(Author's Note: I love you people. I love your reviews. And I am still just a few days from having made you wait a month for an update...AGAIN. This past month or so, and especially this past week, has been kind of a rollercoaster for me, so I'm really sorry! Obviously I haven't made this fic my top priority recently, but it's so close to being done, I'll change that. I hope you like this chapter, Jell-O Squares! Can't wait to hear from you. ~Doverstar)

Eddie Thawne didn't know much about machines.

He knew how to operate his own phone. He knew how to work the weapons he was equipped with on the job. And he knew what Joe had insisted he learn about the computers S.T.A.R Labs had installed in the police station. But that was before S.T.A.R Labs' accident—and long before Mick Rory had turned the force's home base into a pile of ash.

Now the only machinery Eddie really had any relationship with was that same phone, give or take some kind of emergency when Caitlin couldn't lead her speedy friend through a mission. Which had only happened twice now—two and a half if you counted the time when Caitlin had hurried back from a meeting with Stein to take over from Eddie behind the screens.

So he knew he wouldn't be a dollop of help to Wally, who was apparently hard at work in S.T.A.R. Labs' dusty ribcage, building something that almost certainly went way over Thawne's head.

Nearly every day now, Eddie made a point to save half his lunch while on break and take it to his friend. Recently, according to Wally, whatever project kept him tethered here had had some kind of hiccup. Whatever had happened in the aftermath, it had West practically living in the Labs. And upon further inspection, he wasn't exactly living comfortably.

"You're sure he and I aren't—I don't know—" Eddie had sighed while visiting the Cortex one evening, "getting in your way here?"

Caitlin, bent over some heavy-looking paperwork Stein had emailed her, had barely looked up. "Of course not. Technically an off-the-grid facility is open to no one." She paused, clicking for a bit, eyebrows knit. "Which means it's open to anyone." At last, she smiled at him. "You're not in the way. But—I am a little worried about Wally. Between you and me," she added, turning back to the screen, "he's been so busy he seems to forget there are things like food. And sleep. And that this isn't his day job."

But what this was, Eddie couldn't have told you. Wally wouldn't explain his project.

"This wouldn't happen to be something that's gonna help us clear Joe's name?" This had been Eddie's first inquiry.

"I wish," Wally had replied, not looking at him. He just kept saying, "It's kind of a favor to them." When the kid wanted to, he could lock any information up tight, and no number of bribes or threats would pull it out of him.

Besides, Caitlin and Savitar had already done quite a bit for Wally, and if he wanted to devote so much time to giving back, who was Eddie to stand in his way? The sandy-headed detective felt the boy deserved a bit of respect; he kept himself from digging too much. A favor for Caitlin, Thawne reasoned, couldn't be anything dangerous. She and her speedster were working to keep the city safer. It was becoming harder and harder not to trust them.

Today, Wally was getting what was left of his burrito from Tito's downtown.

"Sorry; I know you don't like onions," Eddie grunted, pulling up a nearby metal stool to watch his friend work in the engineering wing. "It's just how they come." He passed Wally the paper bag, eyes flickering over the huge, humming box Wally crouched beside. Trying to discern what it actually was, what it could do. But he was no mechanic.

"Nah, it's cool." Wally took the bag without looking backward, setting it down instead of opening it up. "Thanks."

"It's already cold," Eddie informed him, trying not to let any kind of Big Brother Syndrome slip in. Wally, Eddie had learned over the years, did not take kindly to being babied. "You should dig in."

"I will," West promised distractedly, taking off one of the rubber gloves he wore and sticking it between his teeth, freeing his bare hand to wield a 5/8 wrench. From around the glove he added, "Later."

Eddie exhaled through his nose, deciding to drop it for now. If Wally wanted to starve himself, no one could say Detective Thawne hadn't given him a second option.

Instead, he commented, "It's always boiling in here."

"Thing takes up a lotta energy."

"Get it up and running, or—" He craned his neck, trying to see over Wally's hair to any components of the box he might've missed, any more clues. "—whatever it is it's supposed to do?"

Wally let the glove tumble from between his teeth. "I'm gettin' there. I guess."

"You guess?"

The box rattled a little and Wally dropped the wrench, startled. After a moment, it calmed down again, and the boy shifted from a crouching position to a cross-legged one, sighing. "Whatever happened—it's not like it…blew up. I mean, it didn't work the first time, but nothing's different. Like, the whole thing follows the instructions perfec—"

"Where are you getting instructions from?" It was out before Eddie could remember his vow of respectful silence.

