Description: In the silence, Barry allows his mind to drift to what might have been...and what may yet be. Companion piece/sequel to 'What Might Have Been.'
...
Three weeks; it had only been three weeks. If someone had told him that in less then a month he'd be sitting in an empty house with a discarded wedding ring, he wouldn't have believed them. But here he was. Three weeks since they had stopped Cicada. Three weeks since he had lost his only child. Three weeks since Thawne had won. Three weeks since Barry had started systematically distancing himself from everyone and everything.
Iris had reached her boiling point at week one. Everything that had been churning and building since before Barry took Nora back home finally came out. Iris screamed, and Barry didn't really say anything, too tired and weary to argue by then. After that, she packed her things and left, dropping her wedding band in his palm before she went. Two days later, she filed for a divorce.
The entire series of events had blindsided him, but looking back, he wondered if maybe it shouldn't have. Sure, they had their fair share of problems, but he had always told himself that they could be fixed, smoothed over, and mended. Because he loved her and they were meant to be. But maybe the reality was, their foundation had always been cracked, and he was just too blind to see it. But regardless of the reason, it didn't change the fact that he now found himself sitting alone with a deep ache in his chest.
Alone. Alone had become his normal in the past few weeks, and really it was his own fault. He was the one that was distancing himself and staying away from the lab. He thought he needed time and space. Yet, if he were being perfectly honest, a part of him had hoped that the team wouldn't let him do that again. That they'd...pursue him this time around. But they hadn't, and in retrospect, Barry isn't sure he blamed them. When was the last time he went out of his way to be involved in their lives? The truth was, Barry couldn't remember.
The speedster let out a heavy sigh, running a hand over his face. After that, he set the ring down on the coffee table and laid back on the couch he had been sitting on. He settled in and closed his eyes, hoping a few hours of sleep would clear his mind.
However, he was soon brought back to reality by a distinct vibrating sound, the tune of 'Summer Nights' drifting quietly through the air. Barry sat straight up and snatched his phone from the table. He didn't have to look to know who it was, yet he found himself staring at the contact in disbelief. It was a surprise...yet a very pleasant one. If there was anybody that he needed to talk to, it was probably Caitlin. She had always had a way of helping him through even the most difficult of times.
Barry quickly answered the phone, a soft "hey," escaping his lips.
"Hey," she greeted equally as soft. Yet there was a weariness behind her words.
Suddenly, a thought entered Barry's head, one that he hadn't considered when he first picked up the phone.
"Is everything alright? I didn't miss a meta alert, did I?" He asked with concern, hoping beyond hope that he hadn't somehow not heard it while he was wallowing in his own misery.
"No, no, everything's fine," Caitlin assured, "I just...I wanted to see how you were doing," she added. Barry felt as if somehow she had been able to read his mind and emotions from afar.
At first, he thought about telling her everything. He thought about just laying it all out, and asking for her advice. But then he thought better of it. She had just lost her dad; she had enough of her own grief and turmoil to deal with, without adding his to the mix.
"I'm good," Barry eventually replied, hoping his voice didn't betray him. "How have you been?" He inquired, regretting that he hadn't been asking her all along.
"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.
Somewhere along the way, his feelings for her snuck upon him. It hadn't happened in any one particular moment, nor did he realize it on any one particular day. It was just that after a while, her smile became his smile, and her sadness became his sadness. She had started as a stranger that he probably never would've met had it not been for a bolt of lightning, and had ended up becoming a necessity in his daily life.
Sometimes, he would catch himself wondering why he never told her how he felt. He wondered why he didn't tell her that day in the hallway, or in the quiet of Mercury Labs. Or even in the pipeline when she had held an icicle to his chest and he had dared her to kill him, knowing deep down that she never could.
He wondered where they'd be in their relationship, or if they would've worked at all. And strangely enough, sometimes he caught himself wondering if they still could.
...
The car pulled into the driveway slowly, the faint sound of pebbles crunching against asphalt drifting through the air.
"And you're sure I'm not intruding?" Caitlin spoke with a hint of unease, her fingers still wrapped around the ignition key.
"Of course not," Barry assured easily, "Joe and Cecile love you, you're family too, remember?"
Eventually, Caitlin nodded. "Okay," she answered after a pause, a warm smile tugging at her lips.
Barry thought for a moment, before adding, "But if you want I could take you home. It's just...with everything that's happened I don't want you to feel uncomfortable, or like you have to come with me." He glanced at her from the passenger seat, unsure. He really didn't want to drag her into the middle of his problems.
"Barry," Caitlin answered in a low tone, reaching across the cab and placing her hand on his arm, "I don't mind, really. In fact, I'm flattered that you asked me to come."
Barry smiled softly, giving her a small nod.
"I gotta warn you though," he began as they both unbuckled their seatbelts, his voice almost playful, "it's probably gonna be super awkward."
"You're talking to someone who's family reunions have never been smooth. Or warm," Caitlin only rolled her eyes, equally as playful. "As long as no one turns into a vengeful ice-monster, I'm sure I'll be fine."
Barry only grinned and shook his head. After that, they both got out of the car and began to make their way towards the familiar olive drab house. Barry offered her his arm and she took it, slipping hers through the crook of his elbow.
Together they walked up the steps, both their hearts feeling just a little bit lighter.
...
