SNOWBARRY: Sometimes Runs, Sometimes Can't

Chapter 25 - Not Your Cheerleader

She never said when she'd show up, but she always did. Some days she came dressed in black leather, other times in tight white dresses or casual street clothes that still somehow looked like armour. Barry tried not to notice, tried not to let his eyes linger but in the silent lab, every detail stood out. The click of her boots on the floor, the shimmer of her lipstick, the way she carried herself like she owned every room she entered.

She came to taunt him, to provoke and tear at his defences with her sharp tongue.

They often fought. Some days they said nothing at all, just sat in silence on opposite sides of the Cortex while Barry pushed through his training and Frost buried herself in some book she'd pulled off a dusty shelf.

Weeks passed like this.

Barry noticed the changes slowly. She began staying longer. What started as an hour turned into two, then three. Sometimes he'd wake from a haze to find the monitors glowing, the labs alive again. She'd flipped the switches without asking, as if to remind him that this place wasn't dead unless he let it die.

He didn't have it in him to care.

But she kept coming back.

She had filled the silence with fragments of the outside world. Updates about Cisco and Joe, things Barry pretended not to care about but tucked away anyway. She told him the city was holding its own, even without the Flash. That Cisco's tech had armed CCPD in ways even metas had trouble breaking through. That Joe still believed in Henry's case, even if the court didn't.

She spoke like none of it mattered to her, but Barry noticed the intent behind her words. She was dragging him back to the surface, even as he fought to sink deeper.

And sometimes, rarely, but enough to notice, she'd bring food. She always claimed it was for herself, dropping it on the counter with some snide remark. But when she left, the takeout containers or half-finished coffee cups always stayed behind. She claimed she'd forgotten them. Dared him to clean it up.

Barry never thanked her.

But slowly, the empty halls of S.T.A.R. Labs no longer echoed with silence.

Now, there was frost in the air, and with it, a reminder that he wasn't as alone as he wanted to believe.

***

One Friday, Barry caught her looking at him between the glow of the monitors. Not smirking, not taunting. Just looking.

"What?" he muttered, wiping sweat from his face.

She frowned for a second, then finally said, "Have you tried... your speed?" For a second, he thought she'd almost sounded human. But then she fixed her posture, voice sharp, as she continued, "Your speed. Have you tested if any fragments of it are back?"

He stiffened and let out a low bitter laugh. "No. Is there a point in trying if disappointment is just going to follow?"

She rolled her eyes. "That's exactly the kind of thinking I'd expect from someone who's given up."

He stared at her for a moment as she typed something on the computer.

"Isn't it obvious? I tried for a month. Nothing happened. I closed that door," he snapped.

"Why'd you stop?" she asked casually.

"Because nothing is happening. Nothing is ever going to happen. I have to accept that," he said throug his teeth.

"And have you accepted that?" she pressed.

"I'm working on it," he muttered, gesturing at himself.

"Maybe the problem is that you don't want to. And if that's the case... is it so bad?" She finally looked at him and smirked.