bank on the East side. Get down there!"
"Lucky me." Savitar slid to a stop. "Which way is that from here?"
"Head up three blocks and take a right. Then keep going straight. It'll be on your left, across the street from the mall—"
"Here." He heard her let out a puff of air, exasperated. She underestimated him. Ironic.
Savitar had not switched off his comms during a mission since the day Caitlin had swallowed a bit of Kyle Nimbus. She didn't mention this change of pace, and he preferred it that way. He was becoming a little more accustomed to her commentary, her direction, when he was out and about doing the hero thing. There was less of a the usual charge coursing through him, urging him to start a dispute between them, and she was less prone to lectures. Something was obviously different, and though he wasn't interested in diving into the how and why, he wasn't complaining.
"Heat sensors indicate that everyone's at the back of the building," Caitlin reported in his ear.
Savitar gave the bank a good once-over. It was definitely small, half the size of the one downtown. Outside, there were police cars creating a barrier to the rest of the world, cordoning off the section of the street that held the threat. It was overcast; the flashing blue and red lights were even more obnoxious without the sunshine to drown them out.
A voice rose above the chatter and the orders. A blonde head could be seen past the cars.
"We've already tried negotiating. She's not taking it anymore. I know the protocol, sir—no. No sir, we've gotta go in. There're too many civilians at risk, the longer we wait..."
Eddie Thawne was on his two-way radio, eyebrows furrowed. Clearly he was acting as Crisis Response Team leader here. He seemed to be sweating slightly, and one hand was on his hip. Definitely stressed. He turned his back to the bank and caught sight of Savitar, who was vibrating several yards away, taking in the scene.
Eddie's face slackened. He said something quietly into the radio and pocketed it in a hurry. Savitar stood there a moment longer, looking at that weary face he had once recognized as a friend. Alive, breathing. For Barry Allen, it had been two years since he'd seen Eddie Thawne, since he'd seen Joe's partner, the most selfless man he knew. For Savitar, it had been eons.
You would think he'd feel sad, seeing Eddie. Or pleased, shocked, happy to note that at least on this Earth, the best of the Thawne bloodline wasn't gone forever. You'd be wrong.
No, Savitar was so accustomed to bitterness. Eddie was an old friend, but pain was an older one. Therefore the first feeling he had when they locked eyes was a wave of disgust. He remembered watching Eddie swoop in, just suddenly always there after waking up from the coma, in what was supposed to be his life, his family. His Iris West. Eddie had been an interruption for most of the time they had known each other—part obstacle, part ally, fully unnecessary in Savitar's eyes. Looking back, all he could think was that Eddie had only been good for getting rid of the Reverse Flash. He wasn't supposed to marry Iris, wasn't supposed to know the Flash, wasn't supposed to be much of anything at all, so his death was inevitable and convenient for everyone. Everyone except, of course, Eddie himself.
But then, Savitar knew what it was like to be thrown aside, to be a disposable hero. So those wretched thoughts drained out of him almost as soon as they flitted in, which had never really happened to him before. He tried to look at Thawne and see a clean slate—not Earth-1's dearly departed golden boy, but Earth-66's detective.
And right now, Earth-66's detective had a big problem—one that was easily fixed, actually. If you were fast enough.
It was all a blur of his senses. The smell of the wet asphalt, shoulder brushing past Eddie, hand on the glass as he pushed through the double doors, grabbing one hostage—a middle-aged man in a suit—and delivering him outside before doing it over again. One by one, all twelve hostages were in the safe zone, behind the barricade of cars and armed officers.
"How many of these heat signatures belong to the actual criminal?" Caitlin cut into his running time; she must be watching him deposit the little red dots outside the building.
"Looks like there's only one," Savitar replied, coming to a halt inside the bank, now emptied of the innocent.
The perp heard him, turning with a swish of honey-colored hair. She was wearing long gloves made of strange, metallic material. And dressed in all black, save a glittering, golden belt around her waist. She smirked when she saw him.
"They said you were real," Lisa Snart greeted him, raising her eyebrows. "I told them I wouldn't believe it till I saw you for myself. It is you, isn't it? You're the funny little shadow stealing our spotlight? You put my pathetic big brother in prison for that museum escapade?" She clicked her tongue. "Lenny always was riding my coattails. I'm surprised he met you before I did." She was whining now.
