Sliding all the way, and as fast as she can without inflicting anymore injury, she was finally able to take Barry back to the S.T.A.R Labs, her cold hands red with frozen blood from Barry's wounds. Cisco came out to meet them and despite his repulsion to her, he pulled Barry's other arm around him and they both lifted his legs, carrying him to the bed. As soon as they placed Barry on the table, Cisco moved to stand on the opposite side of the table.

"Broken leg and shoulder," he muttered as he examined Barry, "Also a head wound. His speed played against him today."

"We need to set his bones right before they heal themselves," Caitlin murmured, her cold fingers moving over his leg, tracing his shoulder. The dried red of her hands was providing a stark contrast with the paleness of her skin, merging easily with the crimson of Flash's suit.

"Wait, you are gonna treat him?" Cisco asked, his eyes wide with shock. She glared at him.

"Before I became a supervillain, I was a doctor," she said sarcastically, "Now hand me those bandages."

Grimacing, Cisco brought the bandages and instead of putting them on her outstretched hand, he placed them on the bed. Caitlin snatched them up, ignoring the avoidance, and placed a folded up gauze on his head wound.

"Place your hand here," she ordered absently. Cisco bit his lower lip nervously as he waited for her to remove her hand before placing his own. Again, Caitlin ignored and set about to work at Barry's shoulder.

"His head wound need stitches," she commented after spending a long stretch of silence on putting his bones straight, "Bring me thread and needle. And some gauze and water."

Cisco ran over to the sink and brought her a bowl of water which he also, instead of giving straight to her, placed on the small table beside the bed. She let out an impatient hiss but said nothing. When he did that the fourth time, putting a threaded needle on the table instead of her waiting hand, she glared up at him, her irises a lighter blue with anger.

"Do that once more and I will put an icicle through your neck," she threatened.

The warning took Cisco by surprise. Up until now, she had always ignored his repulsion to her, never thinking much of it. But this time she seemed to get worked up pretty badly for it. Maybe it was the moment: the fact that Barry was lying injured that seemed to make her impatient. Or maybe she really did approach the limit of her already short patience. For whatever reason, her imminent threat brought to his mind another - a very distant - memory.

I know how to perform a lobotomy.

And something about this nettled and angry threat of Killer Frost was so much like the Caitlin he knew that he actually started wondering if Barry had been right all along.

"Scissor." she called again, hand outstretched. Gulping, Cisco placed the scissor on her palm, her elongated fingers touching the tip of his. He winced slightly.

"Oh get over yourself, Cisco," she scolded annoyingly as she bent over Barry to cut the thread, "Do you really think you can stop me from killing you by standing a few feet away?"

Cisco gulped, "Just . . . you know, trying to lower the appeal. Make it easier for you," he gave a really lame excuse.

"I don't know about easier but it's definitely getting annoying," she huffed in irritation, putting bandage around Barry's head, "We need to put an IV in him. He has lost too much blood."

As she put on the gloves and hung the IV fluid bag on the stand beside the bed, Cisco stared at her, "I didn't know . . . that there was something remaining . . . of Caitlin . . . in you."

She started to say something but Barry started moving then, low moans coming out of his mouth.

"Oh -" he groaned, his hand raised to his other shoulder, "Why does - what happened - why does everything hurts so much?" His hand was tilted away so that he was only able to see Cisco.

"You crashed into a boulder running at that speed," Cisco provided, "You broke your shoulder and leg. And your forehead has a deep cut."

"You have lost a lot of blood," Caitlin murmured as she disinfect the IV site and inserted the catheter in his arm, "So I'm hooking you to an IV."

Barry's eyes widened slightly as he turned his head around to look at her, surprised at the sight of her sterile gloves, "Lucky me," he murmured drowsily, a lazy smile appearing on his face, "I'm being treated by Dr. Caitlin Snow again."

She didn't crack a smile. If anything, her features turned even harder.

"Cisco, cut me a bit of tape," she ordered busily. Cisco quickly abided the command.

Barry raised his eyebrows, unable to stay a quiet observer, "You two seem to be very friendly," he noticed, "How long was I out? Ten - twenty years?"

Cisco started to grin but stopped at the look on Caitlin's face. She looked ready to murder - which, knowing her - she will not hesitate to do if provoked.

"Ahem -" Cisco cleared his throat, scratching his head awkwardly, "I think you should rest for now, let your wounds heal."

"Sleep if you can," Caitlin added curtly.