Wally gave him a look.

Eddie raised his palms. "Sorry. Forget I asked."

He glanced at the Tito's bag, hesitating for a moment while West turned back to the box. He watched the boy's hands as he worked and noted how stained and dry they looked. Eddie pursed his lips, impressed and worried all at once. He wondered if this was how parents sometimes felt.

Whatever he did, Wally always went at everything full throttle. He always gave his best. He'd seemed sort of lazy and laid-back when they first met—the first time Eddie had ever taken up Joe's offer on family dinner night. The usual formal questions, all about college and life's goals, had glanced off of Wally. He seemed like a good kid—polite, friendly, compassionate—but without much ambition.

That changed when Iris, Wally's somewhat stiff cop of a big sister, died in the S.T.A.R. Labs explosion. Since then, Wally had thrown himself at any and all tasks, and Eddie could never tell if it was because he wanted to keep himself busy, or if he wanted to make Iris proud of him. Thawne had never been much of a fan of Iris West—she'd always seemed too uptight for his liking—but he knew she'd always thought the world of her little brother. She'd always encouraged him, prophesying with absolute confidence that he would do something great one day. Eddie had never thought Wally took much stock in any of it until she'd passed. Now he could see Wally felt he'd wasted the time he'd had to prove to her that she wasn't wrong about him.

He was pushing the same determination into this. Whatever this was. Whatever Caitlin had asked him to do. More than once, Eddie had thought about simply asking Doctor Snow what Wally was building—but the fact that Wally wouldn't tell him himself said that the secret wasn't just his to keep. To the Wests, Thawne had become part of the family; Wally usually never had any trouble telling Eddie anything. This couldn't be his tell. If it were, wouldn't Eddie know all about it by now? Joe's imprisonment, Iris' death—the two young men had been glued together by the most recent blows life had dealt them. If they couldn't confide in one another, there wasn't really anyone else on the same level to take up the mantel. They really were like family by now.

"This thing must be pretty important if you're giving up on food just to make it go," Eddie surmised at last, resting his palms on his knees.

"Caitlin needs it," Wally replied simply, sounding just a bit amused. "And I'm not giving up on food, Eddie. I'm just busy."

"Yeah, for three weeks straight," agreed Eddie. "I'm surprised Allen hasn't fired you yet."

"Stop playing, man, you know I had to fill out so much paperwork for that job."

"If you were a cop, they'd—"

"Don't joke; no way I'd be a cop."

"Seriously, though." When Wally turned to roll his eyes at him, Eddie offered a smile. "Even if…this…was all you were doing with yourself—I'm proud of you, pal."

Wally paused, blinking in surprise.

"Whatever it is," Eddie went on, gesturing helplessly to the humming box, "I think it's great you're helping them. Caitlin's doing a lot for you." He pictured Joe, still locked in Iron Heights, with this scrap of hope twirling and shining in a speedster and a bioengineer none of them really knew. Pictured the villains he'd seen locked up in the Pipeline on the security feed in the Cortex. "And me. And who else do we know that's going above and beyond like this to help the city? Right under everyone's noses?" As Wally nodded, he added, almost as an afterthought, "Y'know, from what you told me about them—they're not what I expected."

Wally wiped his hands on his jeans. Whether he was trying to free them of sweat due to the room's immense heat or just the usual oil and grime, Eddie wasn't sure, but it was clear that it wasn't helping.

"I feel that," he offered. "When we met—like, after the whole EXPO crap—I thought Caitlin was just this cute doctor girl nursin' me back to health." He grinned. "Turns out she's a total genius. She's got that Stein guy on speed dial, and she's working with Savitar. Plus she's fr—" He broke off suddenly, as if he'd been reading down a list of Cool Caitlin Things and had come to a section for his eyes only. But the detective didn't notice.

"Savitar," Eddie muttered, shaking his head. "He's definitely not what I expected."

"Yeah," Wally chortled, taking up the wrench again. "You know he's taller in person than he is on the news? Like—6'2, tops."

"That's not it." Thawne picked up a little metal cylinder on one of the nearby worktables; one of the little bits and pieces scattered around the abandoned room. He turned it over in his hands, thinking aloud. "When he stopped me at the bank…I don't know."

Wally's eyebrows dipped as he glanced over his shoulder. All humor gone at Eddie's tone. "What?" he prompted.

