(Author's Note: Jell-O Squares? Are you alive? Are you ready to kill me yet...? Over a month of no updates. I'd kill me. I'M SO SORRY. Don't abandon me now, delightful readers, I've seen all of your reviews and I promise I have no intention of giving up on this monster story. Life has been crazy since that camp retreat I mentioned, but I'm still alive, I swear. Also, tomorrow I'm getting braces, so no update tomorrow.
Enjoy, patient Jell-O Squares! I missed you guys. -Doverstar)
Early mornings on Earth-1 were blue.
The color, not the emotion.
Caitlin woke at five AM most days. Before Ronnie had died, it had been six, but the pain kept her tossing and turning so much so that by the time it was five, she figured she may as well get up. The sky was blue, and the trees she passed in the car on the way to work were black, but an hour later they'd be their own shade of blue, something like midnight, because the sun was slow to make an appearance and time seemed to drag without coffee.
The Cortex was blue—milky blue on the floor due to electric light assaulting a tired pair of eyes, hints of blue shining out from the many computer screens.
In the summer, there was blue staining Cisco's tongue when he laughed, favoring those gas station slushies and lollipops. Barry's S.T.A.R. Labs sweatshirt was tinged blue, and he wore it when they were all together, scheming to protect the city, using husky voice because it was too early to sound like a human being. The tie Joe sported on Fridays when he came to listen to their technological babble was striped with blue, and the smell of Iris' perfume reminded Caitlin of the blue of tiny spring flowers peppering the grass, no matter what season it currently was.
The walls in the Pipeline were blue and the smell of breakfast was bright blue and generally, glowingly, mornings on Earth-1 were blue. A good blue. A safe blue. So quiet and welcoming and soft because most of the world was sleeping or sleepy. This was a well-liked, inviting color and it fit that slow time of day—if you could call it that when it was still pretty dark out.
On Earth-66, the mornings were purple.
It wasn't a vibrant purple or a dark one, but pale and almost unnoticeable. It hadn't been there the entire time Caitlin had been on this Earth; it had just recently appeared.
Purple was in the light glinting off the end of her metal cot's frame when she got up—still at five, she didn't need an alarm at this point. It was in the shadows in the corridors after she was dressed and ready for the day, heading out to Jitters with a growling stomach.
It was even in Jitters—pale purple in the smell of raspberry scones rising in the oven, in the cold of the counter as Caitlin set her bag on it, the smooth, painted marble freshly wiped down by the single barista who must've opened the café alone. Normally Jitters was a sort of warm color to her—orange, red, even gold—but here, it held a hint of something cool and interesting, like everything else. Not quite blue, but close. Different than Earth-1 as usual.
It was in the low light driving back to S.T.A.R. Labs-66 with a to-go bag in the shotgun seat. Caitlin inhaled deeply as she took the elevator down to the underbelly of the facility, where all their operations took place. The scents of the run-down version of home were growing on her, but it only made the sting of being cut off from her real dimension that much sharper.
Cisco had probably been up all night trying to open a breach, if she knew him. Barry had definitely lost sleep. Caitlin could picture Joe talking through the problem with his adoptive son, Iris joining them with warm drinks in the hopes of coaxing her fiancee into getting some rest. According to the team's Bluetooth connection—which was growing fuzzier with every passing hour—Wally had tried running quickly enough to create an opening between worlds himself, just after Barry had. In fact, he was probably still trying. He simply hadn't reached the speed the Flash could, and Caitlin knew he'd be down in the Speed Lab fighting to do his part. Somehow, whatever was happening, Kid Flash always ended up needing to prove himself.
Caitlin knew there wasn't a lot to be done on her end. She'd been awake far longer than she should have the night before, thinking until her eyes hurt. If some doomsday nonsense was interfering with the multiverse and the doorways between each Earth, one bioengineer wasn't able to make much of a difference. If she had the entire team backing her—if she had Cisco doing calculations and the Wests to point out the simplest options, things the geniuses in the room hadn't thought of, if she had Barry to execute whatever dangerous, crazy plan they came up with, then maybe she'd be back on Earth-1 in the next day or so.
But they weren't with her. So she'd have to sit tight while they worked—and she had a job of her own, speaking of which. What she'd come here to do: help Savitar.
That included breakfast in bed, and who could say no to breakfast in bed?
He was awake when she came in, sitting on the side of the bed pulling his shoes on. She was a little disappointed; the whole point of having breakfast in bed was to do it relaxed and lying down. For a moment, she felt silly—as if she were rewarding a little boy who'd behaved accordingly these past few days, and there was no need for that. Really, she just wanted to do something nice for him. Unnecessary, a little ridiculous, and certainly time-wasting—not her usual style—but it felt good anyway.
Savitar paused when she entered. His chin lifted a bit. "Is that the trolley from the med bay?"
Caitlin glanced down at the cart she was pushing. Normally, on Earth-1, she'd use this to bring food to the metahumans contained in the Pipeline. She would have used a nice little tray like in the movies, but for all the high-tech equipment and helpful items in this prestigious building, there was not a single tray sitting anywhere. The trolley was the next best thing.
"I didn't want to make two trips," Caitlin explained, flustered.
He nodded very slowly, obviously amused.
Caitlin took out a red cup from the nearest corner of the trolley and held it out to him. "And I brought Jell-O."
Savitar raised his eyebrows at the cup and took it, consuming a spoonful of the scarlet gelatin. He swallowed and shot her an exasperated glance. "There's medicine in it."
