(Author's Note: Probably can't update tomorrow, friends, as I'll be at work all day long, but I'll do my best to write more tonight. Enjoy this while you wait? Love you, Jell-O Squares. -Doverstar)

When Caitlin arrived back on Earth-66, Cisco had accidentally opened the breach in the old parking lot outside S.T.A.R. Labs, not in her room the way he had when she'd left. It was a slow walk inside with the odd vacuum attached to her back, but she was less concerned with this First World Problem than she was with the fact that Savitar was not right there when she came in. In a moment of nerves she wondered if he'd abandoned their cause because she'd left—then she decided he wouldn't care quite that much. She still needed to look for him, though.

Caitlin deposited the vacuum in the engineering room. It seemed fitting to leave it on the worktable of this world's late Cisco Ramon, though she was careful not to set it down on the Kirk bobblehead. When that burden was lifted, she made her way to the Cortex first, expecting to see the speedster on one knee in a corner somewhere, fixing up another piece of equipment, something he did when he wasn't running. It was a long job, restoring the entirety of the building to its former glory. But he wasn't there.

Next she walked up and down the corridors, thinking she'd run into him there. No such luck. The Pipeline was Savitar-free as well, and though she was sick of rushing around the building at this point, Caitlin did like to think she was getting a good amount of exercise, doing this. S.T.A.R. Labs was an enormous facility.

He wasn't in the med bay.

He wasn't in the basement.

He wasn't in her room, either. Though she couldn't find any reason for him to be in any of these places, he was as unpredictable as his counterpart, so technically it was possible, if unlikely. There was also a small niggling portion of her brain told her that if she didn't check this one area now, she'd go crazy thinking that was where he must be after deducing that everywhere else was wrong, and have to hurry there later, only to discover this whole search could've been avoided if she'd been absolutely thorough. It was a lot like looking for a phone you'd misplaced, actually.

Her room was a short walk from his room, and it seemed foolish that this should be the last place she looked.

There he was, of course. Passed out completely on the cot, clothes on, not even donning the blankets. He was sleeping with his torso on the bed, but with his legs hanging off. Caitlin immediately stiffened, not wanting to wake him just yet. At least he was here.

Something caught her eye. She turned, examining the small metal table up against the wall. On it were several odd, electronic pieces that looked like tools. He must have brought them with him from Earth-1—either that, or the engineers who had once worked at this version of S.T.A.R. Labs had developed some brilliant new way of tinkering. There were a few recognizable items—nuts and bolts, for example, and one screwdriver. But apart from that, Caitlin couldn't make out what Savitar had been doing with these little pieces of metal and strange devices. He had built his own armor once—and Barry was far more intelligent than he let on. This seemed to be another of Savitar's time-passing hobbies; she was loathe to reach over and touch anything lest it backfire on her.

Caitlin turned to leave the room, but it struck her how odd it was that Savitar made no noise in his sleep. He wasn't tossing and turning, he wasn't curled in on himself, he seemed to be barely breathing. But she could tell he was fine—his chest did rise and fall. It just did so very slowly, the long way one breathes when they are very deeply asleep. No nightmares? she wondered, slightly hopeful for him.

When he was unconscious, his face relaxed. That wasn't to say he looked peaceful—even his resting expression seemed painted with unhappiness. Barry smiled so often. He felt things at a ten, always. To see his face this way, not only wrapped in scars but echoing a certain kind of heartache, was sobering to Caitlin. She wanted to fix everything, including him, no matter how insufferable he could be. Savitar had been through things that had hurt him so much, it was permanently laid over him, even while he slept.

Suddenly, leaving for Earth-1 without waiting for him to reappear, telling him when she'd be back, seemed uncharacteristically thoughtless. How could she have dismissed him like that? Wasn't that treating him just as poorly as he treated everyone else? She'd told him they were friends. She'd told Barry she would try, she would try to make a life for him here.

Watching him sleep, seeing him without the sneers and the clipped words and the careless body language...Caitlin's heart softened. Barry was still somewhere in there. She had to help him, get him out of the misery and the shadows. Make him better. Isn't that what doctors do?

