It's a bit of a shorter chapter-but (hopefully you'll agree) not short of substance. Some elements of the interrogation are inspired by Agent Carter episode 2x04 (which actually partially inspired the entire fic), with obvious tweaks, but if anything feels familiar, that's probably why.
Enjoy!
The police station was cold, but not as cold as the warehouse. Caitlin kept that particular chill encased inside of her as a remembrance, as strength.
"I'm pulling a lot of strings here," Joe said. He ushered her down the hall as quickly as he could to evade the gawkers who were not used to seeing women in hospital gowns walking through the police station. "I'll still be outside the interrogation room, but only me. You understand?"
"I won't need long," Caitlin said. "Just let me do what I need to do."
She didn't have time to check for Joe's dubious expression or faltering step. Though she didn't know exactly where the interrogation rooms were, she barreled purposely forward. All hurt in her body was forgotten. She was outside herself with singular determination.
When they reached the interrogation block, though, he finally did stop her one last time.
"Be careful," he said. There was nothing to indicate that he had seen her hidden syringes, but Caitlin felt a flash of guilt anyway at the fear in his voice. "Just because she can't physically hurt you anymore doesn't mean she isn't dangerous. She has leverage. She has emotional power over you."
"I'll be careful," Caitlin said hollowly. Before Joe could give her a hug or something else so irrational, she turned toward the one-way glass behind which the woman sat, steeled herself, and pushed through the door.
The woman initially didn't look up, but when Caitlin planted herself across the table from her, she raised her head slowly.
"You here to beg again?" she said, looking haggard and tired and slightly afraid, a mirror to Caitlin, but with a touch of smugness. "Here to beg for the lives of your friends?"
"No, I'm done begging." Caitlin slammed the syringes down on the metal table, out of sight from Joe at the window, but in full view of the woman. "Rosie Canton, right?"
"Rose," said the woman coldly.
"I don't really care," Caitlin shot back. "All I care about is you giving me the information that I need."
"You cut a real intimidating figure in that hospital gown," Canton said. "The bruises are an improvement, though, I must say."
"I don't even care how I get that information," Caitlin continued smoothly, as if she hadn't been interrupted. "All I need is a location. Just a location."
"I'm not scared of you."
"You should be."
Canton sneered, and Caitlin seized her opportunity. Still blocking the window, she grasped one of Canton's arms, which were handcuffed to the table, and twisted it to expose the veins. Then she lined up the syringe, slid it under the skin, and released the contents into Canton's bloodstream.
"You needed me because I was a biochemist, correct?" Caitlin said, as Canton jerked her arm away, too late. "You should feel this soon. Depending on your metabolism, I'd give it a minute or so. Maybe less."
"So you're going to kill me?" Canton spat, her fingers curling and uncurling.
"Oh, eventually this will," Caitlin said. "But not before the unbelievable pain kicks in. Imagine fire coursing through your veins. For an hour. An hour of agony before you actually die. And the only thing that will quench that fire is this." She held up the second syringe, filled with a clear liquid that might have been water.
"I've experienced pain," Canton said, though Caitlin didn't miss how much she had blanched. "This isn't going to change anything."
"Try telling me that when this has kicked in." Caitlin forced a hollow smile as Canton tensed. "Oh, do you feel it already? That was faster than even I anticipated."
She watched, with a kind of detached smugness, the woman clenching her fists and this time holding the tension. Canton's face creased.
"You wouldn't let me die," she said. "You're one of the good guys, right?"
Caitlin shrugged. "Seems like you were pretty keen on letting us die. I'm simply returning the favor. And offering you the same choice to save your own life."
The moment of change was visible; Canton's face contorted grotesquely and she let out an unrestrained whine. It was clear that the poison had exploded in full. With a wheeze, Canton doubled over as much as she could with her arms attached to the table.
"Maybe you're not...as good as you think you are," she said.
"I thought that was your whole premise," Caitlin said coldly. "Us scientists at STAR Labs aren't good guys at all. We're monsters."