Barry stared at her face, his eyes narrowing anxiously. She seemed thoroughly distressed about something, her eyes downcast, her face paler than usual. He glanced inquiringly at Cisco but he was eyeing Caitlin just as nervously, uncertainties flickering in his eyes. Barry felt his mouth went dry as he remembered the incident from few minutes ago.

Putting his arm back on the bed, she turned to go. Barry swiftly caught hold of her cold wrist - effectively making her lurch in her stride.

"Caitlin," Barry said quietly, "What happened with the meta? Is he -?" he left the question hanging, afraid to finish it.

"Alive?" Caitlin hissed sharply, "Fortunately enough, yes."

"You stopped," Barry confirmed, his voice holding all the awe for her feat, "You stopped yourself." The thought lifted his spirits considerably, a lightness filling him at yet another display of Caitlin's potential to be herself.

Caitlin stared at his wide hopeful eyes for a long moment before looking away, a slip of her face revealing an immeasurable sadness before she carefully blanked her face again, "Yes," she murmured, not meeting Barry's eyes, her tone stiff, "I stopped."

She snatched her hand out of his grip and walked away, her steps hurried.

Barry stared after her receding form, frowning in bewilderment. Something else - something entirely different was going wrong with her. The fear of loosing her took control of his mind once again.

Suddenly feeling hollow, he looked at Cisco, an unknown fear shimmering in his eyes, "Don't let her go," he almost pleaded.

Cisco took a deep breath, knowing what it must take for Barry to ask him to do one thing he definitely didn't want to, and raised his eyebrows, "Dude, she's the one with the superpowers this time. And she has already threatened to stab me once," Barry chuckled drily and Cisco smiled, nodding, unable to refuse him, "But I'll try my best," he patted his hand, "Just pray that I survive the effort. And you - get some sleep."

With that, he walked away, following in Caitlin's footsteps. Barry's eyes followed him until he disappeared down the curve of the cortex, then sighing heavily, he closed his eyes, and immediately fell asleep.

x-x-x

Cisco found Killer Frost in one place he thought she would never go; in front of particle accelerator. His expressions softened as he recalled their conversation, oh a millenia ago, when Ronnie first appeared after his supposed demise. He recalled the Caitlin of that time; soft, vulnerable, warm, susceptible to grief and loss - human in every aspect. The straight-backed woman, sitting still as an ice sculpture, hands fisted with instinctive rage and staring hard at the particle accelerator's circular entrance hardly resembled the Caitlin Snow who sat here before her. He could feel the cool steam coming off her body even as he stayed strictly on the opposite end of the tunnel, leaning against the wall.

"What do you want?" she asked suddenly, a low growl in the back of her throat, catching him by surprise.

Blushing with embarrassment, knowing all the while that the heat due to this blush was only bringing him deeper into the danger, he shook his head quickly, "Nothing. I don't want anything."

She turned her head around to look at him and in his nostalgic state, he was slightly taken aback to see the electric blue, wide stretched, wild irises instead of warm brown ones. He soon regained his mental footing and looked back to register the hint of irritation on her face.

"Barry sent me to make sure you stay," he blurted out, unable to come up with any other excuse.

"And what made you think you will be able to stop me if I wanted to go?" her tone was both taunting and challenging.

Cisco shrugged, "Yeah, that's what I told him, too," he pushed his hair behind his ear, "That you will kill me if I tried to come in your way."

Caitlin chuckled; a dried, humorless sound making Cisco realize yet again how much this person was not Caitlin, and looked down at her frozen hands, the dried blood still there.

"I will leave," she said quietly, a low murmur Cisco was not too sure was for his ears, "Eventually."

"Hey, I'm totally on your side in that," Cisco added, giving a hesitant smile, "I always wanted you to leave."

She looked up at him, her eyebrow quirked skeptically, "Yeah, I'm aware of the fact," almost absentmindedly, she drew a long icicle out of her palm, twirling it between her fingers, "I also know why you don't want me on the team," she smiled wryly.

Cisco gulped, his eyes glued on the sharp icicle, "Did Barry tell you?" he asked in a panicked voice, "I'm sure you -"

"Barry told me nothing," she pulled out another dagger, now juggling the two icicles without even looking, "But that doesn't mean I can't feel your mistrust in my ability to control myself."