Here was a cute change of pace. A female culprit. Somehow hostage-holding was something one typically associated with rough, burly males in ski masks. Didn't make her any less of a threat, especially given the identity of this particular female culprit. Earth-66 or no, no one in the Snart family should be underestimated.
Unless you were the God of Speed, and you had dealt with much worse, much more formidable, than the baby sister of a dry-witted Legend. Savitar went on vibrating, not deigning to respond, but a little intrigued to see her.
Caitlin's voice, in comparison to Lisa's, was very much like the first sip of cool water after eating a spoonful of peanut butter. "What's going on? You stopped."
"Shame on me for being the only Doubting Thomas, hmm?" Lisa went on, smirking, and he didn't respond to Snow. "Tall? Check. Dark? Check." She began moving toward him cautiously. "Now if you'd quit with the little buzzing act, we could have handsome marked off and get the complete set."
Her simpering drawl was getting old. Savitar smirked back. "Guess you'll be taking my word for it," he retorted, vocal chords distorting his voice.
"Oh, no, I think I'll know for sure in just a sec."
It happened in slow motion for him. Her hand went to her pocket, pulled out a simple pistol. Savitar heard the shot ring out, but by the time the sound had diminished, he was behind her, viciously kicking her legs out from under her. Her weapon flew from her hand, and he wasted no time snatching it up before it could drop even another inch.
Lisa hit the tile floor with what sounded like a good, bruising thunk. She winced, flipping over, crouching to stand, but when she caught sight of the pistol pointed in her direction, she froze.
A flirty, intrigued smile flickered. "Did you just hit a girl?"
"I'm a bad boy." He cocked the weapon lazily. "Gotta say, this wasn't the best plan—I've had a lot practice dodging bullets this month."
"Third time's the charm," came Caitlin's dry voice in his ear. He tilted his head in response, an admission of a gesture, pursing his lips.
"I heard you were fast," Lisa chuckled, rising to a standing position at last, palms out. "But I didn't think they meant that fast. You stole my little toy before I even got up. Why use a gun when you could just take me out in a flash?" She snapped her fingers.
Savitar grunted. "Trying to stay on theme."
This only seemed to make her giddier. "What should I call you?"
"How 'bout annoyed? Stop talking." That sneer in her tone was getting unbearable.
She didn't stop talking. Why was he surrounded by women who didn't shut up? Her long, gold nails clicked when she gestured with her hands.
"You just love to spoil our fun, don't you?" Lisa pouted. "I'm not allowed to make this city a little more exciting? That's all we're supposed to do. But you, you're everywhere, getting into our business. Meddling. I was wondering if you'd show up on my first run, I mean—you stopped to chat with the others, right? Started with Lenny, then poor old Rory..."
So she was with them. One big group. Heat Wave, the Mist. Now Golden Glider. Caitlin had told him her suspicions, that they'd stumbled upon something larger than just a rogue or two. This changed things. He had intended to hand her over to Eddie and his locked and loaded groupies, speed away and maybe get some lunch, but that might not be the wisest plan just yet. Everyone knows villains love to monologue. Maybe he should give her a chance to talk too much.
"And then Nimbus paid you a visit, didn't he? Really stinks up the joint, can't take him anywhere," Lisa continued. She pasted on the expression one wore when bumping into an acquaintance at the grocery store and making polite conversation. "That reminds me! Your girlfriend—the nurse, right? How is she?"
Savitar's finger slid onto the trigger, ceasing to vibrate.
Lisa's smile got wider. "Kyle told me all about it. Have you picked out the headstone yet?"
Chance over. Something red twitched in his brain. Speed wasn't necessary here. Savitar aimed the gun.
"Stop, do not shoot her!"
Caitlin. The red writhed, then flickered out. She must have hacked into the bank's security cameras at last, seeing what was actually going on, who he was dealing with. Savitar felt the bloodlust roaring in his ears die down to the usual growl, and he started up the vibrating again. Lisa watched him, looking curious, just a little confused at his obvious indecision.
"She's just trying to rile you up," Caitlin went on firmly. "She wants to distract you. You can't see it from your angle, but I tapped into the west corner's security feed, and Lisa has another gun strapped to her belt. It's—it's a revolver. About 2.16 inches long."
Savitar shook his head slightly, impressed. And a little envious. A weapon that small could be useful, and clearly easy to hide. "Nice try," he spat to Lisa.