"Aren't people who create monsters...monsters themselves?" Canton said. She lifted her head with visible effort, sweat beading on her forehead.
"Metahumans aren't monsters," Caitlin snarled, leaning close. "Just because your fiancé was killed by one—"
"I don't have the right to say those things, is that it?" Canton shot back. "No big deal, I only watched my fiancé die—"
"Watched?" Caitlin, even in the furor of it, paused. "You said—you and Jason were knocked out by the meta."
"—by a freak," continued Canton without pause. "You've seen them. The freaks don't have control. They're dangerous."
She was struggling with the promised fire in her veins, sweating bullets now, jerking futilely at the handcuffs as if that might help assuage the pain. Any second Joe might sense that something was a bit too fishy and step in. If he came in and assessed the situation, he might immediately administer the antidote without question, and then Caitlin's one piece of leverage would be gone. There wasn't a lot of time.
However, she couldn't shake the creeping doubt that came along with Canton's slip-up. Coming down slightly from the high of her fervor, she creased her brow.
"What do you know about the meta that attacked you?" she asked.
But Canton froze, a horrified realization crossing her face, before resuming her agonized struggle in full. "You have to let me out of here. You have to release me."
Caitlin actually guffawed, although the change in Canton's disposition was unsettling. "Maybe when hell freezes over," she said. "Answer the question, or give up the location."
"Get me out!" Canton screamed, and once again Caitlin slammed her hands flat on the table.
"Answer the question!" she shouted with equal intensity. "What do you know about the meta who attacked you?"
Canton thrashed, her nails squealing on the metal surface of the table. "The meta didn't attack me!"
Caitlin blinked. "What?"
One more jerk, one more throaty cry. When Canton looked up next, she had the appearance of a cornered animal: terrified, rigid, but deeply, deeply savage.
"I am the meta."
Caitlin barely had time to register what was happening and duck as thorns the size of pocketknife blades protruded from Canton's fingernails and exploded outward.
Caitlin's knees hit the floor with bruising force. All of the air was sucked from her body as a new, sharp pain sluiced through her arm. Her hand came away bloody: buried deep in the soft flesh of her upper arm, inches above her brace, was a huge black thorn.
A chunk of plaster sailed past her cheek. Crouched below the table, breathless, she chanced a look backward. The other four thorns had buried themselves in the wall just feet from her. There was another screech from Canton, a shattering of glass—more thorns had burst outward and collided with the one-way mirror. As glass rained down among more of the grisly black thorns, Caitlin herself screamed.
The door banged open, and the fiery warmth of Joe's presence enveloped the space. The table rattled, more thorns cut through the air, and the antidote syringe dropped to the floor. Miraculously, it didn't shatter on impact, so Caitlin dove for it.
"Joe!" she said. "We need to give this to her!"
She rolled the syringe to him, too on-edge to even try standing. Without question, Joe scooped up the cylinder and bounded across the room to Canton, who sounded like she was thrashing violently again. The chaos was interrupted, or perhaps expounded upon, by her unusually-throaty "Don't touch me!"
In the din, she almost sounded like a different person. Caitlin started crawling for the door, throwing a hand over her head uselessly as thorns again barraged the wall, but by the grunt that followed, it was clear that Joe had managed to administer the antidote. The inhuman sounds persisted, and more glass rained down from the mirror, and the room was stormed by two more police officers who had heard the commotion. They brandished a familiar-looking weapon, ironically one of Cisco's own design.
As they fired off the Boot, Joe circled back around and picked the bleeding Caitlin up off the floor by her good arm. She was so weak from shock that she didn't protest; she allowed herself to be ushered out of the room without a word, the sounds of chaos still trailing after her.
Ayo! Thanks for reading!
So, now that the cat's out of the bag, I can finally tell you that, like my story When the Bough Breaks, I am using a (VERY LOOSE) interpretation of an existing character from the comics. So, slight disclaimer there. I am, however, using her for my own purposes and fitting her into the world/narrative. All will be explained!
As always, please consider leaving a comment on your way out. See you Wednesday.
Till next time,
Penn