Cisco has turned pale by then, unable to look anywhere but at the long daggers, his mouth gone dry. He wasn't sure if she was teasing him intentionally or did playing with daggers was just a pass-time for Killer Frost. But he was sure that he didn't want to know either way.

"Look, can you just -" he pointed a trembling hand towards the icicles. Caitlin followed the direction of his gaze, stared at the icicles for a moment before looking at him with a cruel amusement.

"What, these?" she asked vaguely, "You think I'm gonna stab you with these or something?" she laughed, "But why would I waste a perfectly warm body when I can kill you just by touching you. At least, that way, one of us gains something."

"Okay, look," Cisco stopped her in a trembling voice, "If you want me to be scared of you, you win. I'm terrified of you. Just . . . just stop doing that."

Caitlin rolled her icy blue eyes even as the daggers slipped back into her skin (making Cisco gag), "I don't want you to be anything, Cisco," she said flatly, "I can't care less for what you feel for me. I'm here for one person only and if I left, that would be for him, too."

A long stretch of silence followed the confession where Caitlin stared at the adjacent wall and Cisco stared at the floor. None of them knew what to say to another.

"There's something I have always wanted to ask," Cisco finally broke the silence and Caitlin looked up at him blankly, "How much - how much of Caitlin is there in you?"

"What does that suppose to mean?" she asked, frowning in confusion.

Cisco shrugged as he stepped forward and sat down just inside the corridor, still a good distance away from her, "I mean, like few minutes ago, you were treating Barry. You were in your," he put inverted commas in the air, "'Doctor Mode'. That's totally Caitlin's thing. But other times - like ninety nine percent of the time - you are just this cold, icy person, trying not to kill just about everybody."

She must have found that description of herself very amusing because next moment she laughed out loudly, her strangely resonating voice echoing in the narrow passage. Cisco wasn't sure if she was laughing sarcastically or if she really found it funny so he refrained himself from smiling back.

"I really don't know how to answer that question," she said, shaking her head slightly as the laughter subsided, "But you're a mechanical engineer, right?"

Cisco nodded silently, unable to find relevance of his question to that of hers.

"Have you ever come across a machine that is burnt beyond recognition? Insides all fried? Wires all melted?"

The question struck home and Cisco gulped, realizing the course of conversation, "A couple of times, yeah," he said in a hoarse whisper. Immediately his mind started playing all the conversations with Ronnie and Barry about how she was left to die in a thermodynamic engine by H.I.V.E Agents, how, in her panic, she had ripped off the cooling system that froze her body to the core, merging her cells with ice, changing her entire DNA. Countless times since then, he had tried to imagine the degree of fear Caitlin, his friend Caitlin who would never inflict damage to anyone intentionally, whose world was books and computers and S.T.A.R Labs and who was fairly inapt at self defense, must have felt at the realization that she was alone in a place full of people all hell bent on killing her.

"And have you ever been able to salvage something of the real machine from that burnt metallic corpse?"

Cisco felt a lump forming in his throat, realizing who actually was the burnt metallic corpse, "I - yeah, there's always something of the machinery that's not completely destroyed." He recalled the fisted hands as she lied motionless in S.T.A.R Labs, unconscious to the world but still able to feel the excruciating pain that was changing her body. He recalled reading the monitors registering a higher and higher heart beat rate as her pain intensified over time.

She spread out her pale palms, "There you go, then. That's the answer to your question."

Cisco swallowed the lump painfully before asking, "Yeah, but how much of the real machine is left in this case?"

"That's something I want to know just as much as you."

"Well, what do you think it is?" he insisted.

She stood up, flipping her hair back carelessly, "What I think doesn't matter. The only think that matters is how much the other person thinks there is to salvage. Some give up sooner," she glanced at him, "Some are more stubborn."

Cisco thought of Barry; optimistic, determined Barry, not ready to give up on her for the world. In a matter of seconds he realized how much they have come forward from the starting point, even if he had been stubborn not to acknowledge the progress. For starters, Killer Frost has grown a consience. She has started hesitating in killing evil meta humans, and has completely stopped killing innocents - intentionally, at least. And then, today, there were some glimpses of actual Caitlin Snow - undoubtedly of a more ferocious one - but they hinted at enough for him to know that something of real Caitlin stayed in Killer Frost. Begrudgingly, though, but he has to admit that Caitlin Snow's fierce protective side has twisted to become Killer Frost's positive one, however vague, and it was better than nothing.

"You know," he shifted his weight slightly to one side as he began, "Now that you have remembered being a doctor, we are actually in need of one around here."