Then the fingers on his left hand twitched. Just for a moment. They vibrated, thumb first, then pinky, then the rest, all in a split second. Caitlin had seen his Earth-1 duplicate do the exact same thing, more than once, when he was asleep on the examination table after missions. It was one of those Barry Allen things, indicative to him. She almost smiled.

He'd be hungry when he woke up. She could definitely do something about that, at least.

She only had enough cash on her at the moment to get a single meal from Big Belly Burger, and Savitar was still sleeping when she came back. In the same position. She tilted her head, entering the room. She had expected him to be awake, or more likely gone. Running through the city somewhere. But no, he was still snoozing on his cot, oblivious to the world. Maybe that was a good thing for him.

Caitlin left the food on the metal table, with a last glance at all his tools. She couldn't see any finished—or even progressing—project, just the means to make one. The table was still covered in quite a bit of dust. It made sense that someone who spent so little time in the room wouldn't feel the need to tidy it up, but it bothered her—she had long ago admitted to being something of a neat freak. But it was his space, and she wasn't about to alter it. That was part of what might finally make this place seem like home to him: his own way of doing things.

His own way of doing things. Maybe she was being a bit bossy. Well, bossier.

He'd eat when he got up. Meanwhile, she'd go and unpack. Time to get back to work.

"I find it difficult to believe that a man who can change his molecular structure to that of a, a fluorescent green cloud has not been caught on camera at least once in the past three years!"

Caitlin, eyes on the screen of her favorite computer in the Cortex, agreed distractedly, "It doesn't make sense, I know. You would think there was at least one crazy blog online, or a video..." She was scanning lists of different types of gas used to kill; it had been an hour since she'd returned from Big Belly Burger and had thought that after unpacking, the best use of her time would be to contact Stein and continue their research on Nimbus. "Professor, I'm not getting anything close to the kind of gas I've seen him create."

Stein's voice in her bluetooth earpiece sounded tight, frustrated. "Yes, well, if color is all we have to go on, we might as well throw in the towel now, as the saying goes. We can't produce evidence against him if we can't even find him, Miss Snow, never mind deciphering his abilities and curing my wife."

Caitlin paused in her search, biting her lip. "We're gonna keep trying. You've been doing this alone for three years, Professor, and you haven't given up yet. Now you have someone to help you. There's nowhere to go but up."

"Sound logic," Stein admitted, and she could hear the clicking of his laptop's keyboard in the background; he must be at his offices. "I only wish my emotions were more in tune with my mind."

"It takes practice," Caitlin told him, amused. "I'll let you know if I find anything new."

"And—what about your speedy friend?" Stein suddenly cut in, just as she was about to hang up. "Has he had any more luck than you or I?"

Caitlin pursed her lips. "I don't think so. He's looked, but..."

"I see." Martin sighed, very short, very quiet. "Well, if anyone can find him, I daresay it will be...Savitar." He always said the name in a sort of hushed way, a mix between reluctance and awe. Reluctance because he was not fully in favor of the title, though he had conceded it fit the speedster's abilities, and awe because—well, that was obvious.

"Let's hope so," Caitlin muttered under her breath. "I'll catch up with you later, Professor."

"Yes, yes—of course—good talking to you as usual, Miss Snow. Oh! Er—our usual rendezvous for caffeine and criminal investigation is still on for tomorrow, I presume?"

She grinned. "I'll be there."

Once Stein had hung up, Caitlin sat back in her chair, sighing hard enough to blow her hair out of her face. She felt she had been staring at one too many screens, solving one too many problems. She may not be speeding around the city or pulling heavy, frightened bodies from a burning building, but the mind could be drained just as much as the body. Savitar wasn't the only one able to wear himself down.

FWOOSH!

An empty, wrinkled Big Belly Burger bag flew into her lap.

Caitlin's head shot up and she sat straight-backed, startled. "You're awake!"

