Er, Hello, friends. I really am sorry this took so long. As a lot of you know, my mother was diagnosed with alzheimer's three years ago, and her decline has taken up a lot of my emotional energy, as has my current job as a teacher. I've been chipping away at this, but lost momentum, and it was really hard to get back. But it is back, and I'm going to try not to let more than a few months go between chapters.

Another note: I have seen like 7 episodes total of Arrow, so I am going ENTIRELY off implications I got from 2015 tumblr posts, Flash references to Arrow, and gumption. If the things don't match up with canon…oh well, it's not like this fic is totally canon compliant either. Basically Felicity and Oliver left (to go somewhere?) Ray Palmer's still presumed dead in whatever it was that happened at his office, and Laurel's still vigilante-ing. Just go with it.

warnings for more of the previous: threats, starvation, drugging, mentions of suicide.

Chapter 14

Caitlin hadn't meant to fall asleep. She'd propped herself up against the back wall of the cell, hoarding the water jug and first aid kit close, waiting for them to bring Cisco back. They didn't. At first, she had just hugged her knees, watching the door. Sometime after the first hour, maybe, her eyes had fixed on the stain by the door, the drying red of Eiling's blood. Fear had frozen her solid. She knew Eiling still wanted them alive, for now-but what if he made good on his threat? Let Barry starve, kill Cisco in reprisal for the attack. He still had Ronnie and Stein somewhere in this maze. He'd been hunting them, all this time, and now… now she had nothing to do but wait, and worry. Eventually, both hands locked around the first aid kit, she'd dozed off, though to call it sleep was more generous than could be afforded to anything in this hell.

When she woke, Cisco was still gone, but someone had brought another water bottle and granola bar. Caitlin released her grip on the first aid box, wincing as feeling came back into her fingers. Her stomach growled, but she forced herself to move slowly, and tuck the bar in a pocket instead of ripping the paper off and eating it in one bite. When they brought Cisco back, he'd need food, too. She did drink a little of the water. It had to be a good sign. They still needed her alive, which meant that at least some of her friends were. Ronnie, at least. She was sure of little, but hoped. She wasn't sure how long she'd been out- minutes, hours? Her car would have been discovered by now. The note. Surely Joe and Eddie would have seen it, by now, and known something more was happening, even without a hidden morse code message.

She rubbed her arms idly, wishing she had a sweater. They were either far underground, or the building was well air conditioned, for it to be chilly despite the time of year. Or maybe it was just night time. Did it even matter?

Chewing her lip, Caitlin waited for some change. Another escape attempt was out of the question, so far off the table it was still in the pantry, not with Cisco, Barry, and Firestorm elsewhere in the facility. If only they were all together, if only she could just see them, know they were alive…

Her skin felt tight and chilled, and she took another small sip of water, to clear her mouth and her mind. She needed to be alert, even if escaping wasn't an option at the moment. There'd be another chance, there had to be. The waiting wore on her nerves, and she looked around for anything new. Plaster, cement. No openings but that single locked door and a grate in the floor, too small to be of any use. No lightswitch, either. She pulled the first aid kit back into her lab, fiddling with the latches and recounting the supplies inside. She hoped when they brought Cisco back, he wouldn't need more than what was inside. If they bring Cisco back, a traitor whispered inside her own brain. She shook her head, trying to break the unwelcome thought to pieces and scatter it. When. Not if.

Something beyond the door scuffled, and a heavy clunk noise made her scramble upright as the door unlocked and opened.

Barry wasn't sure how long had actually passed since Hadley had left him, alone in the lab room, but a nervous-looking man had come by once in the time after to bring a bottle of water, and attached the abandoned IV bag. Barry had almost thanked him for the water, he'd been so thirsty, but had asked about his friends instead. As before, he got no answer. When the interny-dude left, he was alone with his thoughts and the skill air around him again. He hated it. Everything seemed to slow around him, the dripping IV moving like syrup in the dead of winter. Of all the times for his superspeed to passively kick in...sure, he appreciated time slowing when he could do something. But with the door closed off and locked, and the wire mesh restraints keeping him from breaking free, that was not the case now. At least when it was just his eyes and his mind racing, it didn't take too much energy. He wasn't sure if they'd bring him another IV bag any time soon.