"Yes," she agreed hesitantly. "It's for your allergies."
Savitar resumed putting his shoes on, taking the time with the laces on the black Converse, probably deliberately. He could do everything in the time it took to inhale, and she wondered for a moment what was stopping him speeding up. "I don't still have a cold."
"Even with your healing abilities," Caitlin began, prepared for the argument, "running the way you do in weather like this is just going to tear your immune system apart." She held up a hand. "You might heal from it quicker than the rest of us would, but it's still bad for you and I am still going to prepare."
He sat up straight.
"I think," Savitar began with mock realization, pointing hard at her, "you just wanted to bring me Jell-O."
Caitlin grinned. "And a few dozen pastries from Jitters." She presented the unwrapped treats splayed out on the cart. "They were going to throw them out. Your calorie consumption has been suffering recently," she added, passing him a scone.
That ill-looking yellow light flashed around her and the trolley—Savitar was a blur, Caitlin's hair was hitting her in the face, and then he was at the door, pulling a brown napkin away from his mouth and tossing it into the little waste bin against the wall. He glanced at her and the now-empty trolley, looking bored and sleepy as usual.
"Are you bribing me for something, Doctor Snow?" Savitar demanded, squinting at her.
"What?"
He threw a hand out in her general direction. "You like my new clothes, now you're bringing me breakfast, what's going on?" He took his black denim jacket off of the metal table nearby and pulled it on slowly. "I already offered to run you back to Barry. Free of charge."
Caitlin was surprised and trying not to show it. He wasn't serious, was he? "I'm sorry, do you—still not understand the concept of kindness?" she asked, making certain she didn't put any sarcasm in her tone. It was a genuine question, and she was baffled by his mood. When he just looked at her, she explained, "You're my friend. I…wanted to do something for you." She paused. "Because you wanted to run me across the multiverse." A little shrug, a small smile. "If you can believe that."
Savitar's head reared; he smirked back. She should've been able to tell what he was thinking by now, but his expression remained mostly neutral, a twinkle of skepticism in there somewhere. Still, he admitted dryly, "I think I can be persuaded to try. You just can't stop helping, can you?" He walked back over to the trolley and took a blueberry muffin out of one of the paper bags.
Caitlin raised her eyebrows. "You didn't eat it all," she realized aloud, pulling her mouth down in a how about that gesture.
Savitar handed the pastry to her. "Don't tell me you bought this for me." He tilted his head, and for a moment she was reminded of a puppy. It was a familiar gesture, more familiar than most of the others he made, even after the transmogrifier had done its work. "Jitters makes the best muffins on the planet. And there's only one in there."
It was a direct quote from his Earth-1 counterpart, whether he remembered that or not. Jitters makes the best muffins on the planet. The Flash had paid tribute to their favorite café's food multiple times before with those exact words, probably to each member of the team, at least once. The Scarlet Speedster could be passionate about anything, and food was no exception. Caitlin suddenly realized that hearing Savitar sound like Barry—or move like Barry, or do anything like Barry—wasn't making her tense. It wasn't irritating anymore. In fact, looking at him then, there was a tangible absence of Barry Allen. She wasn't looking at a copy of her friend, she was looking at another friend, a different person, who had said something she recognized because he was in the loop.
The new angle was dizzying, and Caitlin found she was tilting her head right back at him. Her nose was wrinkling, the usual tell when she was confusing herself. She cleared her throat and assumed an expression she hoped was as gray as his normally was, catching a whiff of the now-cold muffin in her hand as she did so.
"Don't get too chummy," she warned after taking a bite. "I don't deserve it. Professor Stein is coming to work on the poison cure today—he'll probably be here for hours."
Savitar's smile slid off his face and he rolled his eyes. "When are you gonna stop bringing in strays?"
Professor Stein's first encounter with Savitar went about as well as Caitlin had expected.
The two scientists were indeed scheduled to begin work fixing what ailed Clarissa that day, but so far the actual execution was taking longer than expected. They still couldn't decide what medium was safest as far as a cure was concerned. Caitlin and Stein were sitting in the med bay, papers spread out across the examination table, looking over every inch of research they'd done on the gas sample.
Stein, esteemed mind that he was, all elbow patches and sharp eyes, looked adequately awkward—leaning over the pages, seated on his small metal stool. But it was clear from his expression that an unorthodox and unfamiliar setting was small potatoes when the key to his wife's recovery was this close to him.
"I would suggest a pill of some kind," he said after another moment of brooding silence between them, "but pills are meant to disintegrate and enter the patient's bloodstream—"
"And we can't be sure if the Mist's gas is in her bloodstream or just affecting her lungs," Caitlin finished, fingers curled near her mouth in a half-fist. She stood while he sat; she worked better moving around. "Like a permanent—a permanent loop of damage in one area."
"The Mist?" Stein adjusted his glasses, squinting up at her.
Caitlin nodded absent-mindedly, moving one page to examine the one beneath it. "Nimbus."
"Fitting," Stein muttered, and the silence returned.
Caitlin liked to repeat information she'd memorized in her head, a sort of white noise she allowed herself in the background of her mind, while actually focusing on other problems to solve. She was doing this with some of the calculations lying on the examination table when Savitar's voice came screeching over the loudspeakers in the building—something Caitlin had just recently gotten up and working in the run-down version of S.T.A.R. Labs.
"Caitlin, come to the Cortex." The voice was full of static and was barely comprehensive. There was even a slight screech as the mic switched off.
Stein's head came up in surprise. "What on earth was that?"
