Song: The Blackest Day, by Lana Del Rey.
Description: Three times Killer Frost dealt with grief.
Hi all! So I've had an idea for a while but never really did anything with it. But I suddenly got inspiration when I heard this song.
Hints of Flashfrost, but it's mostly implied Savifrost.
TRIGGER WARNING: Brief suicidal themes but nothing too graphic.
...
Killer Frost exhaled slowly, her breath a cold mist. Her feet dangled idly over the building's edge, regardless of the drop below. She stared out at the city lights that painted the black canvas of night. She watched as the cars raced along the roads and the people crossed the streets. The city moved and flowed with the same pace it always had. The people lived on, unaware that it had almost ended. Unaware of what had transpired just nights before.
Those that did know...didn't care. Those that knew were celebrating, breathing a sigh of relief. Because nobody cared that a broken and lost time-remnant was dead. Nobody cared that they had killed a Barry Allen that was just as real as the original. Nobody except her.
And in the end nobody cared that she cared, it didn't matter that his death had caused her pain. Not to them anyway. No one has sympathy for the bad guys. All they cared about was the fact that they won, they got to keep their future. Everyone else be damned.
Killer Frost took another swig of her drink, draining the liquid from the bottle. Truthfully, she wasn't even sure how well the stuff worked on her, but at this point, she was willing to try anything to numb her mind. To numb the pain. Frost leaned forward a bit, letting the neck of the bottle hang loosely between her fingers. She swung it back and forth for several moments, before finally letting it go. The smooth glass slipped through her fingers, shattering on the pavement below.
It then occurred to her, that she had never quite felt so alone. She had no family that wanted her, no friends that would except or forgive her. The only person that had ever understood her, or her pain, was gone. Murdered by the very person he had sought to kill. Now it was just her, left to deal with it alone.
She spared a glance at the shattered bottle on the street, gauging the distance. Then she stood, balancing on the thin concrete ledge that separated her from the drop below. Frost began to walk along it, not caring when her balance faltered. She had been hoping she was buzzed enough to slip, but she was even denied that.
The truth was, she wanted it. She wanted to fall, to just end it. And she knew Caitlin wanted it too. They had both lost everything, lost everyone she ever loved. She had even lost Barry to the Speed Force. Now it was just her.
So she walked along the edge a little more, slowly putting her heel in front of her toe with every step. Then abruptly, she spun on her foot and turned her back to the edge. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting her weight tip backward. The initial feeling of falling sent a wave of adrenaline through her, but it quickly faded. The air softly rushed past her ears as she fell.
She opened her eyes, vision partially obscured by her windblown hair. She watched as the sky got more distant and stories flew past, all the while her body remained relaxed. She breathed out a slow breath, wondering everything all at once. Wondering if it would hurt, wondering if she'd ever see him again. Wondering if the ache in her chest would ever cease. She was getting close now, closer to the bottom...closer to oblivion.
Then at the very last moment, Killer Frost twisted herself and positioned her hands. She shot out two powerful blasts of ice, one to create her path and one to drive herself forward. She put more and more distance between herself and the ground, not really caring what direction she was going or how high she went.
She didn't know what had stopped her, what had changed her mind. But she hadn't gone through with it, and she saw no reason in attempting again.
Very well, then. If she couldn't end herself, then she could at least find a little trouble to get into.
...
Killer Frost watched as Amunet's features contorted with fury and rage.
"You and I could've been gods," she spat, venom in her tone.
Frost was taken aback for an instant, though she didn't show it.
Amunet's words had brought everything rushing back, if only for a moment. Everything she had been trying to put behind her over the past several months. It came in flashes and fragments of memory. A streak of blue here, and a scared face there. A gaze as hard as steel, but a kiss as soft as snow.
