She was such a neat freak.

Cisco had a hard time finding some little object of Caitlin's that had been on her body long enough that he could vibe off it every time. Their tablets got passed around too much. She regularly alternated her pens ("What," he said, "so they won't feel neglected?" "Shut up, Cisco.") and didn't leave a hoodie tossed over the back of her chair like he did. Her cardigans were always perfectly coordinated with her outfit, every day.

It didn't feel quite right to sit in her chair. He tried anyway and discovered she wasn't actually in it long enough on any given day. His vibes sputtered and clutched like the engine of the car his Tio Berto wouldn't give up, claiming it was a classic.

Like the car, his vibes were a classic piece of shit when he tried them from her chair.

He hunched in it, tucking one foot up under the opposite knee, and then thinking, she's gonna be mad I put my shoes on her chair. She still hasn't forgiven me for standing on mine, that nut.

Dread hit him so hard he gasped.

Not a vibe. Just his own dread of never getting to hear her yell at him for putting his shoes on the chairs again.

He breathed and thought, find something of hers, make sure she's safe. First step.

He remembered her talking on the phone the other day. Her mom, maybe? She'd been making a pained face, like someone getting a root canal, promising themselves that the torture would be over shortly. She'd switched ears briefly and pulled her earring out, tucking it into the top drawer of her desk before rubbing the little hollow under her earlobe. Then she'd switched the phone back, saying, "No - because I'm busy. I realize that, but - "

She'd rolled her eyes at him. He'd smirked back at her and wandered off to see if there was any ice cream left in the freezer.

Cisco yanked the drawer open and found the earring, a little gold triangle with one of those fish hook tops. It must have been jabbing her.

He smoothed his thumb over it. She wore these a lot. She probably had the other one at home, in a drawer, until she could put the pair back together.

Would she get to put the pair back together?

He rubbed his chest. It hurt. His heart, or his lungs. He wasn't sure. He closed his eyes, let out his breath, and cracked the door in his brain, peering through, hoping there was something to see.

Fear swamped him, filling him up so high that he couldn't see his surroundings. He caught glimpses of things, but mostly it was just fear and loneliness and the beat of her heart in her throat and -

He slapped the door closed with a gasp. His heart hammered against the walls of his chest, and his palms dripped sweat, and his breath stuttered in his lungs.

It was like the flashbacks he'd gotten for months, after Thawne had - well. Anyway.

He breathed - in, two three, out two three four five. Over the summer, the department therapist had made him learn some of this stuff, even after he said he was fine, just fine, no panic attacks on the job, nope, nope, nope, but maybe it couldn't hurt to learn the techniques, just in case, you know.

They'd helped.

And now they were coming in handy again. Yippee.

Well, he thought once he'd come down. She was alive. He'd felt her heart beating. And she didn't seem to be in pain. Just scared.

God. So scared.

Any more details were impossible to come by, but those were the basics. So - that was something, right?

Not quite enough, though.

He was too close. Was it because he knew her so well? Or because she was so intensely afraid?

He breathed again and closed his hand around the earring, cracking the door again. Being prepared for the fear didn't help. It still stole his breath and kicked his heartbeat into overdrive.

Though he'd never tried before, he thought at her, it's okay, it's gonna be okay, we're not gonna let him hurt you, we're gonna kick Zoom's butt and then we're gonna bring you home -

If she could sense that, somehow, it didn't help. The fear swelled and battered at him, like drowning in the middle of the ocean, far from land. He yanked himself out again.

In, two, three.

Out, two three four five.

He was going to have to use Jay's helmet. The thought made his skin crawl. But he had to figure out where she was.

He looked at the earring again, thought about putting it in his pocket, but replaced it in the drawer. The less he handled it, the more it would retain her impression, like a pillow that still smelled like a lover after the breakup. Maybe sometime soon, he'd be able to move through that fear and see what she saw.

Anyway, he should leave it where she would find it. She was going to want to put it back together with its match.

FINIS