Caitlin was already moving for the door, babbling nervously. "Savitar. I am so sorry, he should've just used the comms—the overheads are new—I'll be right back, I swear."
"Just a minute," Stein stood, following her at a determined pace. "I think it's time I met the man responsible for Nimbus' capture, don't you?"
Caitlin staggered in the corridors, pace faltering. "I don't…" She hesitated, wondering if there was a polite way to say this. Savitar wasn't making things easier, as usual. "I don't know if he's quite ready to see you yet, Professor."
But Stein didn't stop. He folded his hands behind his back, walking amiably in the direction of the Cortex, so that she hurried to catch up. "I may be wrong, Caitlin," he said impatiently, "but it doesn't seem likely that one can be a recluse and a hero at the same time."
Caitlin tried not to grin at that, tried to look professional, but she noted the grandfatherly twinkle in his eye and decided to give in. "I never thought of it that way."
"I get that a lot."
They entered the Cortex, and Caitlin felt a sudden jolt as she realized she hadn't warned the speedster Stein was joining her. He could very well still be in civilian clothing, and Stein only knew him as the Flash. Well—not the Flash, but he certainly had no idea what the man behind the black blur looked like.
She didn't have to worry. He was completely suited up, standing in the center of the room, and all the monitors were on. Caitlin wasn't sure if he'd anticipated her mistake or if he'd just come back from a run across the city, and really, it didn't matter to her—just as long as some of their secrets remained secret.
Stein moved as if he were underwater, seeing the speedster there, vibrating slightly. He took in the outfit and the height and the posture, eyes clicking back and forth across Savitar's being until Caitlin felt he was doing some kind of mental scan. There was a mixture of reverence and intrigue in the way Stein watched the other man, and he seemed torn between moving forward to study the speedster further or staying where he was. Formal genius or fascinated scientist?
"Savitar," Stein said aloud, slowly. "There are a hundred things I could think of to say, but…" He actually smiled. "All I'm really getting at the moment is that I pictured you a little bigger."
Savitar's snort sounded odd while vibrating. He moved toward them, and Stein held out a hand, straightening his jacket and keeping the smile. But Savitar passed him without a glance—no malice in the gesture, just a genuine lack of interest in every movement, as if he could easily convince himself Caitlin was the only other human being in the room—and led the bioengineer to the nearest monitor.
"Look at this," Savitar ordered, tapping the screen once with a gloved finger so that the picture blurred for a moment.
Caitlin, shoving away the embarrassment at Savitar's usual impolite behavior, tried to shoot Stein an apologetic glance on her way behind the desk. Stein remained where he was, but he retracted his hand and his smile looked a little thinner. He caught Caitlin's expression and only dipped his head slightly, as if to say, Sue me, you were right.
She turned her attention to the monitor, and Savitar busied himself dialing up the volume on every channel in the Cortex. The ones mounted on the wall had always been the loudest, even on Earth-1, and Stein winced when the speakers crackled and Sandra Peterson's voice filled the room.
Caitlin didn't hear much of what the interviewer said this time, but she gathered that what she was seeing had only just happened. She gawked at the scene on the screen; horrified to discover she recognized the setting. Her head whipped around to stare at Savitar, noting in the back of her mind how odd it was to stand beside a man whose entire body was vibrating. "Is that—"
"The police station." It was Stein who confirmed her fears, not Savitar. He was watching the wall monitors with his back to them, shoulders stiff. His voice was like iron.
The CCPD looked like a bomb had yawned nice and long in its lobby, long enough to take out the majority of the building. What was left was being licked, inside and out, with flames so hot, Caitlin could swear they were mainly just white, no yellow or orange involved. Every brick visible had been blackened, and the framework of the ceiling could be seen on the far-right corner. It was like looking at a toasted paperclip that had been bent into a rickety line. Around the building, little bits of rubble—ruined furniture that had been blasted outside, smoldering cars that had been parked closest, or just pieces of the police station itself—were stacked about knee-high.
Caitlin had been on a merry-go-round when she was four. It was one of her earliest memories. It was also one of the first things she'd ever deemed forbidden for herself—she'd gotten off of the playground ride and had promptly thrown up McDonald's fries all over her new shoes. On that day, she vowed never to eat McDonald's and never to go on another revolving ride again. This included rollercoasters, giant spinning teacups, or playing a game of Simon Says in which Simon commands you to spin in circles until you fall down. Of course, working at S.T.A.R. Labs itself was a bit of a revolving ride at times—especially after having been engaged to Ronnie, who loved rollercoasters—but at least she'd kept her promise where McDonald's was concerned. She'd been sick for the rest of the day and a little into the next morning, as well, after that fateful trip on the merry-go-round.
Seeing the image onscreen had her reliving the moment she puked fries onto her light-up Sketchers. It was the best way to describe how her stomach was curling and complaining, and her heart was squeezing. Caitlin gaped at the news feed and wished, every time she blinked, that she'd wake up in bed. That this was a nightmare.
"All those people." Stein's tone had dropped, and he didn't turn around. "Madness. What kind of—"
Caitlin cut him off, jerking to her left to choke out at the speedster, "Savitar, you have—oh."
He was already gone.
Without wasting any time looking surprised, Caitlin scrambled to track his suit, switching on the comms and taking a seat as usual, then standing back up again in a fit of adrenaline. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up a digital schematic of the current charred building on one wall monitor, and keeping Sandra Peterson on the other. The nearest desk computer was keeping a lock on Savitar, while the one on her left held a street camera's live view of the surrounding area.