Caitlin raised her eyebrows skeptically, "Oh really?" she asked sarcastically and flicked her finger. An icy dagger shot out of her palm, passing within an inch of Cisco's ear, and dug deep into the wall behind. Cisco clenched his eyes close instinctively, wincing loudly.

"How about now?" she asked casually.

"Back, back, I take it back. Forget all about it. Just leave whenever you want to. I'll even help you pack," Cisco improvised hastily.

Caitlin laughed; a cold, inhuman laugh. Despite himself, Cisco gave a watery smile too. It will take some getting used to, and he was not too sure about the possibility either, but maybe some day he'll actually begin to like Killer Frost's crazy/evil sense of humor.

"Don't worry," she waved a careless hand, "I might be leaving sooner than you think."

He opened his mouth to say something, unsure of the words, but she continued, "I'm just waiting for Barry to wake up."

Cisco sighed heavily, strangely not happy with the prospect. This small conversation, with all her cold harshness and unexpectedly dangerous sense of humor, had left an impact on him, making him realize the extent of pain she had endured to get so twisted. It was an unwelcome feeling, considering the cold dagger still melting behind him, and it left Cisco speechless.

x-x-x

When Barry finally sat up from his several hour long sleep, it was around 5 a.m in the morning. The lab was completely silent, not a sliver of sound could be heard. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and rolling his shoulder to realize that all his injuries were healed. He carefully pulled the IV out and then started to remove the bandage from his head.

"That was a deep wound," the sudden sound made him jump violently, "You might want to keep it on for few more hours."

Barry turned around to see Caitlin sitting in one of the chairs in front of the computer table, her perpetually blank expression still in place. He smiled, feeling suddenly better. She had stayed.

"Hey," he greeted, "How about you check if it's safe enough to remove the bandage?" he said with a lopsided smile.

She raised her eyebrows slightly, a hint of a smile appearing before it disappeared. He wanted her to be his doctor again and she was not sure if doing so will hurt him later.

"I think you are qualified enough to do that," she said brusquely.

Barry shrugged, undaunted by her dismissal, "Well, if my doctor thinks so," he started taking off the bandage, looking around the lab, "Where is Cisco? It's really quiet."

Her eyes were fixed on his hands removing the bandage clumsily, itching to help but knowing that she should not start something that will not last. Not now.

"Home. It was getting late."

Barry breathed deeply; a sleepy sigh originating from lingering drowsiness, his hands having almost removed the bandage, "How long did I sleep?"

Her eyes dropped from his forehead to his eyes, then back up again, "Six hours more or less."

He pulled the bandage with a last tug, his fingers probing the wound, "How does it look?" he asked and as if in reply to his own question, winced loudly as his fingers touched a soft spot.

"I told you the wound is deep," she said irritatingly, getting up and going over to him quickly. She pried his fingers away from the wound and examined closely. The wound was healing, there was no bleeding, but it needed some time. Her cold fingers, now clean with no blood and ever so careful with her newly gained strength, softly pressed the wound and immediately stopped when he winced.

"Sorry," she started to pull away but Barry stopped her hand midway and pulled it forward, placing the fingers back on his wound.

"Do you mind?" he asked with a pleading smile; a sideways sheepish tilt of his lips, "The cold is soothing."

Looking at him; those green eyes and the pools of affection in them, it always felt like a mental jolt to realize that it was there for her. Such warmth for such cold. This pure smile, imploring eyes - the face of a person who didn't fear her or more importantly, was not repulsed by her. By the sight of her. By this body devoid of all human warmth, eyes empty of any emotion signature of the capability to feel, heart a frozen twisted mass unable to return his affections. By this person who only few hours ago had gone wild in her fury and was about to freeze someone to death. Even being hit by lightening and becoming a scientific mystery could not gain him the ability to love the frozen corpse she had become, like a person buried alive. She remembered Cisco's question; how much of Caitlin is in there? And for once she longed so dearly to know the answer to that, to make herself believe that she deserved his affections based upon the undoubted presence of the vestiges of her old self - of Caitlin, no matter how little. If only she could know that there was something - a shadow, a hint - of Caitlin in Killer Frost, know for sure, then at least she would have a reason to stay, to give him something of his. But without any such knowledge and with her latest slip up and new found revelation, she could not stay.

"Alright," she mumbled in her resonating voice, allowing him to keep her fingers on his wound. Finally some use of her abilities.

