the process of healing

When all is said and done, Barry flashes away—bad enough that people know the Flash exists, no need to linger and incite further speculation into the scarlet speedster's identity. He reaches S.T.A.R. Labs in seconds and carefully peels off his melted suit. The flesh beneath is burned and tender, flakes pulling away with the fabric and sucking a sharp breath from between his clenched teeth but he manages. Moving quickly, he applies enough salve and bandages to get him through the worst of it and dresses gingerly before heading to the station. He needs to be there when everyone arrives, needs to cement his own alibi.

He also needs to lay eyes on Caitlin, something he hasn't been able to do yet. He knows Cisco and Joe got her out, saw them give him the all clear, but she'd been immediately taken for questioning and observation. Barry knows protocol dictates a trip to the station and a signed statement and he needs to be there when she arrives (for his sanity and not his alibi, though he imagines Dr. Wells would invoke the latter if he had any say).

So in a streak of yellow he finds himself in his lab, taking up the illusion of processing evidence for the case against Snart, waiting for the radio to signal the arrival of the officers. When it does, he runs downstairs at a human pace but rather than join in the applause that fills the station as they enter, he searches for Caitlin. It only takes a moment to find her familiar form and when he does, he's dashing through the crowd and pulling her into a hug, his relief anything but feigned.

"I'm glad you're okay," they murmur in tandem, relief spilling from their chests as fast as air. They cling together a moment longer before they both realize the other is tense and wincing under the embrace and pull apart.

If the situation were anything but what it is, Caitlin would laugh at the searching expression Barry wears in those initial moments, his green gaze sweeping over her to assess for injuries. It's an expression she knows she wears constantly (is in fact wearing right now), but it's certainly not one she's used to finding mirrored on his face. She might find it amusing later, but for now her brow stitches itself up in worry as she wonders how severely burned he is beneath his clothes. She wishes she could ask, but they're too thoroughly surrounded.

Barry has no such reason to be candid, so he asks outright a few seconds later, once he's filled his mind with her image, relatively safe and sound before him. "How badly are you hurt?" He should sound angry (he is angry, so very, very angry that his heroics put her in danger) but instead the words are soft and sad, begging a forgiveness she would never make him seek.

"Bumps and bruises," Caitlin shrugs, giving him a small smile. (It's not the whole story, but he knows it's all he'll get for now).

There's so much more he wants to say (easy phrases like 'I'm sorry' and harder ones too, so tangled together he's not sure how he would verbalize them if he could), but he knows now isn't the time. He knows that Eddie needs to take her official statement, that there are hoops and paperwork and protocols to meet, but it's so hard to pull away when the weight of responsibility is pressing on his aching flesh and all he wants to do is drink in the reassurance of her presence. He lingers, looking apologetic and relieved and terrified all at once, unsure of what to say or do next.

Eddie, thank goodness, takes pity even if he doesn't fully understand what's playing out before him (he thinks maybe he has an idea of some of it, which is why he's waiting two feet away, looking utterly bemused by their entire exchange). "Caitlin, we've got a few things to finish before you head home." He's looking as much at Barry when he says it as he is Caitlin.

Barry nods, reaches out to grab Caitlin's hand before he can stop himself, "I'll bring you some hot chocolate?" Her grateful smile brings a little life back into his eyes and lessens the crushing weight on his shoulders and in his chest. After a quick squeeze he lets her go, watching as Eddie takes her to one of the conference rooms. Reassured that she'll be there a while and that Eddie will keep her safe, he distracts himself making hot chocolate for her and coffee for Eddie.

Once it's been dropped off, he paces, talks with Joe and Cisco, nods awkwardly at Iris and attempts to distract himself with the usual chaos of the precinct. It half works: he's almost dozing in the chair outside the conference room when the door finally opens two hours later.

Without waiting for either to comment, Barry stands and runs a hand over his face. "All done?" Caitlin and Eddie both nod and so Barry bobs his head in return. "Awesome. I told Cisco and Joe they could leave a while ago, Iris went home too," he adds to Eddie. "I figured I could take you home tonight and we can deal with your car in the morning?" He has no intention of leaving her alone but he asks rather then tells because at this point, he owes her everything, especially the control to make her own decisions.

But she just smiles gratefully and steps closer. "Sounds good."

Barry slows the pace considerably on the run to the lab, trying to hold Caitlin gingerly, afraid of aggravating any of the 'bumps and bruises' she'd casually brushed away earlier (he's not entirely successful but part of him is just afraid to loosen his grip, to take any chance she might slip through his grasp). Still, they make it there in seconds and find the place empty. Cisco has already dropped off the two guns, disabled and locked away for full dismantling in the morning and Dr. Wells is gone too.

He moves straight to the examining table and sets her down, drawing over the stool and frowning in confusion at the look on her face. "What?"

There shouldn't be anything funny about anything, but Caitlin can't help it. "You're sitting in my spot," she explains, bursting into laughter that feels like a dam breaking. She laughs until it trails off into a heavy sigh, but she doesn't cry. "I'm just not used to being on this side of the table."

It's his turn to sigh, a heavy exhale that seems to drain whatever energy he's been running on the last few hours. "You shouldn't have to be. God Caitlin, I'm so sorry." He's itching for contact again, fighting against the urge to draw her into another hug and reassure himself that she's okay but he resists and instead buries his fingers in his hair. "This is all my f—"

"Don't you dare Barry Allen." Caitlin reaches across the open space to press a hand to his cheek, turning his gaze back to her face. "I'm okay, you're okay, Snart and his partner are in custody and no bystanders got hurt." She's not about to let him blame himself—yes, she was used as bait to draw him in, but Caitlin had long since accepted that her life was a little more dangerous now, a little less predictable.

"You got hurt," he mutters, his expression falling even if his eyes don't dare leave hers.

"Probably not nearly as badly as you did," Caitlin counters, fixing him with a sharp look. "Cisco told me what you did to get the beams to cross. How bad is it?"

There's nothing he wants less right now than to take the focus of this conversation. The blame, the punishment, the responsibility—yes, completely. Her concern? Her forgiveness? He feels like he forfeit those the moment someone tried to use her against him. But Caitlin makes her own calls in life and he's been getting used to obeying them, whatever they are, so he just shrugs like a petulant child and submits. "They'll heal fast enough," but he gingerly rolls up one sleeve to show her his patch job, knowing she'll never let it go until he does.

Her nose wrinkles and she adopts an expression that is so very Dr. Snow that it pulls the first honest smile his face has seen since this all started. "Good thing you went into forensics Barry, you're not exactly a great doctor." Businesslike and bossy, so familiar it sends a wash of warmth through his system, she hops off the table and starts rummaging around the supply drawers, calling out orders for him to get on the table and remove his shirt. He listens to her mutter about undoing his mangled work with an affectionate roll of his eyes but, in the blink of eye, grabs something out of a cabinet himself.

When she turns back around, he's holding a tube of arnica gel. "Fairs fair Caitlin. If you doctor me, I doctor you." She lets out a long-suffering huff (tempered by the inevitable upturn of her lips) but nods and gets to work.

Barry apologizes with every swipe of cool gel when they trade spots a few minutes later and Caitlin lets him. She doesn't need the words so much as he needs to speak them and there's comfort in their attempts to take care of one another, even if Barry will be healed in a few hours and her bruises will be sore for a few days regardless how much arnica he applies.

It's not much, it won't ever be enough, but for a little while at least they both feel better.

So I couldn't resist the pull to write an episode tag for 1x10, especially after the challenge was issued on tumblr. I decided to post this separate from my one-shot collection because I'd like to continue it with some fallout scenes in the future.