Savitar's eyes held heavy bags beneath them, and his hair was slightly softer than usual, a little messy. There were corduroy lines on the backs of his hands from the bedsheets. He looked at her with half-closed eyes, the barest cloud of any emotion drifting over him.

When he didn't say anything, Caitlin nervously went on, "Cisco came through. He made something that can—"

"Is that your idea of an apology?" Savitar interrupted, sounding almost curious, voice low and tired. He nodded to the Big Belly Burger bag.

Caitlin looked down at it, blinking a few times. She glanced back up at him, taking a moment to form any words. "Sort of," she mumbled uncomfortably.

He simply nodded, mouth taut, watching her with the same squint Leonard Snart used on a daily basis. Something intelligent and interested, but not easily opened.

"I should have waited until you came back," Caitlin explained, turning her palms up.

Savitar snorted, head rearing. "Why?"

She felt her nose scrunching up. "Because—because it was wrong? To leave, I mean, without saying goodbye."

Savitar raised his eyebrows, eyes flicking to her nose and then to the ceiling, shrugging with his hands in his jacket pockets, so that the sides of it flapped out with his hands. "I don't need a goodbye, Doctor Snow." He said it as if she were being such a silly little girl, a waste of time, go play outside.

Doctor Snow. Nope. No, they were not going back to Square One. It hadn't quite been a big enough argument for that. But leaving without telling him—that must be what he was acting off of. They argued every day since they'd come here. It was like the first year with Barry, learning one another, clashing, trying. Only worse, because this time one of them actually relished the anger. She was learning Savitar too, analyzing, gathering data. The Barry that was rejected, the one trodden upon and cast into the Speed Force, alone for eternity and coming back to a group too afraid and furious to draw nearer than a Hammond Cuff. She was tentatively sure of what might work here and what might not, what might backfire there and what might send them forward. The only way to ensure a positive result was to carry out an experiment in confidence.

Caitlin set the empty bag on the white, winding desk and moved around it, approaching him, keeping eye contact. Savitar's gaze followed her every step, still narrowed and detached. Still curious.

Her fingers curled into her palms, arms swinging a little. "I mean it. I was being petty," she added with a soft chuckle, embarrassed, "and it won't happen again."

"Ohh," Savitar tilted his head back, scoffing very quietly. Then he leaned down. "Am I supposed to say, thanks, Cait?" His voice had dropped to a taunting near-whisper, and he made sure to drop out the usual deadpan. Sure to sound just like the original."I forgive you, Cait. No worries."

Caitlin bit her lip, fighting to control the discomfort squirming in her gut at his spot-on imitation. "Something like that." He moved to turn to the side, sneering, so before she could think it over too much, she reached out and put a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry. I know I can be a bit—controlling," she huffed, rolling her eyes, "And I should've trusted you. You saved my life. It's the least I can do."

Savitar's whole frame had swung still the moment she laid her hand on him, just as she'd predicted. Calculations accurate. Symptoms of someone touch-starved, not producing enough oxytocin. Human beings, speedster or no, were created to need physical touch on some level, and Savitar simply wasn't familiar enough with it.

To see any Barry Allen as someone who was very rarely touched was a phenomenon to Caitlin—Barry was the equivalent of a walking sweater sometimes. Everyone on the team gave him hugs, everyone gave him high fives, fist bumps, ruffled his hair, nudged him, swatted him upside the head. He was one of those people who clearly loved to be embraced and held, to remind himself he wasn't alone. It was probably a trait passed down to him by his father, come to think of it, who had once told Caitlin he would always accept a hug. Hereditary. Savitar had memories of every physical reassurance Barry had experienced, but had spent ages without any of it.

So it stood to reason that a simple touch would gain his attention, access the parts of his brain and emotions that he was blatantly ignoring during this conversation.

His eyes closed upon impact, but after a second slid open again. They shot down to her hand and then back to her face. An accurate diagnosis. "I said I'd keep you safe," Savitar murmured.

"I know. I believe you."