His stomach cramped. What I wouldn't give for one of Cisco's calorie bars, he thought, closing his eyes. How long had it been since he'd arrived here? Since they'd gone missing? Time stretched and twisted, but he was pretty sure it hadn't been weeks yet. Days? At least days since Cisco and Caitlin had been taken-and Firestorm, too, Hadley had said. Joe didn't know about that. Joe needed to know not to waste time trying to get Firestorm's help finding them.

But it wasn't like he was going to get a phone call, and even if he did…

"Anyone you get involved in this little arrangement stays involved, and I'm sure you don't want that. Cops lead such dangerous lives." Eiling had said. He had been right. Barry didn't want to think of Joe, or Eddie, or Iris in this place, too, with the ugly-speckled linoleum floors, right there for Eiling to threaten to hurt or kill. They weren't safe as it was. Still, in the drawn out seconds he wondered- what if he'd risked it? Left a note on the underside of the coffee table, raced by the police station and left a clue for Eddie and Joe, something. Maybe Eiling hadn't been watching-but what if he had? He'd traded hope of rescue for hope of safety for the few people he cared about who were still free. What if that had been the wrong choice? So many of his choices were wrong, so many things he'd done had almost-

The door opening snapped time back into focus. Barry blinked, a little too quickly at first. He'd expected to see Hadley or the nervous assistant. Instead, he saw Eiling, and a handful of uniformed soldiers.

"Wake up, Flash." Eiling's voice was mocking. "Have enough of a nap?"

Barry opened his mouth to growl out some retort, snarky and biting, but stopped. His throat was still so dry. He revised his mental timeline, it had definitely been hours.

"On your feet," Eiling instructed, and Barry stared at him, tugging only slightly at his wrists. Eiling's smile grew wider. "Good. I thought that'd keep you in place." One of the soldiers closed the distance, using a heavy knife from his belt to slice through the razor wire, as though it were flimsy cloth. Barry flinched away from the blade as much as he could.

"Remember, try to run-without instruction-and your little friends face the consequences." Eiling said, leading the way out. Soldiers closed in around Barry, close enough to touch-if he dared. But faced again with the maze of hallways, the chill air on his skin, the realization that his friends could be anywhere here… he didn't dare.

His bare feet protested slightly on the walk back through the halls. Barry was pretty sure it was the same path he'd taken last time, but couldn't be totally certain. He shook his head to clear it. If he was going to find a way out of this place, save his friends and himself, he needed to start mapping out this facility.

The room looks like the one he'd been in before: observation window in one wall, heavy lock on the door, a treadmill in the center. This one looked different, though. It seemed bulkier, sturdier, and nowhere near as polished as the last one. That one had hardly been elegant, but this one looked like it had been built with scraps and prayers. He hesitated, eyeing the machine with suspicion. Though he had healed from the injuries caused when the last treadmill had given out-mostly- he didn't want to think what Eiling would do when this one broke, still without the data he so clearly wanted.

"I do not appreciate the delay, Allen," Eiling's voice echoed from the speaker set above the observation window. "And neither will your friends."

That was all the reminder Barry needed. He gripped the sides of the treadmill tightly, moving into a runner's stance. The earlier treadmill had been one smooth belt, but this one seemed to be made of hard rubber slats, like the treads of a tractor, or an escalator where they reached the ends of the running-length, joining smoothly on the surface before splitting apart again as they turned. His toes curled involuntarily at the thought of getting pinched between those slats, and he had only enough time to inch backwards a bit before the belt began to move.

He ran. At first, it was easy to keep up with the machine. While he still felt tired and drained, he had more energy than the first attempt. He knew he should try to save some of it for an escape, but… he swallowed down the thought, his throat dry, and pressed on. The speed jumped higher and higher, until he could see lightning in the corners of his vision, and the treadmill lurched horribly before steadying.

He ran until sweat dripped into his eyes, blinding him, until his lungs ached and he could feel his heart beating in his feet. He ran as his muscles cramped and his legs screamed with every step, but he did not dare stop.

It hadn't taken long for the unbearable, inexplicable cold to wear off, once Martin had been forced back into his cell. He had sat in the corner, fingers ghosting over the slightly sticky spot where the skittish intern had affixed a monitor lead to his temple. He had remembered the cold room he'd been questioned in, before, but this cold had felt different, more like the cold of the winter nights when he had wandered Central City in Ronald's body, merely a pilot. Given that, and the feelings of panic and fear that had come with the slight edge to them that suggested they were Ronald's as much as they were his own, he had guessed the reason: his body was not the one exposed to the cold. He felt it all the same, and tried to focus on keeping his emotions in check, though he wasn't sure he'd had much success.

