Chapter 3: Room for 2
Caitlin
Right, so I can do this. I can totally, so do this. It's not weird at all. Why wouldn't I be able to do this?
Conflict of interest? Confusing as hell? Sure, but I'm all in. I am going to work with Harrison Wells until we find a way to control these powers of mine. Because that is the thing that I need to do.
I can't live my life in these absurd shackles, always terrified that the next time I lose my temper, I'm going to turn into a white-haired, blue-lipped ice diva intent on getting what I want and freezing any poor souls who get in the way. Here's my chance to figure it all out, because no one is better at this than we are when we put our heads together.
Standing in front of him, I'm just so excited to be around Wells again that I'm all in a tizzy, but I try to play it off like I'm all revved up to get training and try to solve my issues with my powers. "So," I say brightly, "How should we start?"
Wells
I can't believe I'm really here, really with her. All those weeks of thinking about her and it's come down to this somehow. The moment feels super-real.
"I think we'd better start with you taking those off," I announce, nodding to her bracelets.
"Is that such a good idea?" Caitlin wonders. "I could hurt you."
"Snow, first of all, are you really questioning me on the first suggestion I come out with?"
"And second of all?" She asks the question with a sly little half-smile, her brown eyes glittering with determination mixed with humor, her cheeks slightly flushed, her seductively full lips distracting me so much that I'm annoyed with myself for it.
"Second of all, I don't care if you hurt me," I say with characteristic confidence, crossing my arms expectantly.
"You can say that now and sound all heroic, but it'll be a different story if I turn you into a Wells-icle."
"I wasn't really going for heroic," I explain, "I was just going for, 'I'm your friend, and I'm here for you.'" She breaks into a full, sincere smile that threatens to burst my heart, and reality feels just a little too real for me again.
She takes the bracelets off with two clicks and places them on the desk beside her.
Immediately, icy vapors start to drift from her fingers and her eyes flash a pure, pale blue, momentarily and irrepressibly glorying in her freedom.
Caitlin takes a deep breath, steadying herself. The tips of her brown hair start to shift in color, morphing gradually into a bright white shade as her lips change to a deep blue. She closes her eyes and breathes again. Her hair and mouth go back to normal, but the vapors are still unfurling from her hands, which she changes into fists.
"Alright, so you have some measure of control," I note, circling her, thinking. Impressed by her strength but not surprised.
"It's shaky, and it can go at any moment," she explains. "My whole body feels like an ice cube, and that just makes me want to go full Killer Frost more than anything. Plus, I start to feel all my…baser instincts creeping back up to the surface. That little voice in my head telling me to give in."
"Snow, you don't have baser instincts," I murmur, taking her hands in my own. It's a bold move, and my fingers and palm immediately feel flashes of deep pain, like touching dry ice. I flinch slightly but hold my ground.
"Harry, you can't do that," she pleads, making to step back and break the physical contact between us.
"Sure I can," I reply, even though it hurts like hell. I'll take it, if it gets her where she needs to go. "I'm giving you a reason to try really hard to stop freezing something. Stop freezing my hands, Snow. You can do it."
The streams of icy power that feel like sharp teeth coated in venom sinking into my flesh start to disappear, then reassert themselves. She shakes her head, the white hair and blue lips making a temporary reappearance as well, then receding with the pain in my hands.
"I can't stop it. I can't stop her!" Caitlin almost had it, but she's losing faith.
"Try harder," I urge her, but she rips her hands from my grasp and backs up rapidly.
"We have to stop this experiment!" she demands, furious with me, furious with herself, a general grab-bag of anger and frustration. Beautiful and tempestuous.
"No, we don't," I reply, moving towards her and gently sliding the bracelets away from her reaching hands. I sit down on top of the desk and remind her, "We're just getting started, Snow."
Caitlin
He's crazy. I adore him. He's out of his mind.
"I won't risk hurting you, hurting anyone. I'd rather wear these for the rest of my life!" I know I'm shouting, I know I'm shaking, but right now, I'm incapable of caring. That is so not me. He's seeing my at my most vulnerable, stripped down to a point that scares me.
"That's all well and good, until your powers build up to the point that no inhibiting device is going to hold them back," Wells observes with common sense that somewhat infuriates me.
"Obviously," I answer, rolling my eyes and hating the childishness of the reaction. "Cisco and I can modify the bracelets as needed over time."
"Until that stops working," Wells predicts grimly. He stands and comes way too close, speeding my sore heart up immediately. "Why should you have to live like that, Caitlin? Tied to these bracelets, living in fear, never knowing when your powers are going to surge beyond their control and what will happen as a result? You shouldn't have to live like that."
He cups my chin lightly in his hand and so, so gently urges me to meet his startling, gorgeous eyes. There's delicious pain throbbing through me from his sweetly considerate touch and my answering desire.
His fingers are as ice cold as my own, feeling the effects of our dangerous contact.
"I won't let you live like that," he finishes quietly, dropping his fingers. Not so fast, Wells.
Not after everything you just said.
I take his hands and, feeling again what I've done to him, I automatically start to rub them, like I have any ability to bring warmth back. Of course, I don't. The motion does nothing but send a thrill coursing through my body as I boldly shift the motion from a doctorly one to more of a caress. His surprise registers in his eyes, but he says nothing. Unreadable as ever.
"This isn't helping," I say, my voice coming out a little ragged. "I should get you some ointment from the med kit."
"I'm fine," Wells assures me, lacing his fingers through mine and drawing me just a little closer. Close enough to make breathing a challenge.
"I missed you," I whisper, meeting his eyes in a gaze that feels embracing. I let another admission slip through my armor of pride and uncertainty. "I needed you."
I love his face, so full of intelligence, the sweetheart hiding behind the prickly veneer, the shape of his sensuous lips, how adorkably sexy his glasses are. His jet black hair and matching, uniform-like daily black t-shirts and black jeans. Accentuating his every feature with a natural, easy handsomeness I've tried to ignore with failure since the day we met, since our working relationship quickly revealed a person so completely different from the fake Wells played by Eobard Thawne that frankly, I couldn't even see the resemblance anymore.
I love him.
My head is spinning as his dips toward me, time shifting from normal to slow motion as he closes the last gap between us in a light, fluttery kiss.
And just like that, I don't feel so cold anymore.