Chapter 9: The Dichotomy of Love and Hate

Frost was having a bad day - which was saying something, considering how turbulent the past few weeks had been.

There were many reasons that today stood out as particularly horrid. It started in the early morning hours, when Frost awoke from a fitful sleep. She'd been plagued with fragmented nightmares for hours. Most of them were fleeting blips that left her quivering in the wake of a threat she couldn't identify. Others were extensive and detailed, uprooting fears from deep within her subconscious – the likes of which she hadn't been faced with since childhood. The creaky basement stairs of her grandparents' house, the unknown entity lurking in her closet, the exam score which was less than perfect – and therefore unacceptable. Her mind was dredging up all sorts of horrors.

After trying (and failing) to get back to sleep, then the headaches set in. It was a sharp jab behind her eyes, throbbing pain in her temples, a dull ache at the base of her skull – all at the same time. And once she had tripped twice on her way to the bathroom, Frost determined that these were the neurological side effects of the cure. (Awfully ironic calling it a "cure"at this point, though; so far, all it'd done was make her feel worse.) The headache persisted through a Doctorial Pursuit marathon, the rising of the sun, a bowl of cereal, and her freezing-cold shower. When she parted the curtains to brighten the room, Frost also discovered that light sensitivity had joined her miserable crew of symptoms. A large pair of black sunglasses – the ones reserved for karaoke bar hangovers – were included in her outfit for the day.

None of this went over well at her biweekly STAR Labs checkup, and it just made Barry even more insufferable. He and Iris left just moments ago, with the promise of an ice pack, a weighted blanket, and a (mild-ish) sedative. It was, of course, a temporary solution. If Frost's theory was right, her and Caitlin's minds were just beginning to meld, and that process would be neither quick nor painless.

Her theory stemmed mainly from the fact that these nightmares were much more akin to memories – just… not hers. She was seeing and hearing and doing things that struck her as foreign yet simultaneously familiar. The voices in her dreams were those of family members that Killer Frost had never interacted with. It was Caitlin's family, Caitlin's experiences, Caitlin's life. And not for the first time, Frost was struck with just how little she could truly attribute to herself. She was walking around in a borrowed body, living rent-free in a pre-occupied mind. What would be left behind to indicate that she'd been there? Would she be a permanent stain on the cloth of Caitlin's consciousness, or would she wash away in the spin cycle? What mark would Killer Frost leave on the world?

This was, however, what she'd signed up for. Frost knew that, if it worked properly, the cure would rewrite her corrupt code. In fact, that was the whole point. And she'd accepted that. Except, now, faced with her own mortality and insignificance, Frost was beginning to regret her decision.

With that thought came another spark of pain in her head, along with a new symptom. With a suddenness that sent her mind reeling, Frost was thrown into the bowels of flashback. It was just for a second; not even long enough to comprehend. But, for that brief moment, she wasn't in STAR Labs anymore, and the space before her was not the Cortex. Then, another blip – longer this time. Scenes flashed (Ha! Hilarious.) before her eyes, along with whispers of sound and phantom sensations.

A crash. Shattered glass. Hard concrete. Then, a side mirror and icy eyes and white hair. (And then a scream.)

A hospital, cold and sterile. A bed, soft and occupied. A father, a husband, a friend. A short time left to say goodbye.

Frost's head ached even more as she stumbled out of the MedBay, trying to physically distance herself from the onslaught. But she was fighting something she could never leave behind – her brain.

A beautiful face. Kind eyes. An infectious laugh. A new adventure. Strangled by fire and by fright. A heat that singed her in more ways than one. A man, once lost, found again – and then lost forever. A husband, a friend… never to become a father.

A bolt of lightning. A destructive disaster. A new patient. A miracle. (A curse?) A man far too similar and far too brave and far too stupid. A tragic childhood that hit far too close to home. And, from within it all, hope.

A kiss. An unexplored possibly. Strong arms and cool wind and electricity and… understanding. Her guardian angel, her protector, her wonderfully wild card. (Her condemner, as it later turned out.)

A betrayal. A shock. A lifelong mystery solved. A tragic end. A new beginning.