"Check for stragglers first," Caitlin ordered into the mic.
"I know," Savitar replied, voice curt and a little out of breath.
Stein came around to the other chair, but he didn't seem to feel like sitting either, instead holding onto its back with both hands and watching the hero's progress with narrowed eyes. Caitlin barely glanced at him—for a moment she was simply in S.T.A.R. Labs, working to save the day, and Professor Stein was there to help, same-old same-old.
Savitar's little dot onscreen dashed all the way around the outside of the building, then about a block away, back and forth. Occasionally he would run a bit farther, to the nearest hospital, then dip back toward the CCPD's remains. On the left-hand monitor, a slight blur appeared now and then, and in a few minutes, anyone outside the building had been blipped out of the picture by a strange blackish streak.
"That's the outer rim taken care of," Stein mumbled, almost to himself, studying the image with a fist near his chin but not quite touching it. He didn't appear to be admiring Savitar's speed anymore; just watching with a kind of fingers-crossed expression as each civilian was sped to safety. "Now for the belly of the beast."
Caitlin pulled the mic a little closer. "There should be a clear opening on the south side," she said into it, making certain not to hold it too close. There was no time for high-pitched static. "I can't make out any heat signatures indoors—the whole thing is a heat signature. You'll have to find them on your own."
"How did this happen?" Stein cut in, eyes still digging into the live feed. "A bomb, or—or some kind of—"
"I don't know," Caitlin tried to control her tone; she knew she sounded snappish. She couldn't focus on their guest anymore, and suddenly she understood Savitar's lack of manners. At least, she hoped it had been this crisis fueling him and not just his usual moodiness. "And right now it doesn't matter. We can figure that out when this is over." She lurched closer to the mic, something catching her eye on the monitors Stein was watching. "Savitar, look out!"
EEEEEE! Caitlin heard the screech of the comms clutching the tail of her shout and scooted away from the mic, far more roughly than she would have normally. Almost spastically, actually; nerves were swamping her. She should have been used to this sort of thing by now, but seeing somewhere so familiar, so engrained in life on Earth-1—Barry and Joe's workplace, the police station itself—ruined like this was jarring. She was running on horror as well as adrenaline.
Part of the ceiling began crumpling as Savitar entered the building, and Caitlin had meant to warn him away from the debris, but she heard him say, "What?" against the static after the mic screamed at him. She couldn't be sure he'd understood her.
The dot signifying his location on the monitor barely moved and Caitlin felt icy panic make the ends of her fingers numb.
"Savitar!" Her voice sounded hoarse to her own ears—had she been bellowing this whole time? A glance at Stein didn't give her any answers. He looked back at her, expression quite frozen, mouth slightly open in alarm, looking at the dot onscreen and licking his lips. Caitlin tried again. "Savitar, answer me!"
Stein was staring at her, she could see out of the corner of her eye, with an odd look written all across his face. The way he tilted his head gave Caitlin the fleeting, back-of-her-mind impression of the time she'd recognized a high school friend once in a grocery store simply by the way they walked. Stein acted as if he were seeing something similar.
But Caitlin wasn't dwelling much on their guest. She was nearly ready to hit the desk, the screen, maybe Stein, anything. This sort of feeling, the helplessness, came far too often.
He was the Flash, he had super speed, he couldn't have been felled by a collapsing rooftop. That was ridiculous. No, he was not the Flash, but he did have super speed and why wasn't he responding? He never did what he was told. The next call came out sharp and angry, though all she really felt was fear.
"Savitar!"
"What?"
She sat down hard in the chair, hands flying to her head very briefly before reaching for the mic. He sounded irritated, and she took a deep breath, pausing, trying to ensure her tone didn't mirror his.
"Are you okay?" she demanded.
They didn't have a live feed of the building's interior. Caitlin could only see the digital blueprint and the little signature on the monitor that was supposed to be Savitar. She had no way of actually knowing if he was physically intact; all she could gather was that he had barely moved an inch and a ceiling beam had just collapsed in his vicinity.
"I'm fine," Savitar replied, some of the irritation dropping out to be replaced with wariness. "It barely touched me."
"Are you telling the truth?" Caitlin practically spat into the mic. She could feel Stein's interest and mild surprise beside her, feel him analyzing the conversation—not in a rude way, in a default-setting kind of way. He was always studying and thinking. He apparently deemed Caitlin's question unexpected: superheroes didn't lie, did they?
But Caitlin had cleaned one too many bullet wounds in the past few months to romanticize the words of a man who—very often, though less so recently—did not want her help.
"Yes, Caitlin," Savitar sighed. Over the comms, the sound was like hearing a stick of chalk exhaling. "I'm faster than a piece of wood, I promise."
"Or a two-by-twelve joist set aflame," Stein muttered, knuckles near his mouth again. His bioengineer companion didn't hear him.
Caitlin closed her eyes, but she wasn't counting to ten or praying for patience this time. She was trying to still her heartbeat, which seemed to be galloping down some long hallway without stopping for rest. Too many people she cared very much about had been seriously hurt when she sat behind this desk, multiverse or no. You'd think by now, the very scent of the Cortex would give her anxiety, dye her memory with traumatic experiences and loss. By some miracle, it was instead a haven of loyalty and love. She wasn't keen on adding one more damaged friend to tilt the scales in the other direction. The thought of losing Savitar—even to something as ridiculous as a beam of wood—had pumped her body full of nausea faster than she'd believed possible. In true Doctor Snow fashion, her mind had instantly darted to the worst-case scenario.