They began to gravitate back towards each other after that. It was slow at first, but the difference between them was noticeable. After a while, he found that he preferred to go over to the lab for lunch. He would often spend his afternoons with her, going over a case or simply just enjoying each other's presence.
After a while, Cisco began to join them, filling them in on his adventures in ordinary life. It was on one such afternoon that a meta alert pinged, sending them all into action. Barry suited up in an instant, and Cisco slid behind the large semi-circle desk almost as quickly. He slipped back into the team dynamic flawlessly, as though he had never left.
Barry smiled as he ran, Cisco and Caitlin's voice crackling over his com. It felt like the fractured pieces of his life were finally starting to fall back together.
...
His divorce was finalized, and Iris made a permanent move to Coast City. Surprisingly, Barry wasn't as distraught as he thought he'd be. It still hurt, losing her, losing Nora, but every day it got a bit more bearable.
Later that week, he and Caitlin went out to dinner. It wasn't a date, that was what he told himself. They were just two friends having a nice evening and supporting each other. He walked her home afterward, his jacket draped over her shoulders. They talked and laughed, and Barry felt more at ease than he had in years.
About halfway there they got an alert and spent the rest of the evening chasing after a meta that could shape-shift into whatever food he ate. It seemed funny at first, but proved to be quite a bit more difficult than they initially thought. When they finally trudged into the cortex at 1:00 am, they were covered in mustard and smelled vaguely like a Big Belly Burger. Cisco thought it was hilarious.
...
The Crisis happened early. He should've seen it coming. After everything with Eobard, Nora, and even Iris, there was no way the timeline made it out unscathed. Yet somehow, against all odds and everything he thought he knew about the future, so did he. As the smoke cleared and the red sky vanished, Barry stood amongst the rubble. The Reverse Flash did not.
Barry locked eyes with Caitlin from across the battle-torn street, a wave of relief flooding her features. They both exhaled a shaky breath, a quiet laugh bubbling up from their chests. Despite the fact that Barry was the one with super speed, Caitlin made it there before he could blink, throwing her arms around him. Barry held onto her so tightly, her face buried in the crook of his neck. He released a breath he didn't realize he was holding and brought his hand up to gently stroke the back of her hair.
"I'm here," he whispered softly, a warmth slowly enveloping him. "I'm still here."
They continued to hold onto each other, swaying in the middle of the street. Then, slowly, Caitlin pulled away, her hand never quite leaving his arm. They held each other's gaze for a moment or two, their eyes searching.
Caitlin was the first to move forward and Barry seemed to meet her halfway. She gently but firmly pressed her lips to his, her hand reaching up to cup his face. Barry reciprocated, the kiss lasting for several seconds. When they did finally pull away, they didn't go far, their foreheads pressed gently together. Barry exhaled softly and they both closed their eyes, savoring the moment.
They were finally free. Free of Eobard and free of the crisis. They had faced it together and had won. They no longer knew what the future would hold, but it didn't really matter, because they would face that together too.
...
When Barry awoke, it was to the sight of pale morning light streaming across the ceiling. Caitlin lay next to him, their limbs tangled together loosely. She stirred and snuggled closer to him, her arm draped lightly over his chest.
"What time is it," Barry spoke groggily, reaching a hand up to rub his eye.
"Early," Caitlin answered sleepily, throwing a glance at the alarm clock. "We still have an hour or so before we have to be at the lab."
Barry made a sound of acknowledgment and gently pulled the covers further over them both. He let out a quiet, content sigh, and prepared to settle back in. However, his ears were soon perked by the sound of two sets of very fast feet running down the hall outside.
...
Barry snapped back into reality rather abruptly, suddenly becoming aware he was no longer in flashtime. He could hear Caitlin's quiet and steady breaths over the line, and he briefly wondered how long he'd been silent.
"I'll see you soon," he blurted out, copying the last thing he could remember her saying.
"Goodnight, Barry," she replied, her voice laced with something he couldn't quite place.
"Goodnight, Cait," Barry echoed, his chest feeling tight.
After that he heard three quiet beeps, signaling that the call had ended. He slowly pulled the phone away from his ear, simply staring at the black screen for a minute. Then he slid it back onto the coffee table and stood up. He began to pace, the memories of the rabbit hole he had fallen into still lingering in his mind. He didn't know what it meant. He didn't know if it was just his imagination getting the better of him, or if it was something more.
But he soon found that there was one thing he did know; he couldn't just leave it like that. He needed to see her, he needed to talk to her, and not just over the phone. Before Barry could talk himself out of it, he was running, the crackle of lightning urging him along. He stopped just outside her front door, skidding a little as he did. Barry drew in a fortifying breath, and reached for the handle. However, as he did the knob was jerked away, the door swinging open. Caitlin nearly ran into him, letting out a shocked gasp once she saw him.
"Barry," she breathed out quietly. "What are you—"
"I...I needed to talk to you. Really talk to you," he answered before she could even finish. "The truth is, I'm not okay, I haven't been for a long time. And I don't think you have either," he admitted, a raw kind of sincerity bleeding through.
"Can we just...talk. Like we used to," Barry asked, nervously running a hand over the back of his neck. "Please."
Caitlin seemed taken back at first, like his words had blindsided her. Then she smiled, and Barry felt all of the tension in his stomach melt away.
"I'd love that," she replied after a moment, an almost relieved look in her eyes. Like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.
Barry nodded, now brandishing a calm smile of his own. She moved to the side and Barry stepped in, allowing the door to close behind them.