A black mask. A menacing face and a deep voice and a twisted soul. The death of a relationship in progress. (Proof that she was better off alone.) Being ripped away from everything familiar and happy and safe. A dark, dank, drafty room and an uncomfortable bed and a monstrous man who, despite his best efforts, would be neither husband nor friend nor father.

"Stop it, stop it, stop it…" Frost groaned, clutching her head.

A startling discovery. A doppelganger. A fractured mirror image with a past just as tough and a partner just as dead. A warning example, an introspective glance. The fragile, tenuous beginnings of an alliance. …Another broken heart. (A shadow that would fall upon her soon enough.)

Another senseless tragedy. A hero pushed to the brink. A decision, made with no regard to anyone else. And suddenly… a chill in her veins.

Her breaths came out as erratic pants. She started to tremble like a jittery rabbit. Frost crouched down, hugging herself tight, desperately trying to stave off the breakdown of her treacherous body.

Several desperate attempts to delay the inevitable. Close calls. Moments when her control nearly slipped. Fearful nights dreaming of harming the friends that she called family. Frozen showers and goosebumps down her spine and unintentional popsicles. Terror and pain lurking just under the surface.

Then… freedom. Liberation. Vengeance.

"No, no, no, shut up! Please." Frost found herself begging an invisible enemy for mercy.

Bare feet. A forest at night. Moonlight shining through tree branches. Snow between her toes. Uncertainty. A dark, looming figure. A familiar face. A decision, a promise, and an agreement.

Him.

Frost screamed, loud and long and lost. With the scream came a blast of cold mist, covering everything in front of her in a thin layer of ice – and not the smooth kind for skating; the ragged, sharp kind for plane crashes on a snowy mountain. And a voice – "Frost! What is going on…!" – pierced her uninterrupted wails, barely registering at the back of her mind. Suddenly, there was an icicle dagger in her hand, and she was moving to destroy the nearest object. The nearest object turned out to be the mini fridge.

So, she gave it one big, hearty stab through the top, followed by smaller, faster hits. Ice was flying, metal was bending, and hinges were snapping. Another shout from beyond her view – "Frost!" – but she just kept on attacking. Smashing and slashing and scratching until-

"Caitlin!"

In an instant, the world was quiet again.

Savitar was standing before her, his hand wrapped around her wrist.

Frost looked up at him, hate burning in her eyes. "Savitar…! Savitar, gets your hands off-"

Then, she noticed. She noticed their surroundings. The two of them were concealed in this… ball of lightening. There were jagged streaks of red and yellow encircling them, creating an impenetrable bubble. And outside of this, this forcefield…. Well, time had stopped. Time had literally stopped. A few of her smaller icicles were stalled mid-air, on their way to assault the fridge. A package of jello was suspended mere inches above the ground, seconds away from bursting on impact. The fridge itself was halfway to falling on its side.

They were occupying one moment in time, stretched out for eternity.

"Flashtime," Savitar said, seeing the questions brewing in her eyes. "That's what I call it. Or, what Barry called it, anyway."

"Flashtime? I don't understand; what is this?" she asked, reaching out to graze one of the lightning bolts with the tip of her finger. It sent a small jolt through her, a spike of adrenaline, and then returned to its circular path.

"This is what it's like for me, when I'm running. I can… make the world around me slow down. And I discovered that, if I grab onto someone else, I can slow down their world, too."

"But-but, how are you doing this? I mean, you'd have to be running at least-"

Savitar quirked a brow. "Your Caitlin is showing."

Frost looked back over at him. "What's going on, Savitar? Why did you… bring me here?"

Now both Savitar's brows were raised. "'Why'? Are you serious? Frost, you were going berserk. You needed to calm down before you wrecked anything else."

Oh, well, now Frost knew he was lying. Savitar thrived on chaos; he would've delighted in seeing STAR Labs fall to her tirade. Which means that… his motives were… not entirely selfish. He was doing something solely for her benefit, exercising some of his power to help her.