Back in the cell, he had moved to the corner nearer to his counterpart, trying to offer what comfort he could. Ronald's skin had looked almost ice-white when he'd first been brought back in, a minute or so after Martin's own door had locked. That had faded quickly, as the two men huddled, warming.

They were offered no food as the minutes stretched, but once someone opened the cell doors, one at a time, to place paper cups of water. Certain that it was drugged, Martin had signaled that Ronald wait until he tested his own, and felt a slight twinge of exasperation in return. The luke-warm water had tasted of nothing, and no new tiredness settled over him, though that did nothing to aid the anxiety.

Ronald paced the enclosure, hands tracing the walls. Martin stayed in his corner. He wanted to believe an escape route would reveal itself if only he poked hard enough, but something about this set of rooms led him to believe it had been made just for the two of them, and Eiling was too cautious to leave a way out accessible.

He jolted as a loud click signaled the unlocking of his heavy door, and noticed that Ronald had jolted, too, even before that door swung open. He hoped the soldiers had not noticed as well.

"What do you want, now?" he demanded, not truly expecting an answer, and not getting one, either. "I am capable of walking without you dragging me," he added on, wrenching his shoulder back when one of the men moved to grab him. In the next cell, he could see Ronald's fists clenched. "There's not much point in my running, now is there?"

Of course, there was. If he could just get to Ronald, they could merge-move quickly enough, they could take out the soldiers… but then they'd have to pray they were lucky enough to find the others before anyone realized, and then escape on top of that. Calculating the risk was a simple enough equation, and not just for him. As one group of armed men pushed him down the hallway, allowing him to walk under his own power, the other escorted Ronald in the opposite direction.

It was yet another new room, this one similar to the first: a lab room, smelling of harsh disinfectant, with a long counter and double sink set above cabinets and There was, at least, no awful chair in this one, just a simple straight-backed chair with wide metal arms. A woman sat in an identical chair, watching him.

"Do take a seat, Firestorm." She nodded to the chair, watching him. He did not move to sit, and she rolled her eyes slightly. "I don't know what you think to gain with this childishness. Now, sit. We have quite a bit to… discuss."

"I already told your master, FIRESTORM isn't yours to weaponize. Asking politely isn't going to change my mind."

"Well, that is a shame," the woman shifted in her seat. Martin could read the name on her stark white coat, now. Alcina. He squirreled away the information, and met her hard glare. "But I'm sure we can find a way to convince you to be more forthcoming. As the General told you, you will be useful to us with or without your cooperation. This-" she waved a hand "is merely an easier route for us all. But if you insist on being stubborn, very well."

The guards at the door closed in, though they only held him in place, rather than forcing him into the offered chair. Alcina stood, moving to the counter, where a tablet lay. She typed something into it with one hand, then pulled a syringe from the drawer beneath it. "And he's not my master, Firestorm. He's yours."

Ronnie hadn't known what to expect when the armed goons dragged him through yet another door. He'd had plenty of time and paranoia, both in the last hour and in the last several months, to worry over what-ifs, but there were a lot of possibilities, and he didn't like any of them.
He liked them even less when he saw the door opening on the other side of the conspicuously empty room, and Eiling walking through it. A moment later, Caitlin followed, flanked by another pair of stoic-faced soldiers. He ripped one arm free lunging forward, and across the room, Caitlin stumbled as one of the men grabbed her shoulder to keep from doing the same.
"Don't touch her," Ronnie growled, fury pulsing in his temple.
Eiling ignored the futile threat. "I am a man of my word, Doctor Snow," he said lightly. "Make sure you tell Ramon that."