A twist of yellow energy swarmed around Snart, and Savitar had confiscated both her weapons, taking her outside and shoving her to the wet ground at Eddie Thawne's feet, borrowing a pair of handcuffs along the way.
Eddie, face the perfect picture of bewilderment, recovered long enough to yank the young woman up and restrain her. He peered at Savitar, who had paused to let go of Lisa, image still distorted.
"Thanks," Eddie breathed out, clearly too surprised to be very articulate.
Savitar didn't respond, turning and racing from the barricaded area, back onto the streets. But Caitlin's voice made him halt a few yards away from the bank.
"I'm picking up an odd reading from your suit. Come back to S.T.A.R. Labs so I—"
"Wait!"
Eddie. Savitar whipped around as Thawne crossed the street to meet him. His palms tingled.
"Go back to your team, Detective," Savitar ordered, leaning backward involuntarily.
Eddie shook his head, breathing a little quicker from the jog it had taken to catch up to the speedster. He had been holding his two-way radio and slid it into his belt as he reached Savitar. His eyes were wide, and a little desperate, and the way he carried himself, you'd think he was approaching a wild animal.
"You remember me," Eddie said, sounding a little stunned.
"You're the guy who got in my way," Savitar conceded, trying to control his tone. He didn't need Eddie's interventions, his questions. He didn't need an interaction at all. And there wasn't anything Eddie wanted that he could give. This was a waste of time.
"We both seem to like bank cases, that's for sure," Eddie added, offering a friendly smile. "That was incredible—what you just did. It could've been messy without—"
"What do you want?" Savitar cut him off.
Eddie's smile froze. "I need your help."
Savitar shook his head. "Whatever it is, you can take care of it yourself. I'm not for sale, Detective."
"Savitar," Caitlin cut in sharply. "I need you back here."
Savitar flexed his fingers; they were feeling tingly too. He was antsy to get running again. But Eddie held out a hand, urging him to stay.
"Rory," Eddie explained, talking quickly. "Mick Rory, the perp, the one you caught last time. What did you do with him?" His voice grew hard, steady. "I just need to know where he is."
Savitar paused, taking in Eddie's countenance. The other man was bent almost double, as if becoming smaller might keep the speedster from racing off. His tone was low and urgent. Whatever this thing was about Rory, it was extremely important to Thawne. Savitar had seen that look before, eyes that were strained and pleading. He'd seen it in himself, more than once, back when he was Barry. Back when he allowed himself to show any desperation physically, when his emotions weren't chained down.
"I didn't," Savitar replied crushingly. He uncurled his fingers, letting the cool air hit them, slightly distracted. "He got away."
Eddie's eyebrows drew together. He straightened, forgetting his no sudden movements posture. "What?"
"Now, Savitar!" There was Caitlin again.
"How did he get past you?" Eddie demanded. "You just—you just cleared a building in seconds!"
Was he actually angry? After the speedster had done his job for him? Savitar turned, rolling his eyes. Eddie Thawne, resident Taker. Enough was never enough, Earth-1 or Earth-66. He wasn't about to explain the Pipeline incident, or what had happened to Doctor Snow on his watch, or anything, really. Eddie didn't need to know; he wasn't entitled to the information, to all the facts. Catching Rory was now Savitar's job. And the former God of Speed had no desire to continue the conversation.
"I was busy," He tossed over a shoulder.
With that passing, nonchalant jibe, he sped away, back into the heart of the city, leaving Eddie to stand on the side of the street and stare uncomprehendingly after him.
By the time he reached S.T.A.R. Labs—and it only took him about twelve minutes—Savitar's hands felt like they were on fire.
Something odd about his suit. Right.
He went straight to his quarters, the gloves of his costume smoking. Savitar changed into his civilian clothes, thinking that the removal of the hero outfit would fix the problem, but no such luck. His palms were bright pink and blistered, and the tinge was creeping down his wrists, too. He gritted his teeth. It was like a bee sting, only a million times worse, and on both hands.
He remembered being burned after cooking pancakes for the first time when he was fourteen. He remembered wearing a blue tee shirt and carrying the pan to the dining room table to serve Joe a homemade breakfast, only to lose footing and clumsily, slowly try to rectify the mistake by catching the bottom of the pan with his hands. Big mistake. Of course, he'd let go of it a second after, but by then there was enough damage to be a distraction for about a week. Joe had run cold water over his palms every night—it was only then that the stinging officially stopped.