It was at this moment that Frost realized just how… close they were. Looking back up at him - looking patiently over at her – she noticed there was barely a foot between them. And suddenly, she was very aware of his touch on her arm. They had never touched before – not like this, not outside of a patient/doctor context – and she hadn't expected it to feel like this. She hadn't expected it to feel like anything. But… sparks of electricity were shooting up her arm, emanating from her and Savitar's point of contact.

And suddenly, the world was a whole lot quieter, a whole lot stiller, a whole lot smaller.

"Frost?" Savitar piped up, noticing her startled expression. "Are you… good?"

It was the first time in a long time that his voice didn't hold anger or contempt or derision. It wasn't quite caring, but it wasn't hateful, either. It was… uncertain, in a way. Like he wasn't sure what to do. This was uncharted territory, hallowed ground. They had gone from working with to despising to tolerating each other, but they'd never been all that sincere. There hadn't been an emotionally vulnerable conversation or an understanding commiseration or even a remotely gentle moment. But now…

Energy was just… dancing excitedly between them, as if their proximity appeased the very universe. They were opposing forces, total contradictions. Their powers equally matched each other, creating balance in an otherwise unsteady world. There was a tug-and-pull that existed between them which, despite its destructive manifestations, felt so right. They were charged ions, drawn together by their differences. He was a raging cauldron of unbridled static and speed, somehow composed and unruly at the same time – the eye of the storm. She was a stiff, rigid structure of ice and snow, just malleable enough to create a sculpture.

She didn't feel like ice right now, though. She felt like water, smooth and flowing and unburdened. The literal heat of the moment wasn't stifling, like she thought it would be. Instead, her limbs buzzed with vitality. Her cheeks warmed, and her ears burned, and her chest tightened. And more than just that, she sought the heat he was producing, and she could smell the energy coming off him and, and… she liked it.

And when she looked at him, staring right through to his soul, she saw blazing fires and bright lights and the future. She saw the world that he had promised to give her. She saw the power, the potential. This man – this frustrating, infuriating, enigmatic man – perhaps wasn't the enemy anymore.

Her breath caught. Uh oh.

A lot of strange things had come to pass at STAR Labs. Any member of Team Flash could stumble upon an odd scenario at any given moment. None so odd, though, as what Barry and Iris were faced with right now.

The Cortex was in shambles. Sheets of ice covered the floor, the walls, Barry's suit. The fridge was destroyed, completely and utterly destroyed. Jello and soda and last week's takeout covered whichever patches of floor that the ice didn't. And in the middle of it all – both surprisingly and very unsurprisingly – stood Savitar and Killer Frost. They were arm's width from one another, Savitar's hand grasped firmly around Frost's wrist. And they just… stared. At each other.

"This… is kinda creeping me out," Barry said, just loud enough for Iris to hear. "Should we…? We should do something, right?"

He turned to look at his fiancé, expecting her to look just as confused and disturbed as him. However, Iris was just looking thoughtful. "…'Love and hate – they're so close. It's easy to mistake one for the other,'" she mused, after a beat.

Now Barry was more confused than ever. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Iris finally returned his gaze, the wheels in her head visibly turning. "Savitar said that a few weeks ago, when we first brought him back to STAR Labs."

"Right… but, what does that have to do with this?"

"I think… I think I finally understand what he meant. The opposite of love isn't hate; it's indifference. Hating someone requires effort – passion, even. People only get angry when they care. If you didn't care, then it wouldn't matter; that would be indifference. But no - hate can only occur… in a place where there was once love…"

"Iris, that sounds really insightful and all, but I still have no idea what you're talking about."

Iris sighed. Why did men have to be so slow to catch up? "Love and hate are two sides of the same coin; that's what Savitar was saying. And this-" she gestured to Savitar and Frost "- This is the other side of the coin. The side we haven't seen yet."

AN: I am insanely proud of this one! It's my favorite chapter so far - possibly of the whole story. I've now reached the end of uploading pre-written chapters (I started this story in 2020 and have been posting it on AO3; I only recently decided to cross-post it on FFN). Going forward, I'll update as I write each new chapter, and I write a new chapter whenever I'm inspired to do so. The updates, therefore, will be sporadic, but I've got this story planned out to the end and have every intention of finishing it.