"What is bothering you?" Barry asked after a long moment of silence, his face tilted upwards at her, a soft smile on his lips.

"Why would I be bothered by anything?" she shot back stiffly, flustered at being jarred out of her thoughts.

Barry chuckled, "You tell me," he said as he reached up and gently tapped her bottom lip in the grip of her teeth, "You are biting your lower lip again."

She stared at him, eyes wide in shock. Was she really? Was she actually reflecting a nervous habit of the dead girl inside her? Did she show other such traits of that girl, too, without any intention or conscious thought? The thought sent a shiver of possibility down her spine.

"I was thinking about what happened, you know, with Frank Miller today - tonight," she lied halfheartedly.

He frowned, "What happened was that you were able to stop yourself and you saved my life."

"I almost killed him," she said flatly, tired of all the fake optimism, "And left you to die."

"But you didn't," Barry shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant "And that's what matters."

"I'm not able to control myself -"

"You're controlling your powers just fine," Barry interjected calmly, "Accidents like today can happen but otherwise you're doing great." It was a conversation similar to her every post-slip up frustration.

"Accidents like today can't happen. Or someone will get killed."

"No one will get killed," Barry shook his head slowly, "You'll know when to stop just like you stopped today."

"No!" her anger flared up again, her skin getting colder, her eyes getting lighter. She snatched her hand away from his wound, making him wince, "Cisco was right about not trusting me. We can not have a recap of what happened with that other meta I actually killed."

"It happened so long ago," Barry said, standing up, "When you were still trying to control your powers."

"But I almost killed that other person, too, when -"

"That, too, was not what we prepared for. Another accident. And you were not as good back then to -"

"And today I tortured Miller," she cut in impatiently, stepping back few feet, her hands fisting in desperation, "Because I was not able to control my anger. It all kept slipping, Barry, it'll never work."

"But you did control it, Cait," Barry started to close the distance between them, hands outstretched, "You were able to stop and -"

"No! You don't understand!" her sudden loud shout of anger stopped Barry in his tracks. His optimism was rubbing her in all the wrong ways, making her more and more desperate to make him see her faults, see her for what she was. Barry frowned, feeling something darkly different about this time.

As a last sorry resort, an ice dagger shot out of Killer Frost's finger and hovered there - an inch away from Barry's face, quivering and floating eerily like a moment frozen in time.

Barry stared at the tip, something twisting his stomach in knots, knowing deep down that this time it was different - this time she was more determined - or was desperate the word? He dragged his eyes away from the immediate threat to look at her, his eyes a silent source of plea.

"You don't have to do this," he said quietly after a long still moment.

"If that will make you see me for what I am, then yes, I have to," she growled back, her body all tensed muscles and pent up energy, "Because that's something you are refusing to see."

"And what's that?" Barry asked evenly, his eyes fixed on her despite the dagger quivering few inches away from him.

"That I'm no longer a who," she spat angrily, "I'm a what," another dagger slowly slipped out of her palm, "That was the first thing Miller said when he saw me. He asked me what I am. Not who I am, but what," she closed her eyes briefly, then opened to reveal pale blue irises, no longer dilated with anger, "Someone like me -" she looked down at her cold body and looked up sharply at the wall behind Barry, making the spare dagger whisk past his head and smash the glass panel into pieces, "- who is barely alive, can't be a human."

Barry bit his lower lip, thinking he finally realized the source of her sudden anger, "So you decided to believe someone trying to kill us both on sight than me?" he asked, a harsh note entering his tone, "You decided to let a stranger be the judge of your identity but you refused to believe someone who have known you for so many years?" he closed his fingers around the dagger, vibrating his hand and shattering the ice to the floor. Killer Frost stood there, still as an ice sculpture, her quiet eyes following the falling icy crystals. She didn't try to stop him as he stepped closer.

"For more than an year now, I've been telling you that nothing has changed for you, that you can still be the same person, and all I got was you trying to leave everytime you fail to stop yourself," Barry reached her, his eyes blazing with a mixture of anguish and disbelief, "And some stranger - who don't even know your name - tells you something and you are ready to believe it?"

"Maybe because he wasn't biased," she said quietly, her eyes boring into his, "Maybe because he told me what he saw and not what he wanted to see."