Ronnie could almost feel Caitlin's apprehension in the same place he felt Martin's, and struggled again to go to her, to offer even the smallest of protections his body could afford. He needed to, the same way he needed air, needed warmth. She met his desperate stare, looking past Eiling, and swallowed. Her fingers twitched, one hand touching the place where his grandmother's ring had been on the other, and faltering.
"What do you want?" she said. "I've told you- don't-don't hurt him."
The general nodded to the two men, and they stepped back, guarding the door rather than restraining Caitlin. Uncertainly, she moved forward, one step, a second, and froze. No one made any move to grab her again.
"You have five minutes," Eiling said."If you make me regret my generosity, there will be plenty for you to regret." He exited by the same door he'd entered, as Ronnie felt the guards holding him move away as well. Before they'd even taken their places by the door, Ronnie ran.
He caught Caitlin as she flew at him, holding her tightly. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her as close as she could be. In turn, she clung to him as well, trembling.
"Ronnie," she said into his chest, head over his heartbeat.
"Cait," even just saying her name made his throat tight. It wasn't fair she was here, she was scared, all because of Eiling's obsession. "Did they hurt you? Did-what did he mean, about Cisco?"
"I don't know, he-we tried to get out, they took him away, I-" She took a shuddering breath, and Ronnie could feel it in his bones as she tried to steady herself against him. He touched her tangled hair with one hand, smoothing it. "I'm-not hurt. Really," she said. "What about-."
"Cold. Hungry. That's it, mostly. " He knew the question before she could finish. His voice held the shrug he didn't make, unwilling to jostl the embrace. "I'm ok, as long as you aren't hurt." It was true. He could handle the cold room again, whatever blow a guard might have aimed at him, panic too big for one body, anything, as long as she was unharmed. He'd known that for months, even when he was not himself.

She looked up at him, the angle a little awkward, but more bearable than letting go. "Then I'll be fine," she said, softly. "We'll get out of this."
She could feel the hum of agreement more than she could actually hear it. "Cait, promise me something." His voice was low, lips pressed against the shell of her ear, for her alone to hear, and not their observers. "If you and Cisco get the chance-"
Again, she knew before he could finish the statement what he intended to say, and shook her head, still unable to pull away. "Ronnie, no. I can't…" she swallowed the words, unsure of even what she might say, unwilling to let them pass her lips. I can't let you die. I can't let him kill you. "Please don't ask me that."
"Caitlin, whatever happens to me-" he stopped suddenly, the squeeze of his arms around her slackening slightly. She froze, twisting to look up again. Ronnie's eyes were shut tight, as if straining against something, and she could feel his heartbeat against her as it raced.

" Ronnie? Ronnie, what-"
"I. don't. know," the words were a long time in coming, drawn out and labored "Something's. Happening. Martin. Everything's heavy. Not hurt. Don't worry. "
She worried, anyways. She remembered, Ronnie staggering, nearly blacking out when Doctor Wells-Eobard Thawne- had drugged Professor Stein. This seemed different, and she didn't want to contemplate why. "Ronnie!"
After another moment his breathing evened out a little, though it was still ragged. "He's alive. I think it's one of their tests. I don't know." His arms twitched a little, like he was trying to hold her tighter and couldn't get them to do what he wanted at first, so she leaned into the hug herself, all at once fighting off tears. Exhaustion, fear, love, some combination of the three, she wasn't sure.
"I love you," he said into her hair. "I love you."
"I love you, too." The words came out muffled.
"Please, Cait," he started again, so desperate that her heart broke again, just like the night in the Pipeline antechamber. She had agreed, then, let him make his sacrifice. Not again.
"Not without you."
His body did not shake with the sigh, and he did not ask again.

Too soon, an unfamiliar voice announced " Time's up." Caitlin clung to Ronnie with all her strength
"Wait-"
They did not wait, moving to pry the two apart. Ronnie gave her one last squeeze, leaning in to kiss her. It was too little, too brief, and Caitlin strained to just keep touching him for a moment longer.
"I love you," she said, eyes burning. She would not blink, unwilling to lose sight of him even for a moment.
"I love you, too." Ronnie said as one of the soldiers pulled him away, his arms pinned to his sides. "Just hold on, Cait."

As she was herded back into the hall, where Eiling stood watching, Caitlin could still feel the ghostly sensation of gentle arms around her. She held onto that comforting sensation as she waited for the other shoe to drop.

"Detective West?" Officer Cooper stood in front of his desk, glancing over her shoulder. "There's a lawyer here to see you?"
"I don't have time. See if they can talk to Ms. Horton, or leave a message."
"He says he needs to talk to you."
"Tell him I'm busy." Joe gestured at the stacks of papers, still hunting for clues and connections. Two tips had come in about someone matching Cisco's description, but Eddie had gone to check, and despite all hope, neither had amounted to anything, or even been slightly useful. They were back to square one, again.