"No," he said, louder, shaking his head. He took one half-step backward; it was all he needed to remove her hand. He almost sounded exasperated, as if he were trying to convince her. "No, you don't."

"I do," Caitlin insisted, fingers curling back in. "I'll prove it to you." She went back around to the keyboard, pressing a few keys, clicking a few times. A sound like the unplugging of a vacuum cleaner filled the building, just for a moment. She straightened triumphantly. "There. I just turned off the alarm Cisco helped me install before I left."

Savitar's mouth pursed, but it was very close to a smile. Not a pleased smile, more like an amused, unimpressed sort of smile.

"Not enough?" Caitlin went to the other keyboard, opening the building's system preferences and tapping the spacebar twice. "How about the security cameras?"

"Caitlin."

"I can unlock my bedroom door from here too, it's as simple as—"

Suddenly his hand was on hers, shoving it away from the keyboard. She looked up at him, surprised. "See," he murmured, clicking his tongue, cocking his head, squinting one eye."Now you're just being kinda stupid."

"No," Caitlin insisted, not moving away, encouraged, "but I was. I should know better than anyone that trust goes both ways. You trusted me enough to let me come here, you trusted me enough not to become Killer Frost, now it's my turn to trust you."

Savitar raised his eyebrows. The only sound in the room was the whirring of the computers.

After a moment, Caitlin said, watching his green eye, "Your line is, Thanks, Cait," in her best Barry Allen hush.

The tiniest of chortles escaped Savitar, out his nose, and he stood up straight, letting go of her hand. There was the quirk of a grin, Barry's not-going-to-laugh grin she loved so well, and he shook his head again, slower this time.

"Okay," he said, pushing his hand back into his pocket.

"Okay? We're good?" Caitlin checked, keeping her voice level.

Savitar rolled his eyes. "Sure, Caitlin. We're good." His tone was still throaty, sleepy. She smiled and stood again, but at the sudden movement he leaned away, turned toward the exit. Answering her inquiring look, he said, "I need a run."

"You don't have to go out and look for them," Caitlin quickly informed him, winding the heels of her hands. "Nimbus. And Rory. I told you, I'm really okay."

Savitar glanced at her over his shoulder, eyebrows arched. Then he flashed out of the building, scattering papers and throwing her hair back into her face.

Caitlin rolled her eyes, pulling her seat back up to the desk, reaching to throw the Big Belly Burger bag away. A noise inside, a weight she hadn't noticed, made her pause. She opened it, glancing inside.

Oh. He'd left her a full container of french fries.

Caitlin pulled one out, popping it whole into her mouth. It wasn't warm anymore, but Big Belly Burger fries were not the sort to get too chewy when they weren't fresh. As she ate, her mind drifted to her shadow of a friend. Thinking of him in that context still felt wobbly, but she was determined to use the word more often. Someone had to start.

Something about his posture, his eyes, made her mind whirl. There was a laboring, very slow and drained in it all. He looked wiped, to put it mildly. She wasn't an idiot. Time to check something.

She opened the security footage of the building, all rooms, from the past three days. Since she'd left. Caitlin was unsurprised to find that he hadn't been there much at all—no, the troubling thing was that he didn't seem to be there at night. During the entire course of her stay on Earth-1. He wasn't in S.T.A.R. Labs. Not his room, not the Cortex, the med bay, the Pipeline. Certainly nowhere with a bed.

Caitlin really went to town biting her lower lip. Her fingertips turned white against the mouse, clicking and clicking and dragging and swiveling. She tapped into the history of his suit's tracker, watching the little green circle signifying the speedster zoom all over the city, every night, all day. Barely ever returning to home base, only stopping for food once or twice in the span of 72 hours.

Snow shook her head slightly at the screen. Her fears were confirmed. Savitar had not slept in three days, and had hardly eaten anything either. And according to the current tracker on his suit—which was moving thirty meters slower than usual—he wasn't doing either one now. He was checking warehouses, basements, the outskirts of the city, all in minutes, moving, moving, moving. The footage of his room this evening showed that he had only been asleep when she found him because his body gave out on him. He'd apparently made the mistake of sitting down on the cot, just for a moment, and was soon dead to the world. And even that had only lasted an hour and a half, physically not enough. Caitlin heard herself sigh, loud and short.