Barry exhaled loudly, his both hands going up and rubbing the side of his head as he turned around and took a few steps away from her in an agitated state of mind. This small gesture, the rubbing of his head with his palms, the signature move of his whenever he was anxious or tensed, didn't go unnoticed by her. Some small part of hers wondered at her ability to still be able to recall those hints of his moods even after all those months of cold hatred and pain.

"And you have no idea how right Miller is," she continued in the same scathing tone, "Every second that I exist, all I want is to take more and more of the heat of each and every person. Every minute that I spend without absorbing heat - without killing someone - is using too much of my strength. I told you before, I'm telling you again," she clenched her fists desperately, "I need to get warm."

Barry shook his head slightly, unable to fathom, "But you - you are doing it so well. The last time you actually took a life was an year ago! I thought you were getting better," he spread out his palms helplessly, "And we are always making sure that you get enough heat to control your -"

"You don't get it," she growled suddenly through gritted teeth, "I need to stay warm. All the time."

"Or so you think," Barry said quickly, trying to grab a direction for the conversation, "You have shown control over your powers, Cait, you have shown how to stop yourself. You have done it. Again and again. For so many months. Why do you think you need to stay warm so much now? I don't understand."

He reached forward to take her hand. She hissed, stepping back, her eyes widening with cold fury. Gesturing with her fingers, her expression turned into a dead blankness as several icy shards appeared out of nowhere all around Barry. Barry frowned in confusion. He could not understand - nothing seemed to be working today.

"You think," she hissed, "You think that because you have known me for so long, that because Caitlin thought of you as an important part of her life, I won't kill you?" Barry stared, his mouth slightly open. In all the months together, he had never seen her behave so erratically - so desperate to leave that no amount of reasoning seemed to change her mind. He could not get hold of whatever had made her think that leaving was the only option, making her throw one obscure reason after another as an excuse to prove how evil she truly was so she could just get away from this place.

"But you are forgetting something, Barry Allen," her voice has gone down to a whisper, "Ronnie Raymond was also a big part of Caitlin's life - he was her husband. She had loved him, even more so after he came back from his supposed death," the icy daggers started shivering in the air as her eyes got lighter again, "And I killed him," she stepped forward, her hands trembling, "What made you think I won't kill you someday?"

Despite his bewilderment, a small smile - so out of place and moment - broke through the grim set of Barry's lips. It surprised her out of her determined anger.

"I know all about Caitlin's love for Ronnie," his voice was soft, gentle, for once playing along with her desire to separate herself from her past, "I know how much she loved him, how much she grieved his death and how much it made her happy when he came back from death. And I know that you killed him becuase of the heat he possessed," his smile grew slightly, finally finding a solid footing with her, "And I don't think that you won't kill me - or that you can't kill me," in a flash of speed and a gust of air, he collected all the icy daggers surrounding him and cluttered them in a messy heap around her feet, stopping only few inches away from her startled eyes and windblown hair, "I just want to know why haven't you yet?"

He watched carefully as all pretense slipped out of her face, leaving her eyes surprised, her mouth open, unable to provide him with an answer or even gather her previous desperate anger.

"You had so many opportunities to kill me, Cait, even when we were not a team," his eyes flickered from one blue iris to another, "The first time I met you after your transformation - you tried so hard to make me think that you want to kill me. But all you were trying to do was drive me away," he knew he was treading on thin ice (and the metaphor echoes with all its irony in his mind), that any moment a wrong word, a slip of movement will anger her enough to forget about the consequences, "Just like you are doing right now," he concluded in a whisper, "So tell me what happened, Cait, because I have no damn idea why you want to leave now so badly."

The slight rise and fall of her pristine skin at the throat didn't go unnotice by him. She wanted to tell him but was hesitating. Barry decided to give her all the time she needed.

"How much -" she began and something twisted in Barry's stomach at the hoarseness of her voice as she stopped and cleared her throat, "How much of . . . Caitlin -" she said the name hesitantly, almost throwing it out defensively, "- you think is remaining in me?"

Barry frowned, "You know what I think about that. You don't need to ask, because I've -"

"Just . . . tell me, please," she cut in harshly before regaining her low tone, her command ending as a plea.

Barry placed his hands on her elbows, "You are Caitlin and you will always be Caitlin. You have her memories, her body, her past and future and present. Just because you went through a transformation doesn't mean you are someone else. You are just as much of Caitlin after everything that happened to you as I'm Barry after the lightening hit me."