And she was becoming less and less surprised by the affection that made all her worry possible.
"This place is nothing but smoke and it's coming down fast," Savitar cut through the silence again, curt and determined. "If I'm gonna find anyone left in here, I need to see first."
"According to the broadcasters, there are four fire engines heading that way," Stein informed them helpfully, nodding to the wall monitor. "Of course, time is of the essence here. I'm afraid I don't know the full extent of your powers just yet, but—might I suggest a form of aerokineses?"
"That's Barry's parlor trick," Savitar growled. A crackling noise issued somewhere in the background—something else was falling. Caitlin watched his dot shoot to another corner of the crumbling building.
"I'm sorry, whose?" Stein's hand drew away from his mouth. He glanced at Caitlin, baffled.
"We don't have time for this right now, Savitar!" Caitlin huffed.
She knew exactly what Stein was referring to—both Barry and, by extension, Savitar, and quite possibly every speedster, had the ability to suck oxygen out of the air by winding their arms at super speed to create a vortex. There were two problems with this humbly-offered solution, and the first was that Savitar had already refused to try it once, on a previous mission. This explained why he'd been unwilling the last time: anything that had to do with Barry, he was determined to detach himself from. Of course, here recently it seemed he preferred picking and choosing, rather than cutting himself off from the Flash's life altogether.
The other problem was less incriminating and she let it out for Stein's benefit. "But he's never performed a vortex on a fire this big," she pointed out. "We don't know that he can extinguish it all. At the very least he might free up one side of the building while the rest just…"
"Burns harder and faster, neglected," Stein finished, nodding. "I did say it was just a suggestion."
"All right, you know what, forget it. I'm gonna try it," Savitar interrupted. He sounded a bit out of breath this time. "First time's the charm, right? It's hot in here. And I don't hear any other bright ideas."
Caitlin blinked. First time. She'd spoken as if he, Savitar, had done this before. She wanted to hit herself with her own shoe. "Okay, just—please be careful. From here on out, don't take unnecessary risks. This isn't your usual firefighter routine."
"And—if this does work, you'll need to watch out for civilians in the path of your dual vortexes. I imagine suffocation doesn't look good on a hero's ledger," mused Stein.
Caitlin shot him a small, quick smile. He was thinking of the important things, the things Team Flash usually didn't focus on in a high-stress situation like this. She wondered if Savitar had even heard; she could already make out the distinct, static-filled whoosh of the vortex making its way into the air.
A few minutes passed, and Caitlin could hear Savitar losing breath and starting again. They watched the dot on the screen move from room to room, and on the opposite screen the flames reaching up and out of the rubble were, little by little, dying down.
"That's it!" Caitlin cried. "You're doing it!"
"Don't get too excited," Savitar replied dryly between gasps. "You've seen it before."
"Remarkable," Stein commented, glancing at Caitlin. "You have a front row seat to his abilities, his feats of valor, any time? One might go so far as to call you lucky, Miss Snow. Working with one of these metas, as you call them, who actually puts his powers to good use."
Caitlin raised her eyebrows. "Sometimes I'm lucky," she mumbled, turning back to the computer. "Other times I'm having an aneurism—Savitar, that's enough," she added, seeing less and less of the flames on the news feed. "The fire department can do the rest—right now we need to focus on getting everyone out."
"If there are indeed any survivors," Professor Stein said under his breath. Caitlin glanced up at him, but his expression was hooded, his lips tight.
The next few minutes were quieter ones. The only indication that the two in S.T.A.R. Labs had that Savitar had found anyone in the building was the sight of his dot racing from the charred CCPD to the hospital. Stein seemed torn between fiddling with his cuff links and rotating the digital schematic with the mouse, clicking and dragging, desperate for something else to do. Back and forth Savitar went, not commenting on what he found (a mercy), until he paused on the outside of the structure for the final time, a grunt of surprise making Caitlin sit up straighter.
"Is that everyone?" she asked.
Savitar coughed a bit into the mic, and Caitlin and Stein both leaned away from it, as if that would dampen the piercing sound the comms produced. "Looks like it."
"Then…why have you stopped?" Stein demanded. "Surely there's more to be done?"
"It's Wally."
The name sent Caitlin's stomach churning again. "Wally?" She pictured the burn marks, remembered the last time she'd had to sit here while Savitar found an alternate version of her young friend in the wreckage. Her heart started galloping again. This wasn't the same as the EXPO, this was worse, what if…
"He's fine," Savitar assured her, voice still gravelly. "He's across the street."
"See what he wants and stay in touch," Caitlin sighed, running a hand through her hair. She half expected white to start showing up in the caramel-colored locks soon—and not because of those hidden icy superpowers.
Two or three coughs sent the comms fizzling before Savitar cracked, "Whatever happened to please and thank you?" On Caitlin's left, Stein chortled, and for a moment she was reminded of the camaraderie in Earth-1's Cortex.
As they waited for the speedster to approach the youth, a few seconds of silence ensued at last in the room, and Caitlin leaned back in her chair, steadying her breathing.
Stein broke the quiet with an awkward, "Er…who is—Wally?" He said the name as if it were that of a cartoon character's, a title he was embarrassed to know about and whose use he resented the necessity of. Not the sort of moniker he'd come up with for his own child, Caitlin was sure.
She blinked at the realization that both Earth-66's and Earth-1's Professor Stein had never met Kid Flash. Recovering, Caitlin flapped a hand dismissively at her genius friend. "I'll explain later."