Yes, she was a control freak. She was bossy, she was high-strung. But sometimes people needed that sort of energy in their lives. Such an influence kept them healthy. This was not healthy. And this last little jaunt was going to take a very big toll if she knew her stuff.

Savitar returned to the building in an hour's time, but when he reached it, the monitors told her he had reverted to a walk, not a run, and was now moving at a pace just below average through the corridors. She got up and went to meet him.

He seemed to be in the process of changing into his civilian clothes when she reached him; he was pulling his right arm through his jacket sleeve, fixing it over the Hammond Cuff, when she came around the corner. The dark circles beneath his eyes seemed more prominent now than before, and Caitlin's heart lurched and grew flinty around the edges to see them. Speaking of being stupid.

"Savitar," Caitlin said, before he could do anything, "you should rest."

Savitar stopped in front of her, looking down with a sand grain of intrigue. He smelled like rainclouds, which would have been distracting and probably counted as a compliment, if she weren't so unhappy with his recent habits. He'd been spending too many hours outside in the autumn wind. She saw for the first time that the whites of his eyes were tinged red—allergies still making an appearance, then. This did nothing to improve her concern.

"No thanks," he replied quietly, unblinking.

"You may have superhuman abilities," Caitlin said, trying to sound gentler than she felt, trying so hard not to be commanding, "but that doesn't protect you from exhaustion. You need your sleep. Your body burns too much energy not to recharge after a while."

Savitar rubbed an eye with the heel of his hand. "You've been..." He seemed to search for the word he wanted to say. Caitlin's eyes narrowed. Super speed did not have anything to do with sleep deprivation. The average person found conversation difficult, a chore, after having gone as long as he had without sleep. This just further confirmed it. At last he settled for, "...spying."

"And you've been looking for the metahumans," Caitlin countered. "You were right before, you do need a break. Take one."

But he grunted, shoulders bobbing a little. "Nnnah," Savitar rasped, sighing low and long. "Can't."

"Why not?"

"Ah, I...did something kind of dumb." A little crooked half-smile. "I promised."

Caitlin felt the air hiss out of her, guilt swamping her chest. "You do not have to find them tonight. You don't even have to find them this week, if it means you'll sleep."

Savitar tipped his head to one side, still staring at her. "Does it bother you that much?"

"Yes!"

He did smile then. "Oh," he said, raising his voice just a bit, "then I'm definitely not sleeping."

Caitlin scoffed. "Okay, now you're just being childish."

"Aw."

"You're sick," she continued, attempting to control her frustration. "You were practically staggering down this hallway. You can't function like this, speedster or not."

"I'm—" Savitar opened his mouth to speak, paused and thought for a moment, then finally said, "What's in it for me?"

"I'm sorry?"

"What—what do I get if I do what Mommy says?" Savitar folded his arms. His voice was rough, it sounded like his throat was bothering him. Caitlin nearly winced hearing it.

"How about a good night's sleep?" She offered dryly. "Not collapsing, not experiencing fatigue-induced hallucinations, actually living through the weekend?"

Savitar leaned his left shoulder against the wall lazily, arms still crossed. His eyelids drooped further and further, but he didn't seem to notice it. She saw his right hand shake just a little. "Sounds boring."

"Neither of us can do anything on this Earth to build you a real life if you're too tired to stand up. I mean, look at you!" Caitlin threw up her arms. Savitar did not seem daunted. She cleared her throat. "Okay—okay, make me a new promise."

Savitar had not looked away from her for the duration of the conversation, but here he squeezed his eyes shut for a split second, pinching the bridge of his nose. Barry had done that several times during Infantino Street, when they'd pulled that all-nighter on the Speed Force Bazooka. The similarity made her heart crack. "What?" he groaned.