His soft voice, gentle tone, wide, desperate eyes and the reassuring pressure on her arms - it all made it so much more difficult for her to regain her instinctive cold harshness. She tried, with repititive failure, to shrink back to the hard knot of her heart, to stop herself from responding to his emotional and physical warmth, but each time her thirst for a single soul to see her for her won, leaving her open and vulnerable and throbbing with the pain of past memories, the agony the present was putting her through and the fear for unpredictable future.

"Once before," she murmured quietly, "When I thought I lost Ronnie for good, I thought I would never be able to let another person near me," she slowly twisted her arms out of his soft grip, slipping her hands down his arms and holding his wrists in her hands, "But then he came back and I felt alive again," she slipped her fingers a little lower to hold his hands, palms up, her thumb stroking the insides softly, cool against his skin, "But this time it's me who killed him," she let out a dried half sob, startling Barry, "And I did a thorough job of it. He is not coming back this time," she looked up at him, "And ever since I've killed him, ever since I became . . . this," she glanced down at herself, "I have been thinking the same. That it's impossible for me to ever let someone in again," she took a deep breath, the cold of the air warm against her icy body, "And yesterday I was proved wrong."

"You let someone in?" Barry asked softly, his tone varying shades of pain and hope.

She smiled slightly as she looked up again, not a smirk but a genuine smile, and Barry realized that her smile was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"I didn't," she shrugged, "He broke in."

"How did he manage to do that?" Barry asked, tilting his head sideways, feigning innocence as his fingers crossed against hers. His heart seemed to be beating at twice his normal rate, a warm feeling spreading all through his body, down to his fingertips.

"He didn't really try, it was an accident," she drawled teasingly before her expression turned hard again, "But most of the reason I lost control yesterday was because I saw you falling. And it hurts to admit," she closed her eyes, dark lashes prominent against pale skin, "But the thought of losing you was too overwhelming to keep my humanity in check."

She didn't open her eyes - at least not until she felt the unexpectedly soft pressure of his lips on her eyelids, letting a shiver run through her body. She opened her eyes slowly, more surprised than curious.

"You said it in too many words and still didn't say it," Barry whispered quietly, a sad smile dancing around his lips, "But I love you, too."

She inhaled slowly, her eyes scrutinizing the honesty of his words before her face hinted at a smile, a surprisingly soft smile for a face so hard and cold. The very next instant her smile faltered, turning back into a grim set of lips.

"But that's why I must leave," she said abruptly, a hard edge creeping back into her voice as she gushed, fast and desperate, "I can not do more damage. I will only make matters worse. Because I feel this way about you and because of what I am, Barry, I can not stay here if you want to prevent loss of lives. I'll only lose control everytime you got hurt. We can't afford that."

Barry stumbled verbally at such a quick turn on her thoughts, "No - but - no, Cait, you can't," he protested, "Not now. Not after what you just said."

"Barry, it's more appropriate that -"

"What's more appropriate," he cut in, taking her face in his hands, passing the warmth of his body to her, "Is that you stay here with us. With me," he sighed tiredly, "I spent months trying to find you, Cait, then few more to convince you for coming with me. And now that I know that you feel the same way about me as I've felt about you for so long, I don't think I can live without you, Caitlin. You must stay. And whatever happens, we will face it together."

Her blue irises jumped over his face, taking in the determination of his words, "I'll hurt you, Barry," she whispered, "I'm afraid I'll hurt you. Or someone else. But I can't do that -"

Barry sighed softly, shaking his head slightly, before leaning down and touching her lips with his own.

Warmth flooded through her face as her control over her powers wavered for a second with the surprise of the moment, briefly absorbing his flushed warmth. She soon pulled it under as her hands settled hesitantly over his chest, kissing him back, determined not to hurt him. It felt surreal, a lost dream coming out of the foggy world of impossibilities. She found her anchor in it. In Barry. In that moment of closeness for the first time in all her life with him.

When they separated, her eyes were strangely still for once, lacking the usual burst of erratic energy. Instead, she stared at Barry, wide-eyed with disbelief.

He took in her awe and touched her forehead with his, smiling breathlessly, "And after this, we will go catch a metahuman."

She was still unsure, "Will you stop me if I seem like loosing control?"

Barry chuckled, stroking a blond strand away from her face, "You won't."

x-x-x

A/N: Right, yeah, it took too long. I know. Sorry about that. I'm one lazy person, as you very well know. And I wanted to take this story to so many places all at once but have to keep it strong too. So I don't know how I did. I guess I'll just wait for you to tell me what you think of it.