"I don't know," repeated the detective. Eddie licked his lips. "He was angry. Not like you'd think some superhero running around the city would be. And not just then. Every time I saw him—every time I've seen him—he's just…dark. You know? He's a hero," he added hurriedly, when Wally opened his mouth to object, "don't get me wrong. For sure. But…something about him…"

The box rattled again and Wally kicked it, pointing firmly at it as though telling a puppy that wouldn't sit still, I got my eye on you.

It gave Eddie the second of silence he needed to form the right words. "There are guys I work with. Guys on the force. They've been through some pretty rocky stuff. Especially the older ones; they've seen all kinds of evil out there. Guys who have done things they can't take back. Guys who've lost something, or lost too much, or—just—sorta keep losing. Like Joe."

At this, Wally's head finally came all the way up. He turned around, wiping his hands again on his jeans. Brown eyes rounder but still not all the way open. Eddie knew this look. He had the kid's complete attention.

Eddie leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, encouraged, as always, by Wally's listening ear. "Ever since Iris died—I mean, you saw him."

Wally rubbed at the chest of his deep orange T-shirt, nodding absently. Staring at the floor now. "Like a whole different dude."

Eddie nodded back. "It was like there was this…hole. Right? Like there was this hole inside and he was—just—too afraid to fill it up." He straightened, almost smiling. "I don't know, probably sounds cheesy."

But his companion didn't seem to think so.

"He was ticked," Wally recalled quietly. "All the time. He was still Dad," he quickly amended, "but…" He met Eddie's eyes, using his word for it. "Dark."

Eddie's eyebrows rose in consent, remembering it. After Iris had gone, no amount of family dinners, no number of baddies caught and jailed, could bring the same light around in the old detective again.

"Savitar's like that," Wally agreed.

"He's lost a lot," came a soft voice from the doorway.

Both boys jumped. Eddie felt his cheeks tingle with embarrassment, being caught gossiping by Caitlin herself. How long had she been standing there? He was scum, chattering away about the two of them, after all they'd promised to do for Joe, after everything they'd done for Central City. Like a hairdresser or a soccer mom, painting other people's moods like it was a sleepover in the sixth grade. Like they had any idea what someone else was going through.

Caitlin didn't appear to see it that way. As she walked into the room, carrying a drink tray with two cups from Jitters for the pair of them, if anything, she looked pleased. Almost glad.

"You may have noticed he's not the most trusting person," Caitlin added dryly.

Wally winced in Eddie's direction and quickly turned back to the machine, eager to escape the awkwardness of being found slandering. But Eddie glanced at Caitlin, waiting for more.

"And I know he isn't always the most…polite, either." She made a face, scrunching up her nose and glancing skyward, as if trying to decide how to continue.

Eddie shook his head. "Caitlin, we weren't—"

"I know," Caitlin interrupted. She gave him an awkward smile. "It's okay. I was just thinking—you're right. About Savitar being…about him having lost so much. About having a hole you're afraid to fill." She handed them their drinks. "It can take you to a dark place." She made quotation marks with her fingers, tilting her head with a small smile as she used their terms. "I've had my fair share of losses. I know how that feels."

Wally lightly tapped the end of the wrench against his knee, as if it were a very heavy pencil, and let an elbow rest on the box. "But with my dad," he began falteringly, like he was debating on whether or not to enter back into the conversation, "it never got real bad. Like—he never did anything stupid, you know? Cuz me, my mom, everybody—we didn't let him."

Eddie, like a child caught with mom's precious jewelry, set the cylinder down when he noticed Caitlin's eyes rest on it curiously. "Sometimes I think the only thing keeping him from getting worse was—"

"The people who loved him?" Caitlin finished. She was smiling, like she'd heard something familiar, like someone had referenced a favorite movie or book and she'd overheard.

Eddie nodded. "I don't know what he would've done with himself if he didn't have Francine. Or Wally," he added, nodding to him.

Wally grunted. "Uh, you were a big part of that too, man."

The detective tried and failed to hide how much the words meant to him. A slow grin nearly pulled his face muscles out of shape. Not for the first time, he wondered where he'd be if the Wests hadn't basically adopted him as one of their own when he moved to town.

Caitlin sat down gingerly on the top of one of the worktables. She was wearing her lab coat, and the way she smoothed her hands over its hem was too fast, almost nervous. "I guess we've all lost something," she surmised. "Looks like the only antidote is the people who care."