He had promised her everything. Power, acceptance...his love. Sure, she had understood that on some level, his intentions were flawed and just a little bit crazy. She didn't care though. She would've done anything for him, because he would've done the same for her. Because he was the only version of Barry Allen that ever loved her. The only version that cared enough to accept her, with all the dark and cold corners of her mind.
Now he was gone, and he wasn't coming back. Not ever.
"I used to work with a god," Frost answered, slipping back into her casual facade. "Over it."
That was a lie.
...
Barry was running, as he always seemed to be. Red tendrils of lightning snaking around him as he moved, eyes in search of that unmistakable shade of platinum.
He seemed to be doing this a lot lately, when Cisco wasn't, that is. It had been like this ever since the whole mess with Earth-X. Killer Frost had been helping them, fighting alongside them. But as soon as the battle was done, she would disappear. Occasionally, she would turn up again on her own, but more often than not they would have to go find her. Most of the time they found her engaged in a fight of some kind.
The worst part was she seemed to be avoiding him in general. She hadn't spoken two words to Barry in the past several weeks. Whenever he entered the room, she always seemed to leave it. It was as troubling as it was confusing. He just didn't know what he had done to make her give him the cold shoulder. (No pun intended.)
Barry could usually tell what Caitlin was thinking, but Killer Frost was a whole other story.
The speedster briefly came to a halt, realizing it had begun to snow. She was close. He broke into a run once more, canvassing the entire area. All the while, he couldn't help think it was an odd place for her to be. He usually found her at bars or clubs, not parks.
Eventually, he did find her. She was sitting on a park bench, quietly watching the snow. The area was dark, illuminated only by the soft glow of a street lamp. Even in the low light, Barry had a clear view of her features. He felt his heart clench, a strange feeling surfacing within him.
Killer Frost wore the saddest look he had ever seen on her, frozen tears streaking does her cheeks. Suddenly, Barry became very uncomfortable. It was like he was seeing something he shouldn't be, something personal.
He was still using his speed, but it was too late to try and leave now. Even if he did, she would still know he had been there. So instead, he opted to move.
Barry skidded to a stop behind her, being sure to make plenty of noise. She immediately went rigid, turning her head slightly. Slowly, he walked around in front of her, taking more time than needed. By the time he got there, the tears were gone and her expression was replaced with that of annoyance.
"What do you want, Flash," she questioned dryly, her arm stretched across the back of the bench.
"It's getting pretty late," Barry replied, "Cisco sent me to check on you."
"I don't need a babysitter," she retorted harshly, rising to her feet. "Now run on home. I'm sure your wife is getting lonely."
Killer Frost began to walk, attempting to brush past him. But Barry caught her arm, holding it gently but firmly. "Not until you go home. Or at least back to the lab."
She turned her head to look at him, an unreadable expression on her face. The light from the lamp seemed to catch her eyes just right, making them glow that much more.
"I hate you some days, Flash," her voice echoed through the still night, snow falling between them.
"Yeah, I know it," he replied, more humor in his voice than anything. Barry had learned not to take her jabs personally.
"What's it tonight?" He continued, willing to test his limits. "Is it because I'm trying to look out for you, trying to help you? Because—"
"Because you look like him," she cut him off, her eyes holding more intensity and sorrow then Barry thought possible. "But you are nothing alike."
In one smooth motion, she tore her arm from his grasp and kept walking. Less than five seconds later she was gone, leaving nothing but a platform of ice in her wake.
All Barry could do was stand there for a moment, taken back. Reality had hit him with all the force of a hurricane, it all began to click into place now. The avoidance, the tears.
He hadn't realized...had never thought about it until that moment. But he supposed he really should've, he was a CSI for crying out loud, and he was raised by a detective. He should've put the pieces together.
Barry was left jarred and dumbstruck, unsure of how he felt. A part of him did feel bad though, guilty even. Because he understood what it was like, he had struggled through it with Jay for the longest time. Finally, Barry came back to himself, realizing how long he'd been standing there.
He sped away, his perception and his reality now altered forever.