This was not some kitchen-catastrophe burn. This was something a little more deadly. Blisters, small and scorching, in between his fingers and across the backs of his hands. Savitar winced, thinking fast. Cold water wouldn't help. Luckily he knew of something colder.
He was in the Cortex half a second later, ceasing to run once he reached the entrance and walking a few urgent steps inside, glancing around. "Caitlin!" he shouted.
"One second!" She was up on the dais to the left, behind the glass demonstration board, fiddling with a few beakers and liquids he didn't recognize. She must have brought them from Earth-1. Calling without turning around or even standing up straight, she added, "I'm—"
Savitar was at her side before she'd finished.
"—coming," Caitlin finished, trailing off quickly when she felt him accidentally nudge her upon halting. "So the scanners—stop, what are you doing?"
Savitar had taken her by the arm and pulled her around hard so that she was facing him. "Give me your hands."
"What?"
"Both of them, now!" He didn't wait for her to obey. He reached over and plucked an empty test tube from her right hand and grabbed it, lacing fingers with her. He did the same thing again with her free hand.
True to her altered genetics, her hands were abnormally chilled. She must be so used to it by now. Even with her silly little necklace, her powers were so ingrained into her DNA that her very skin was pulsing with abilities just as sharp as his own. Frigid digits, fingernails like metal railings in the winter wind. He wondered briefly, in the back of his mind, if her arms, her nose, basically if the rest of her was just as constantly icy as her hands were. She must have the coldest feet on the planet.
Caitlin, concerned, confused, and certainly a little uncomfortable, looked down at their locked hands. "Savitar?"
Savitar squeezed his eyes shut, wincing still, letting the cold press against his throbbing palms. Not only did it help with the pain, just for a second, but he had not held someone's hands in—well, technically he had never done it before. And if you were going by recent statistics, he hadn't actually been physically touched since four days ago, when Caitlin had held his shoulder for a moment after she'd survived Nimbus' attack. Her hands were freezing, yes, and on the surface that soothed whatever was going on with his, but deeper in, he was feeling a pulse of heat from being held at all.
Killer Frost palms. But he could swear Caitlin's touch—now, and on the night she'd thanked him for saving her life—had pushed a long-forgotten warmth through his entire body. He remembered that feeling, it was jarring. When he'd been Barry Allen, once upon a time, everyone touched him. Joe's arm around his shoulders, Iris' kiss on his cheek, Cisco's fist bumps, Wally's hugs. Caitlin's hand on his shoulder, or his arm, or his back. But he hadn't been Barry Allen in centuries, and Caitlin tugging on his sleeve and resting her cold palm on his shoulder had sent him so many memories that night, so much heat, he thought he'd be the one struggling to breathe on that gurney next.
"Savitar, what is it?" Caitlin, voice tight, ripped her hands away, startled by his silence, his lack of explanation.
The stinging flooded back in, all at once, worse than before as her cold retracted. So he wasn't interested in explanations until the stinging subsided.
"Don't—" He grabbed at least one of her hands once more, using his speed, accidentally sending a little spark of Speed Force lightning up her wrist. She didn't let him have the other one, preoccupying it with a beaker on the table beside them.
Caitlin tugged the hand he held up to her eyeline, turning both their arms over so that she could get a glimpse of his palms. "It was the suit," she realized, glancing up at him. He saw she was wearing goggles, a mask to protect her face while dealing with chemicals. Had she been wearing it when he came in? A few of her bangs were caught inside.
She got out of his grip again and turned her full attention to the table, babbling. "I noticed something off about your suit on the scanners, after you stopped Lisa Snart? There was an unknown, potentially acidic substance on your gloves—"
"Caitlin—" Savitar came right up behind her, needing her hands to stop the stinging, but she wasn't turning around and she wasn't offering them. The blisters had covered his wrists by now.
"—and it's sunk into your skin, see how your hands are dry? That's why it hasn't affected me after you touched me. Right before you got back, I ran a few names through a filter and I was right. I recognized some of the components, but it's really a custom cocktail: completely made up, something specific. That was why she was wearing those gloves. They were made from a certain kind of material; I'll bet it's resistant."
"Caitlin, give—"
"I think Lisa coated her weapons with this substance to keep thieves from stealing them." Caitlin was mixing something now, using both hands very inconsiderately. "Trust a crook to think like a crook, right? I thought if I—"
He snatched her right hand as soon as it set a test tube down, and she turned finally, frustrated.