Wally had his phone out.
Savitar tried not to be irritated with him for it, but god or not, that was a battle he was constantly losing. It didn't help that his throat felt like it had been soaked in the color black. All he could taste was smoke.
The cliché that any millennial would be taking pictures and videos of a tragedy, rather than getting as far away from it as possible or phoning their loved ones, was being realized by a boy who—on another version of Earth—balanced grades and coffee addiction with a high-speed vow to protect and defend the innocent, whatever it took. Earth-66's West was, if it were possible, proving more disappointing than the original. We're in the same boat, then, he thought to himself, sliding to a halt a few feet behind the kid.
Wally seemed to sense the on-and-off hero's presence, turning almost immediately. He had indeed been taking pictures; Savitar saw the screen a second before it faded to black as West pocketed the phone. A smile didn't spring to the boy's face at the sight of him this time, but there was definitely a light that flickered across his expression.
"Thank God you're here," Wally breathed, and Savitar looked away, shaking his head a bit. What was it about that reaction that made him want to drill someone into the ground? Was it the irony? "I've been—"
"What are you doing here?" Vibrating your vocal chords was like getting that itchy, tickling sensation in the back of your throat before getting sick times a thousand. He hadn't done it as often as Barry had; his pervious metal suit had changed his tone for him, and doing it manually was getting old. Especially when his lungs felt like they were made of burnt cookie crumbs.
"I was looking through my dad's old file," Wally explained, swallowing. "I've seen it like a thousand times, but—I dunno. I thought maybe…now that you're on the job…I dunno," he repeated, looking at the ground, pursing his lips. "I thought I could help. I know I haven't gotten Eddie down there yet for—"
"Eddie!" Caitlin's voice burst through Savitar's right ear. He winced and his hand flew up to the comms embedded in the material of his suit; Wally broke off, watching the sudden movement. Caitlin went on, "He's a detective here, the CCPD—I can't believe we forgot Eddie—" That last part must've been to Stein as it was a bit quieter, who was surely thoroughly confused by all the names at this point. She was forgetting he basically only knew her here, not the rest of her Earth-1 troop.
She went on in slight hysterics for a moment more. Savitar wagged his head hard, knowing she couldn't tell he wanted her to shut up, but it made him feel better.
He glanced at Wally, eyebrows dipping. Nothing on West's face or in his voice indicated Eddie was in fatal condition, and Savitar hadn't found him—or his remains—anywhere in the ruined structure. All the same, without audible confirmation, Caitlin would insist he go racing off to find Thawne, and he had better things to do today.
"Eddie," Savitar began, chin jerking upward once. "Was he here?" He nodded to the destroyed building.
"Huh?" Wally waved both hands, almost smiling now. "Oh—no—no, no, he's good. Yeah, he's…he's off on Saturdays. He didn't know I was here, the place just blew up when I got about a block away…"
He continued explaining, but Savitar wasn't in the present anymore. He was remembering many Saturdays on Earth-1, in the past, when Iris was unavailable for pizza or movie night or talking Joe into a game of Sorry! to unwind. Unavailable, suddenly, because her boyfriend had claimed her time every chance he got. And the only chance he really had was on his days off. There was the odd time, Savitar recalled, where Thawne had to rush away from date night with Iris to join Joe in some emergency call from the station, but mainly Saturdays were Eddie's Iris-hogging days. He could remember the slow, steady ache and the surreal hole those weekends left in his life. Almost any Saturday before Eddie showed up in their lives, Iris was there and boredom, loneliness, and general stagnation was nonexistent.
The perks of being a time remnant? He was used to that gap, much more in tune with it than Barry could be now. He hadn't had an Iris West Saturday in…well, something like two-thousand years? They grow up so fast. He wondered what Eddie Thawne-66 did on his days off when there was no Iris to monopolize those precious 24 hours.
"You know who did this, right?"
Wally's voice tore him from his bitterness.
Caitlin and Savitar both seemed to come to the blatantly-obvious conclusion at the same time. He heard her inhale shakily in his ear while his own breathing came out long and slow.
"Rory," he grunted.
"Heat Wave," Caitlin confirmed simultaneously.
"I really think we should discuss your nicknaming habits." That was Stein, somewhere in the background.
Savitar ignored them both. Wally was nodding. "This all happened because of him—way too fast to be arson by somebody without powers. There's never been a fire like this in Central City. It's like—supernatural, almost." Wally took out his phone and showed Savitar the pictures of the building just ten minutes after the initial explosion for proof. "And it happened just an hour ago."
"Which means Rory is nearby," Savitar realized, fingers curling into his palms. Heat Wave couldn't have gone far on his own. Probably hiding out in some nearby building, surveying his handiwork.
"We have no way of knowing where he could be," Caitlin interrupted over the comms. "You can't go tracking him down now."
The speedster's voice came out raspier than he wanted it to; he coughed at least six times before responding.
"The trail's gonna get colder if I don't," Savitar argued, dismissing Wally's interested look at the one-sided conversation he was hearing.
"You sound like you've been drinking acid, Savitar." She was wearing her Personal Physician tone. "Come back to S.T.A.R. Labs. The stronger you are, the easier it'll be when you finally do catch him."
Savitar glanced at Wally, whose entire posture screamed waiting for orders. The hero was happy to oblige, albiet gruffly. "Don't go looking for Rory."
Wally's eyebrows puckered. "You're not gonna find him?"
