Alter Egos

What May Yet Be

"I've been doing alright," she answered, her tone quiet and even. It was a lie, somehow he knew it was.

"That's good," Barry spoke, because, what else was there to say? She probably wasn't going to open up to him, and he couldn't fault her for it. He hadn't exactly been there for her in the past few years. But...maybe he could change that.

"It's...uh...it's been a while," he admitted after a pause, testing the waters.

"It has," she agreed, a tiny smile in her voice. "Maybe we could do some catching up tomorrow? Get some drinks, like old times. Or see a movie?"

Barry felt his heart soar for a brief moment. Then it crashed, like a train derailing straight off a cliff. Suddenly, he remembered that he had made plans for tomorrow, or rather, they were made for him.

"I...I wish I could," Barry admitted, his voice muffled slightly by the hand he was running over his face. "It's just tomorrow is family dinner night at Joe and Cecile's, and they're expecting me and Iris there."

For a brief moment, he considered just ditching and going to spend the day with her instead. It would be so much simpler. But in the end, he knew it would only make things more tense and difficult for everyone. He also thought about asking her to come; having her there would soothe him, but it would also be selfish. It would force her into the middle of his family drama. In the end, he just left it alone.

"Right, right. Sorry, I should've realized," she answered quietly, a faint edge to her voice.

Barry began to wonder if he'd made a mistake by not saying anything more. When did talking to her become so difficult? How had they drifted so far apart?

"If you want I could come over tonight though," Barry offered, hoping he could still salvage the conversation.

He wanted to see her...he needed to, really.

"No, it's alright. It's getting pretty late anyway," she declined, an apprehension in her words. Barry felt himself deflate instantly, his shoulders sagging.

"I'll see you..." Caitlin began but paused. When would he get to see her?"
"Soon," she eventually concluded.

Barry remained quiet for a beat, weighing his options and his next words carefully. He found that he didn't want the call to end, he didn't want to have to say goodbye just yet. Before Barry could quite register it, he was in flashtime, the world around him now at a standstill. In the next few milliseconds that passed, Barry allowed his mind to drift. He thought about her, and what things had once been between them.

After he was struck by lightning, she was one of the first things he saw when he woke up. He remembered it so clearly, her and Cisco hovering above him, the sound of Lady Gaga playing through the background. He had sat straight up from the surprise of it, a breathing tube still wrapped around his face. After that she had sprung into action, asking him questions and checking his vitals at a dizzying pace.

He hadn't quite known what to think of it all at first, what to think of her. She was guarded in a way others might mistake for cold. But not him, he saw right through it on the first day, and he soon found out that everything she did was because she cared.

Then, as the weeks stretched on and Barry began to accept his role as a hero (and the burdens that came with it) he found himself taking solace in her care. Taking comfort in her gentle and precise touches as she would piece his broken body back together. It was nice, Barry had found, having someone who worried about his wellbeing while he was out there worrying about everyone else's. He was Central City's hero, but she was his.

Weeks turned to months, and they grew even closer. They helped each other through good times and bad; through grief, trauma, and the struggles that came with this path they had both found themselves on.