"I assure you, it's relevant," said a new voice, as a tall white man came up to stand near Officer Cooper. "I'm Greg Turk."
Joe gave him a blank look. "I'm supposed to recognize that name?"
"I represent-well, represented-the late Doctor Harrison Wells."
"I don't see the relevance. I'm sorry, Mr. Turk, but there's no case surrounding Wells' death, and I am extremely busy-"
"Yes," Mr. Turk said, tone going from warm to firm. "I'm aware. This is not regarding my client's death. It's regarding his will. May I sit?"
Joe heaved a sigh of impatience. Officer Cooper looked between the two, holding her breath, before jumping slightly. "Um. I should go? Do case things. I have a case things to do. Do you want me to see if you can use Cecile's office?"
"That won't be necessary," Mr Turk said, taking Eddie's desk chair and sitting in it. "You're running point on the disappearance of Francisco Ramon, are you not?"
"I am," Joe said, wary, but keeping his face carefully neutral.
"Then you must be aware of the suicide of his colleague Dr. Caitlin Snow, in Piedmont?"
Now Joe truly frowned. "Piedmont PD is still investigating that."
"Good. I have reason to believe that there's some foul play involved in Dr. Snow's death."
"You do?" Joe hid the surprise he felt. While he had known that was the case, as had her mother, they'd suspected for different reasons. Perhaps whatever had sparked Turk's concern would be a viable lead. "And you're here to share that? Why with me and not Piedmont?"
"Because it also connects to Ramon's disappearance," Turk said flatly. "And CCPD is much closer to my office. Now, as I said, I was Harrison Wells's Attorney. His will was quite clear about a great number of things, chiefly that all his assets be divided between three heirs. Caitlin Snow, Francisco Ramon, and Bartholomew Allen. Now one of them is dead, and another missing. I find it very difficult to believe that's mere happenstance."
"You think someone's targeting them because of inheritance?" Joe asked. "Someone from an older version of the will?" It wasn't the most likely of theories, but it was something narrower than " a grudge against Star Labs in General."

"Where is Bartholomew Allen?" Greg Turk asked abruptly. "If Ramon is dead, he's the sole heir."
Joe's brow furrowed at the implication. "Missing."
"I see. I heard he made a trip to Piedmont PD, the day they found Dr. Snow's car."
"Did you?" Joe asked, levely.
"You don't think I didn't call them, too, when I suspect that something they wrote off as suicide may have been murder?"
"What exactly are you implying, here?" Joe asked, voice raised enough that a few heads lifted. Joe could see Cooper watching from where she was very obviously not filing something in a cabinet.

Turk stood. "That if Barry Allen is missing, he may be in danger from the same people responsible for Snow and Ramon. Or maybe he isn't. They were Wells' employees long before he met Allen. There could be another connection. I'm only telling you what I know." He tilted his head, too refined to shrug. "I'll have my office, Wethersby and Stone, send you a list of anyone of note from prior wills. You'll have our full cooperation, and I'll let you get back to your case."
Joe watched him leave, quietly seething at the 'if' Turk had dropped. Still, what he had said had raised a new worry in his mind: a suspect they'd all overlooked.

Iris pulled her phone out from where she'd pinned it between shoulder and ear as she typed. She hadn't wanted to draw too much attention, but she and her dad and Eddie needed backup, and they needed it yesterday, so if posting a piece on her blog asking the Burning Man or the Flash to contact her was risky… so be it. She included the Flash to drive off suspicion that the Flash was missing, though if by some miracle Barry saw it, she wouldn't complain.

She punched in a now- familiar number again, wiping sweat from the phone, and went back to her searching, now combing twitter and social media feeds from the last week. Maybe someone had heard or seen something strange and brushed it off, if a meta was involved in the kidnappings.
Again she got annoying hold music and finally a pleasant but firm voice telling her that no, Oliver Queen was presently not taking any calls at this time.

"Fine. When he gets back, tell him Iris West needs to talk to him, urgently-on a personal matter, so if he's just ducking calls from reporters-"
"I'll pass the message along when he returns." Whoever it was on the other end said, offering no other information. Iris hung up and put her head on her desk for a few seconds, sitting up to realize she'd typed a string of spaces and "bbbbbbbbb" into the search bar. She deleted the letters and groaned. She'd been on the outside of things for so long, and that had cost her allies and help.

She thought back to everything she could surrounding Oliver, the Arrow, anything that might have been useful. Felicity was gone, too, Ray Palmer had clearly been connected (given how that disaster of a dinner had gone) but he was…

Her heart lurched. She hadn't known Ray well, but it still hurt to think about. No wonder Felicity had taken off on a trip, to get away from a city that still had building fragments in the street, to get away from confusing grief.