"Savitar, I am trying to fix the problem!"
"Me too." Savitar held their hands up together, waving them in her face. "So hold still."
"I need both hands to mix an antidote," She said, slowly, as if she were speaking to a child.
Savitar glared down at her. He could see his reflection in her goggles, an expression of scorn plastered onto his face. "I'm not holding your hands because I want to, I'm holding your hands because they're cold, and I need that cold to sterilize the effects."
"I know that."
"So hold still."
Caitlin rolled her eyes so far back, so quickly, it seemed possible they might roll right out of her skull. "Look, if I don't mix the antidote with both hands, you're going to be going on missions for the rest of your life with extra baggage from now on." She pointed, underhand, to their attached limbs. "Me."
Savitar leaned his head back. "What do you want me to do like this until you're done?"
"Just—ride it out!" Caitlin huffed, wrenching away from him and going back to her chemicals. "You're supposed to be a god. I'm sorry, I thought those were made of tougher stuff."
Savitar scoffed and shook his head, hopping up to sit on the table beside the space she was working at. He held his hands out gingerly, turning them over. All he could do was watch the red climb his forearms, pulling his jacket sleeves up with a grimace to examine the damage.
Caitlin worked steadily for the next ten minutes, mixing, heating, pouring. Meanwhile, Savitar was ready to bet money that his hands were going to simply melt off of his arms. The stinging was nauseating. When she was nearly finished, she pulled the goggles down so they were hanging around her neck, and Savitar thought they looked a little big for her now that she wasn't wearing them.
Caitlin brandished a long needle, ready to inject the antidote into his system. "Now, I'm not sure this is exactly the right mixture, but I made sure the only side effect could be things like dizziness, or high levels of stress—"
"Oh no, not stress," Savitar hissed under his breath, turning his boiling hands over.
"—but basically it should work."
She paused to glance at him, to see if he was ready for the injection. Savitar looked back at her, eyes screwed up due to the pain. The needle glinted in the artificial light, long and intimidating.
Caitlin reached over and took his right hand; it was the left arm that would receive the needle first. Cold and warmth shot up and down his whole body and the stinging left that particular side. "Don't worry, I'll do it so fast you won't feel a thing."
"I'm not worried," he mumbled, watching her.
She offered a little smile at that, tentative, and stabbed his arm.
Slowly, the red started to fade, creeping back down to his wrists and out to the tips of his fingers. The blisters remained, but the stinging, in tune with his heartbeat, began to subside. At a snail's pace, unfortunately, but at least it was clearly leaving.
"How do you feel?" Caitlin demanded, though she had seen the results herself. "Dizzy?"
Savitar felt her hand tighten in his. It transported him back to Earth-1, back home, back when he was Barry. Barry and Caitlin, at it again. It had been forever. "Yeah," he croaked, watching the last of the red leave his left hand.
Caitlin, all-business, moved on to the other one, letting go of it. "It should go away soon I told you, it's just a side effect." She refilled the phial the needle was attached to, holding it aloft. "Ready?" She raised her eyebrows.
Savitar nodded, felt the warring heat and ice her hand had left in his drop away as she let go. "Do it," he muttered, ready to get out of this room.
When both hands seemed to be going pale again, returning to normal, he flexed his fingers, sliding off of the table into a standing position. Caitlin watched him, ever the physician, tracking his every movement.
"We'll have to be on the lookout for things like that next time," she sighed. "Or have Cisco build you a whole new suit." She took hold of one of his fingers, lifting his hand up. "Let me see..."
Savitar closed his eyes briefly, almost annoyed. "Caitlin, the pain's gone. It's fixed."
"I need to make sure the blisters are cleared, the blood vessels are the right color..." She must have continued the list in her head; she trailed off, squinting at his palm.
"Are you planning on reading my fortune?" Savitar droned.
Caitlin shook her head, ignoring his sarcasm. "You are good to go." She dropped his hand, finally, and he was free. Savitar shuffled to the doorway of the Cortex. He could feel her eyes on him as he moved. "Where are you going?"
Savitar didn't turn around. "Think I'm gonna go lie down." He slid his hands protectively into his pockets. "Still dizzy."
(Next chapter coming soon! PLEASE don't forget that I love detailed reviews. I want all your thoughts. ALL of them. -Doverstar)