"Make me a new promise. I got you your lunch. Time to pay me back."

Savitar let out a snort, eyes barely open now. "What is it?"

"Promise you'll sleep for a total of eight hours before you go back out again," Caitlin ordered, hands on hips.

"Eight hours." He made it sound like a ridiculous request. Savitar pushed himself up off of the wall, blinking rapidly at her. "And why should I do what you say?"

"Because I am your personal physician, therefore my word is law."

He sniffed, talking a little louder. "You're Barry's personal physician."

"Yes, I know," Caitlin huffed. "And by extension, biologically, that makes me yours too."

"My what?"

"What?"

"That makes you my what?" Savitar was getting louder; he pulled his arms out of their fold and let them hand loosely at his sides, bearing down on her as if impatient. This was getting ridiculous. Even Barry had slept between rebuilding Central City after the Singularity. Caitlin had never seen that face this tired.

"Your personal physician!" Caitlin repeated, realizing she had raised her own voice with his. She quieted down. "Sorry. Just—promise. Sleep for eight hours, that's all I want you to do."

Savitar shook his head. "No."

"Savitar." Caitlin took a step closer, trying to channel her own mother. Whenever Caitlin disagreed with something, talked back, Mrs. Snow was always advancing, and it seemed to make her daughter shrink. Savitar did not shrink. As a matter of fact, he barely moved an inch when she came nearer. "If you don't get some rest soon, your body is going to give out on you. Superhuman speed and an accelerated healing process can only do so much when you don't even give yourself fuel to keep running. That and the fact that you're fighting a head cold right now—it's too much all at once, you're no help like this."

Savitar raised his eyebrows. "Are you trying to put me to sleep right now?"

Caitlin turned on her heel. This was hopeless. He was hopeless. Prideful, antagonistic. She made a futile effort not to sound sharp, sighing, "I give up! You want to wear yourself to the ground, go ahead. But don't say I didn't warn you when you're passed out in a gutter somewhere."

She'd gotten about ten feet away before his reluctant, finally-serious voice caught up with her.

"I go to bed on one condition."

Caitlin tried not to look too eager to get her way, turning around slowly. "And what's that?"

WOOSH!

He had grabbed her hand, and in a heartbeat they were in his room. She was sitting on the stool by his metal table, and he was climbing into his cot.

"You have to stay—" He laid back, taking another second to search for the words, throat drier than ever, "—where I can see you."

Caitlin, indignant at being dragged her and plopped into a chair, stood up. "I don't know what you—"

"People who hop wormholes in the middle of the night without saying anything," Savitar grunted, arms behind his head, "don't make the rules when they get back."

Caitlin stuttered for a moment. He wanted her here so he could keep an eye on her? What, did he think she just skipped into other universes every night? He had the Flash's memories. He knew Cisco's vibes didn't come that easy. And besides, hadn't he seemed nonchalant over the whole thing earlier? Her experience told her this was lack of sleep talking; he wasn't devoting nearly as much time caring about what he said or how he said it as he usually would.

"I thought you didn't need a goodbye," Caitlin finally managed.

"That's right," Savitar rasped, closing his eyes. "This way you won't need to say it."

"This is not the—"

"Sit down, Caitlin."

She sat down. "I told you it wouldn't happen again."

"Good," Savitar spoke over her. "Quiet."

"What happens when I need to go to bed?" she scoffed.

But Savitar didn't respond. She craned her neck, watching him. He was fast asleep.

(Oh, fluff. That's enough, fluff. It's time to plot now. Time to plot, Self. Self is not listening, guys. Ugh. Next chapter coming soon! PLEASE give me all your thoughts, yes, I DO read all of your reviews. I especially loved yours on the last chapter, Z and Ally [since I can't respond to either one of you privately]. You two were SO sweet, and I absolutely adore those long, detailed reviews and reactions. That's the stuff that sets me write write writing! Thank you for taking the time to do that. Thanks for all the reviews, everyone! You guys are fantastic. Keep it coming. -Doverstar)