Who was left? There had been one other vigilante. The Canary. But she was dead, or-she had been missing? She'd come back, and going by a quick check of twitter, she was still… out there, taking over while the Arrow was lying low. Maybe she could help, whoever she was. Now wasn't a good time to go haring off, out of the city, but ….

She had to find something, and fast. Just sitting here felt even worse than sitting by Barry's hospital bed, after the coma, watching his chest rise and fall and suddenly stop as the machines screamed around him.

About to reach out on her blog to see if anyone knew anything about the Star City vigilantes, her phone rang.
She answered without checking the caller ID. "Iris West," she said, breathlessly, hoping for good news, or even just news.
"Iris," her father said on the other end. "Get to the house, if you aren't already there. There's something we missed."
"Two minutes," Iris said, already scrambling to shove her laptop into her bag. She didn't bother to hang up, just leaned over to Linda Park.
"Linda, I've got an emergency, tell Larkin I'll have something for him, uh, soon."
" Soon's not gonna cut it, West," Larkin said from his own desk. "Go, get me something good. Maybe another interview with our resident hero?"
Iris winced. "Uh, Something good, yeah." Her assignment was the furthest thing from her mind as she broke three traffic laws getting home.

The cell had been empty when Cisco was finally returned. The first aid kit, the water, and two paper plates with cheese and crackers and some kind of lunch meat sat on the ground near the corner he and caitlin and huddled in earlier.
"Where's Caitlin?" he demanded of the guard as he was pushed inside.
"Why would I tell you?" was the reply. Well, better than no reply, maybe.

Cisco ate two of his crackers, and drank just enough water to wash the sour taste of fear and exertion from his mouth. He'd wait for Caitlin to get back before he did anything else. At least there were two plates, that had to mean she was ok, that they were bringing her back here. He just hoped-prayed, really, that she wasn't tending to Barry, that he hadn't gotten hurt again. If the treadmill hadn't worked, if it had broken… no. He'd been careful. It would work. That damn thing would work because it had to. And they'd bring Caitlin back from the-bathroom, or whatever.
At least his head didn't hurt so much. He wasn't sure why, he'd had a couple head injuries before (the latest courtesy of Hartley Rathaway, ugh) and they'd taken forever to heal. It was weird, but he wasn't going to question it. He liked being alive and in minimal pain.
He finger combed his hair, wincing at the place where some was matted from old blood. What I wouldn't give for a shower, he thought, before squishing down the thought. There was quite a lot he wasn't prepared to give.
Finally, the door unlocked again. He was on his feet in a second, and his body only mildly protested the sudden movement. No one pushed Caitlin in, but he could tell she had been crying.
" Caitlin?" he asked, heart in throat, as a dozen terrible ideas danced in his head.
"Oh, thank God," she said when her eyes, adjusting to the dim light, caught on him. "I thought-"
"Where did they take you?" they both asked in unison. It would have been funny if it wasn't so grim. As it was, a desperate laugh nearly escaped Cisco's lungs. He held it back.

"They wanted me to build a treadmill. The one they had didn't… work. And I guess we're too far from Central City for them to just go steal the one from STAR Labs." Cisco answered first. It seemed only fair. "Wish they would. They barely even had the right parts. I had to incorporate aspects of a manual treadmill, just so that it would have a prayer of keeping up with Barry's speed, and those suck to run on."

"Did you see Barry?" Caitlin asked, reaching out with one hand to take Cisco's. The familiar contact was comforting.

"No. but he has to be here, somewhere, and… I mean, they wouldn't want a treadmill if he couldn't run. So…"

"So that's something," Caitlin nodded. She paused, eating her cheese, nibbling on it like Cisco had seen mice do in cartoons, or the hamster his cousin had kept as a pet. "I... I saw Ronnie. Eiling said- to tell you he's a man of his word. Did he, I don't know, did he threaten you or-?"

"God," Cisco had reached for his own cheese, but his stomach twisted. "No, I-maybe the opposite? He told me if the treadmill worked, he'd let you see Ronnie. I thought he was just taunting me."

"Oh," Caitlin said. She took a shuddering breath and Cisco leaned his shoulder against hers. "I guess that's better than-I thought, maybe they're never going to let me see him again. Or they wanted me to watch…" she trailed off. Cisco let her have the silence a moment, but then prompted.