Eddie Thawne wasn't much of a philosopher. But you couldn't be a detective if you weren't some kind of deep thinker. He'd thought a lot about his partner, about what Joe must have been feeling these last few years. About how his life had gone topsy-turvy ever since the explosion at these very Labs. He'd thought about the kind of man his partner was—to serve time in jail for a crime he didn't commit without complaint. To accept help from his family and friends after losing his only daughter, instead of simply giving up on life completely. Joe hadn't deserved the blow life had dealt him, but it would have been even worse if he'd gone through it all alone.

Savitar, Eddie concluded, was lucky to have someone like Caitlin. He was lucky not to be alone, the same way Eddie was lucky to have Wally, and Wally was lucky to have his mother. Really, they were all benefitting from knowing Caitlin Snow. The list of people in his life displaying impossible selflessness was growing longer by the day.

Caitlin blinked hard and gave them both puckered eyebrows. "And—I'm sorry getting Joe out hasn't exactly been our top priority." She cleared her throat. "There's something bigger going on in the city. At least, that's what Savitar and I have been thinking." The glance she tossed at Wally was practically half a second long. Too fast. "And there have been…technical difficulties around here."

Wally didn't look back. Eddie watched Caitlin purse her lips and shift just slightly toward the boy, as though she wanted to hop down and touch him, put a hand on his back or something. Detective Thawne had memorized body language years ago. Something had happened with this project of theirs, and whatever it was, it must have left Doctor Snow feeling a little separated from her engineer-for-hire.

Several questions wanted to come hammering out of him. He looked at that dark silver cube Wally was kneeling beside and felt frustration in the setting of his jaw and the bouncing of a leg. If it wasn't being built to help Joe, but it was a favor to Caitlin, surely it was some kind of world-saving invention? What could Caitlin possibly need with a glorified washing machine? All those levers, all that humming and shaking, the over-the-top orange extension cord running from its side to the round metal frame mounted a few feet away…Eddie couldn't begin to guess what kind of contraption his friend was so invested in. The only thing he could do was stare at it and offer burritos and be respectfully uninterested. A cop shouldn't feel this useless. A detective shouldn't feel this out of the loop.

"To be honest, I'm glad you guys're helping at all," Eddie finally replied, realizing that if he didn't combat her apology soon, things could seem awkward. "It's been just Wally and I on this case since it started; having a few extra hands is practically a dream come true."

Caitlin still looked guilty, though, but before Eddie could take another stab at reassuring her, her hand flew to the Bluetooth device attached to her ear, face scrunching up in surprise. "Savitar?" she said aloud.

Eddie knew he wouldn't be able to hear what the moody hero was saying, but he strained all the same. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Wally setting his tools down and tilting his head in Caitlin's direction.

"If it's not Shawna Baez, who is it?" After a moment, with a funny expression, Caitlin stood as though someone had flipped a switch. "Where are you?"

A pause.

"Yes, I know," Caitlin huffed, rolling her eyes. "But believe it or not, I don't spend all my time in the Cortex." Another pause. "I'll head there now."

When she tapped the device again, apparently turning it off, Eddie stood too. "What's up?"

"Savitar says he's got a metahuman causing trouble on the East Side." Caitlin made her way to the door, readjusting the Bluetooth device as she went. "Not Mick Rory, for a change," she added, in a tired sort of tone. "Apparently, she has a few explosives and she's 'making a mess'." She held up a hand. "That's Savitar talking. It's usually more serious than he makes it sound."

"Metahuman?" Wally's voice cracked.

Caitlin paused, and confusion flickered across her features, making her nose wrinkle. Then it cleared; she said quickly, "People who were affected by this—by S.T.A.R. Labs' accident. Like Rory, or—"

"Savitar," offered Wally, resting an elbow on the metal box's top.

"Right." She opened the door. "This shouldn't take too long."

Eddie grabbed his coat and hurried after her. "I can be your backup," he offered.

Caitlin glanced at Wally, but the boy had turned his back to the two of them, focused again on his secret invention.

"That would be great."

She graced Eddie with a smile, but he was too familiar with the size and strain of fake ones to see much actual joy in it. If anything, just for that second, she looked more stressed than ever. Eddie had been getting the distinct feeling she was one of those uptight girls since they'd met—the kind that planned everything out, the kind that tried holding too much at once. The kind Iris had been, before the accident here had taken her away. He remembered her taking way too many antidepressants on the job. She'd had a whole drawer, hidden from Joe, devoted to them in the CCPD while she'd been alive. He wondered, looking at the exhausted lines around Caitlin's eyes, if she'd tried anything like that for herself.