"Not today," Savitar replied, turning. He did his best to restrain yet another cough. "The best thing you can do to help," he added harshly, "is to stay out of trouble and out of the way."
Stein and Caitlin were theorizing when Savitar came through the entrance to the Cortex.
"If what you say is true," Stein was muttering, hands gesturing wildly, "and from what you've told me it sounds like that may be the case—this group of metahumans appear to be creating some kind of terroristic pattern."
"What do you mean?" Caitlin asked, coming around the white winding desk to approach Savitar as the speedster coughed repeatedly into an elbow. Running had clearly hampered his breathing further.
"The bank, the EXPO, now the police station—which, if you ask me, is the worst blow yet—they all seem to be motivated by creating mass hysteria," Stein explained, nodding to the news feed. "It's blatant targeting, your Heat Wave. A power-play, perhaps, but if he is in the same league as Nimbus…" he spat the name as if he could taste the poison gas himself, "The ultimate question is, who are these men working for? Obviously they have an agenda. Who gave it to them? It seems unlikely they should come up with these patterns between the two of them."
"They both mentioned being under orders," agreed Caitlin, pointing at him. "That's what we—"
"Caitlin," Savitar rasped.
She glanced quickly at him, guilt poking her. She'd been too preoccupied having another beautiful mind to spitball with. It had been too long since she'd worked with Cisco. Her top priority at this moment was the man currently
"Water," Savitar demanded, coughing yet again, harder. It sounded like he had a mouthful of nails.
"Sorry, sorry…" Caitlin hurried to bring him a glass, using the sink on the dais where most of the lab equipment sat, still dusty. She passed it to him and watched him empty it in half a second, hooded mask still down. She looked at Stein, who continued watching the news feed. "Professor, I need to take him to the med bay for an X-ray…"
Stein jumped a little, turning to face the two of them. "Oh, of course," he stammered. "I'll just—eh, see myself out." He smiled at Savitar, who watched him through watering eyes. "It's been an extraordinary morning. I daresay…fun. Strategizing and helping where I could." He paused. "That is, once you omit the crisis our law enforcement is dealing with right about now. Obviously."
"Obviously." Caitlin smiled back in Savitar's place. "I promise we'll pick up where we left off tomorrow, Professor."
"Rest assured," Stein said as they all left the Cortex, "I'll hold you to that, Miss Snow."
The X-ray proved it. Savitar's lungs looked like the end of a mascara brush. The coughing had been gradual on the comms, a touch more disturbing during his conversation with Wally, and was now almost nonstop. Had he been treated on the site, or maybe walked part of the way back rather than running at super speed, it may not have been affecting him quite this thickly upon his return to S.T.A.R. Labs. But of course, he didn't think things through. Hardly ever. And Caitlin was used to it, she was, but it seemed traditional to allow a bit of frustration to leak out as she turned the X-ray off and pulled the generator back into its wall holder.
"You do know our growing little bond is the only thing that's keeping me from locking you in the Pipeline right now," Caitlin informed him tartly, passing him his fourteenth glass of water. "What do I have to do to keep you from taking risks? From doing something stupid?"
Savitar didn't respond for a good two minutes, trying to control the bought of coughing and wheezing claiming his vocal chords. Finally he said, "Caitlin—" a bit more coughing into a rag she handed him "—I can't see anything—" He sounded more exasperated than concerned.
"It's the smoke." Caitlin told him with a glance at the image the radiograph had provided. "Blurry vision is a basic symptom of someone exposed to too much. It should pass momentarily with your healing capabilities. Luckily, we won't be in here doing any high-stress level medical procedures this time. Most of the symptoms should come and go much faster for you than they would other people." She shot him a look, shrugging a shoulder indifferently, the picture of the old maternal, I told you not to do such-and-such and this is what happens when you disobey me, sorry. She was aware it was an insufferable stance to take when someone was coughing their innards out, but how much raw idiocy was she supposed to take with a sweet smile and some ibuprofen? "Same-old, same-old."
Savitar was too busy with his rattly breathing to toss a snarky remark her way, for once. He'd pulled the hood of his suit down and his hair was a bit wild, matted in some areas. His eyes leaked and leaked—red around the edges, and the tiniest traces of blood appeared on the rag he'd been hacking into. One hand pressed to his chest as if by applying pressure, he could ease the pain there.
"Here." She handed him two tablets. "Normally I would use a bronchodilator, or manufacture an actual antidote, but as a metahuman, all you should really need to beat this are a few steroids."
Savitar downed them without a drink, without hesitation. He shut his eyes for a moment, clearly holding back another barrage of coughing. Caitlin put the steroids away and tidied up the workspace, both from the X-rays and the project she and Stein had been working on. A few papers still lay on the examination table.
The speedster got up, leaving the rag on the floor. "Too bad I kept my suit back on your Earth," he muttered, voice like sandpaper. "It's designed to filter out things like smoke and poison gas." He leaned back, hands resting on the countertop. "I guess I'm better at costume-making than Ramon when it comes to, you know, the actually-helpful stuff."
Caitlin treated him to a withering glare. "I know how to perform a lobotomy," she warned.
He snorted a laugh at that. Then he shrugged. "Maybe if I hadn't left it behind, this wouldn't've happened."
"Maybe," Caitlin pointed out, looking up at him out of hooded lashes, "but the metal armor was not a good look for you."
Savitar hopped back up onto the counter, thumbs sliding absent-mindedly across its rim for want of something to do. His eyebrows rose teasingly, but the bite that colored his tone when they'd first arrived on Earth-66 was extinct. "I think you're just saying that because everyone looks good in black leather, Doctor Snow."