"Watch? Caitlin, what did they do to Ronnie?"

"They did something to Martin. I don't know, it affected him somehow. Like talking was hard, moving was hard. I don't… I don't know." She ran her free hand through her hair. "He told me to run. If we get another chance."

Cisco thought about that, about the look on Eiling's face with his broken nose, the threats, and the tiny screw he'd dared to smuggle out of the room where he'd built the treadmill. One screw wouldn't be enough to get them all out.

"We'll figure something out," he said at last. "We always do."

"I'll take first watch, if you want to sleep," Caitlin offered. "I slept while you were gone."

"Drink some water," Cisco said, before shifting into a vaguely less uncomfortable position, and closing his eyes.

Iris beat Joe to the house. He arrived several minutes after she did, Eddie with him. While Iris had her box of files out and ready, having paced the length of the kitchen and dining room enough to please her fitbit, Joe was empty handed, as was Eddie. Eddie, already pale, looked ashen.
"What?" she demanded, before they could even sit. "What did we miss?"
"Thawne." Joe said, grimly. Iris looked at Eddie.
"But he's dead. He's-I saw the body. We all saw."
"When he had me, under STAR Labs," Eddie said, " he talked, sometimes. Mostly about himself. Not what he was planning, exactly just… bragging. Trying to make me feel worthless, helpless, unsure of myself, all that. But… he talked about the Flash. He had that newspaper, and-he knew Barry. Not our Barry. Barry in the future."
Iris blinked, worrying the necklace she wore, her mother's wedding band. " I mean... yeah. He went back in time to kill Barry's mom, he had to have already encountered Barry, or why would he?"
" He didn't go back to kill Barry's mom." Joe sighed. "He went to kill Barry. Barry got away, so he killed Nora."
"But he's dead." Iris said, again, frowning as realization started to dawn.
"The younger version of him is still out there. The one who encountered Barry, the one who hated him so much he had to go back and get himself stuck." Eddie said.
"It would explain why no one saw Caitlin leave the park, how anyone managed to get the drop on Barry…" Joe continued. " And it's something that connects all three of them. There's a reason Wells hired Caitlin and Cisco. Maybe he knew them, in the future too. They help Barry…"
"If he took them, they could be anywhere," Iris said, after a moment. "Barry can run on water, and he's so much faster…"
"And we got lucky, in that last fight." Eddie said, touching the holster he wore. "But we're going to find them, and we're going to get them back."
The Wests nodded.
"Where are we even going to start?" Iris chewed on her lip for a moment. "The blog. Maybe someone saw red lightning…"
"That's a good start," Joe said. "But careful. Your name's on that thing, and … we can't stop a speedster."

"We can't," Eddie said. "But some people can. Firestorm. And the Arrow."
"So we find them. And maybe Wells left some stuff we missed, in that creepy basement," Joe suggested.
"It's possible," Eddie agreed, feeling better than he had in days, with a real lead to go on, though his gut still churned at the thought of that basement room.
"We'll go together," Iris said, taking his hand.

"Hey, Jules, can you get these classifieds sorted? We got a couple more, and we go to print soon." Julie Greer sighed as her boss put a couple of envelopes on her desk before walking off. She'd thought interning at the local paper would be fun, glamorous even, but a small town newspaper was more small town than it was newspaper. There wasn't really enough news to put out a paper most days, but the classifieds did all right, so that was her job. For now, anyways.

Three were selling farm equipment. Two were offering rental space, one a field, the other an office space on the main street. The last was strange. Julie typed it up, Missing Hound, Answers to Stripes, and frowned a little. She wasn't sure she'd ever heard of West Str Kennels, they didn't even have a West Street in town. She moved to google it, just to see.

Her web browser was already open, showing off the blog she'd found a few weeks before. Weird happenings in the big city. Her mom thought the blog was probably fake, staged, like podcasts and webseries with tie-in twitter accounts, but Julie wasn't so sure. There was a new post up, one that was far more interesting than googling the name of a business.

She sent the file to her boss, and settled in to read.

I hope you are all staying safe and well in this difficult time. My love to all of you. Please, please leave a comment. 6 weeks into this quarantine, I need all the validation and human interaction I can get. Tell me what you liked, your favorite line, your favorite scene, which avenue you're most curious about for the next chapter...

~Hedgi