And if she wasn't, the least he could do was to ease some of the weight she kept strapping to her shoulders. All for the sake of every broken stranger who had somehow found his way to the formerly-abandoned S.T.A.R. Labs.

This broken stranger was determined to make himself useful.

The villain in our tale did not drink coffee often.

He rarely went to the surface anymore—he had the help for that. If he needed caffeine, there were ways of getting it that didn't involve a tedious stroll up to the land of the ordinary. But today was special. Today, he'd gotten himself a nice cappuccino and a shady alley to stand in and was even wearing a new jacket. Today, he'd find out precisely what dear Mister God of Speed was truly made of. From a distance, of course, while the Savitar took on the first female meta to join their nasty, highly entertaining underground cause.

After the happy accident at S.T.A.R. Labs, Linda Park had come to him with perhaps a sand grain of control over her new abilities. She would be standing before him and, after blinking, or being distracted by sound in the background and glancing in that direction, suddenly she would transport herself to another spot in the room. As long as she could see it, she could be there in a heartbeat. No leg muscles necessary. And that was such a neat little party trick, how could he refuse when she'd asked for a piece of the pie? For a bit of training? Perhaps his training did take longer than necessary—giving her a little red slice with his favorite knife, or even a not-so-little one, whenever she turned up in the wrong place probably tended to plant a few doubts in her mind before teleporting—but in the end, she'd become quite an asset. Knife wounds made one's focus quite sharp, as it turned out. And Rory liked to grumble he hadn't a sense of humor!

It was easy, giving her assignments. He hardly had to worry whether or not Linda was up to the task, whether she could do what he commanded. When you were essentially faster than any cop or their squad cars—when you could go from sidewalk to the roof of a skyscraper in the time it took to inhale—nothing was really much of a challenge, was it? And seeing Lisa Snart grind her teeth in envy each time he sent Park out to cause some chaos instead of her, well, that was just sprinkles on the cupcake.

With his kingly sewer life, pawns ready at the flap of a hand and no one to oppose him, he didn't think he could have much more fun until the boy in black had shown up. Savitar—at last, here was someone Linda could really go toe-to-toe with. Armed with several little bombs and the will to turn the East Side of Central City into a kicked anthill, Park had been appearing and reappearing up and down the streets, setting off explosive after explosive wherever took her fancy. Sometimes she deliberately materialized in the path of fleeing pedestrians, just to see them stagger and shriek in their panic to get to safety. It was better than reruns of The Crocodile Hunter, watching from his alley.

And then the speedster had joined the party. Right on schedule. Well, actually, perhaps a few minutes early. It was like opening two presents on Christmas Eve instead of one. A welcome surprise, those extra minutes. More study time before the big test. He let his empty cappuccino cup slip from his hand—naughty litterbug that he was, for shame—and narrowed his eyes, following every movement the running man made. As soon as he'd discovered Savitar enjoyed fighting in slow mo, rather than at high speed—unless, of course, there were innocent lives on the line, according to Rory—he knew it would be impossibly easy to complete this portion of his plan. Everything was easy. That lot at the roasted shell of S.T.A.R. Labs was clearly rough about the edges when it came to hero's work. Really, he was beginning to get bored.

When Savitar did catch up with Linda as she blipped here and there, he relied more on his hands than anything else in the fight. He did tend to use his speed when she threw her own punches, and of course he dodged every explosive sent his way, but other than that he relished the rush it gave him to land a blow at an average pace. He kicked her feet out from under her more than once, but all Linda needed to do was to focus on any spot nearby, and she wouldn't be down for more than that single second.

Infuriating. To Savitar, anyway. For him, this was just turning out to be a splendid afternoon.

The speedster didn't waste time on the bombs themselves, either. Rather than racing to catch or somehow douse/deactivate each one as she left them, Savitar continued to focus on the hands tossing the weapons instead.

He moved with them, always perfectly hidden, following the two metas down each block. Linda had been told, of course, where she was allowed to go—she had her limit, the border he'd set up for her. Like children playing a game of Capture the Flag, she wasn't permitted to cross a certain point. There was no need for him to go dashing about the entire city following the two of them. Park could go backward and forward along this section of the city, but if she got too far away, his study time would be cut short. And we can't have that.