Caitlin tried to think of a retort that would disprove this line of thought, but looking at him then, she came up blank. He did look good in black leather. He looked good in black, actually, was what it was. Not that she'd seen him wearing any other color. She'd seen Barry wearing other colors, but it wasn't quite…it wasn't the same thing—
Shaking herself out of the mental babbling with briefly-shut eyes, she felt a smile quirk as the perfect argument flickered into her mind at last.
"The Trickster?" she countered, mimicking his raised-eyebrow look.
Savitar exhaled in a puckered sort of way, turning his head to show his profile in everything but a wince. "Yikes," he rasped, chortling. Maybe he was picturing it for a moment, the way she had. The Trickster in motorcyclist-esque leather. The Trickster in leather at all? The Trickster? No thank you.
Caitlin grinned. "I didn't think so."
As his little breath of a laugh died out and Caitlin went on cleaning up, a comfortable silence hugged the med bay. He'd saved the day again. Wally was all right, Eddie was alive by some miracle, and Stein had proven useful on an actual mission. Everything boded well—everything except Rory. Everything except what he'd done to the police station. Caitlin hated to think of all the people caught in that fire…and then, to a lesser extent, all the important documents, all that valuable, government information, destroyed. Where would the force hold court now? Was it Rory's mission to weaken the police, allowing crime to run rampant on Central City-66? Stein was right. Caitlin was positive of it—Heat Wave and the Mist were both answering to someone.
"You didn't sleep last night."
Caitlin stood up, away from the floor cabinet she'd been restocking. "Savitar, not this again…"
Savitar spoke over her, as per the norm. "I can tell you didn't sleep because you're moving slow. Slower." He was holding one of she and Stein's note sheets. "This why?"
One. Two. Three. Four. Caitlin shook her head. "Yes. Saving Stein's wife is more important than getting the odd eight hours of sleep."
"Oh," Savitar's tongue clicked. "So—it's okay if you want to run your body down, but if I want to hunt a couple of big bad metas late at night, I get a time-out?"
"Don't be ridiculous." Caitlin snatched the sheet out of his hand, setting it back down with the others on the examination table. "It's not the same thing. I missed one night of rest and you missed over four whole days. That's a big difference."
Savitar got up and approached her, arms folded. He seemed like an imposing teacher bearing down on a student who had been caught distracting their classmates, taller and broader than she was.
"You're my personal physician," he stated quietly, in what was very close to a warning tone.
Caitlin blinked up at him. "Yes," she mumbled. "I am." Eloquent. Why was he looking at her with eyes like cotton? For a split second she remembered the smoke and wondered if he was going to cough, this close to her. It was times like these her basket-case mind supplied the most distracting of images. Maybe it was the fact that he'd finally claimed her as his doctor, she wasn't sure, but at the moment her heart felt very warm and fast. Maybe it was because cotton eyes looked a lot like genuine care.
"You're not allowed to lose sleep," Savitar went on, with a very Barry look of responsibility. His voice was still soft. "See, because if you lose sleep, I don't get proper treatment."
Caitlin's brows dipped. "Treatment?"
"And I'm not having a personal physician who can't do her job right." Savitar pulled away from her and Caitlin felt like she could breathe again, as if she'd been eating a spoonful of peanut butter and had just washed it down with cold water. He moved around to the other side of the examination table and studied one or two of the pages splayed across it. "So let's get this over with."
"I'm sorry?" She was feeling a bit dazed. Must be the lack of sleep, affecting her after all.
"You need a medium to feed to Stein's wife." Savitar looked up, mismatched eyes sharp. "Fight gas with gas."
Now she was getting a headache. So much confusion in just three minutes. This bioengineer was not used to a lack of understanding.
"Fight gas with gas," she repeated dumbly. Preposterous.
"Create a chemical that'll eradicate whatever Nimbus' has that's killing her—" Savitar searched for the next words, winding a hand in the air the way his Earth-1 counterpart often did when explaining. "—absorb it—force it out."
Caitlin's mind flew across this picture, danced through it, jumped in no particular shape, trying to let it sink in. It shouldn't work—but there was a lot about it that made sense. They were dealing in metahuman problems here, everything was already impossible. If they could make it instantly degradable, get it in, let it do its job, and ensure it would dissipate without further, additional affects to Clarissa's system…
"It's a pretty bold idea," she muttered aloud, still thinking.
"Well." Savitar smiled. "You know me. Stupid risks."
She felt her matching smile grow and spread slow across her face. First he'd agreed to help Wally, then he'd offered to run her to Earth-1, now he was trying to cure poor old Clarissa Stein.
"If I didn't know any better, Savitar, I'd say you were trying to butter me up for something."
"Bribe you?" Savitar tossed back, narrowing his eyes.
"Get on my good side," agreed Caitlin.
Savitar's arms supported him as he leaned on the examination table, watching her. "Is it working?" he asked dryly.
She wandered around the table to join him, bumping him slightly with a shoulder. Unnecessary, but it caught his smile just before it faded off. She could always count on him to respond warmly to physical touch at this point. "I'm optimistic," she quipped, picking up a pen. Trying not to notice those cotton eyes and the smell of copper as she worked.
Time for some new calculations.
(Author's Note: Give me all your thoughts! I don't deserve it, so you don't have to, but you know how I love your reviews. NEXT CHAPTER COMING SOON! I kid you not, this time soon means soon. Love you all, thanks for sticking around! ~Doverstar)