He analyzed the former God of Speed's every move. Which leg he favored, which attacks he tended to repeat most, how many times he let himself pause for breath, everything. Know thine enemy. He hadn't been bested in a fight since he was fourteen years old. What passed for a father had come very close to breaking both his legs as a kind of punishment once. Being scrawny and a bit twisted up inside made him an easy target. He knew then that if he could master and redefine the art of observation, he could win any fight before it began. Even one against someone with superhuman abilities.

Linda was getting tired. He could see it. He could also see Savitar's hand dart several times to where his ear ought to have been beneath that hooded mask.

Well, he wasn't the only one with a comms system.

He didn't need to tap his. It was already online. "Linda, darling, I've finished work early and I'm afraid playtime is over for today."

Ages ago, when she'd first joined him, she would have flinched at the sudden voice in her ear as she fought. Probably due to a past trauma of some kind. But he'd worked it out of her, among other things that had been standing in the way of her full potential, and now she barely blinked, showing no sign to her opponent that she was getting a call.

In seconds her eyes shot from corner to parked car to his very alleyway, meeting his gaze and disappearing in a waft.

With a gasp, she was at his side. In a hoarse whisper, she said, "I think I broke a record this time."

"Most jumps in one hour?" He weaved around a few trash bins, heading for the nearest manhole. He knew them all. "Running for Miss Meta, I see. Well done."

When they reached the main bunker in his darkened kingdom under the city, Mick Rory was waiting for them. He sat on an overturned crate with one leg jittering, watching the little television in the corner. There was practically steam pouring from both ears; he looked so agitated. Perhaps there would be another Put Rory In His Place sparring session. They'd only ever had one, and the lean leader of the operation had been simply itching to have another go at the pyro. Rory was so slow, and so thick, if he needed a bit of a stretch in his muscles, a brawl with Mick was just the thing.

"Nimbus is still in there," Rory announced, turning. "And Snart."

"Lovely to see you've been exercising your eyes, mate." He shed his jacket, hanging it on a lower beam, one of many that supported various platforms around the cavern. He didn't need to look around to know Linda was slinking off for a bit of a rest. Pity. He fancied a few new clothes—his were all starting to smell like the pipes down here—and she was the quickest of them all at breaking and entering. But if you used a toy too often, it would break, and his OCD insisted on throwing all useless things away.

"You know the Freak can't fight us all at once," Rory went on. Would he always be this dense? Would he constantly need to be reprimanded? It was getting tedious. Cutting out his tongue would be more effective. Oblivious to his own disrespect, the hothead continued. "I'd like to see him try to stop one of Snart's robberies while I melt the hide off a skyscraper on the other side of town. And while Nimbus is smoking out another fancy clubhouse. Then we'd have him."

"Ooh, brilliant, good, yes. How long did it take you to come up with this little plot?" He rubbed the bridge of his impressive nose. "The past month?" He began scaling one of the beams, lazily twisting in and out of footholds and glancing down at Rory, who watched him with the impatience of a four-year-old. "Careful you don't question the methods in my madness, eh?"

Rory clearly wasn't listening. Waiting for his turn to speak. Maybe that tongue really should come on out. "We need more muscle around—"

"I've no doubt your left pinky toe has enough muscle in it for the pair of them. Whatever you may lack, Sparky, take comfort that it isn't brawn. Nimbus and Snart remain in that facility until I say otherwise." He swung down and landed directly in front of Mick. He was two inches taller, but had he spread his arms, Rory's shadow could have taken up half their length. "You're not to infiltrate their 'Pipeline'. You're not to confront the speedster. They are—all of them—precisely where I want them to be."

Rory licked his lips, shifting his left wrist out of view, behind his back, nearly unconsciously. But he still had enough of his precious fire in those eyes to rumble out, "So. How long are Park and me gonna have to pull their weight?"

His master gave him a smile that could have been made of Elmer's glue, it was so thin. "Not much longer now."

(Author's Note: This one is probably really short, right? I'm so sorry. And no Savitar/Caitlin interaction? No Savitar? If you actually read this chapter, bless you. I have a feeling you'll like the next one, though. Stick with me, Jell-O Squares! I recognize you all in each review and would hate to lose you. My work schedule has let up a bit so I may be able to update sooner this time. In fact, I'll get started on Chapter 36 right now! Love you all. ~Doverstar)