Here is one of the one-shots I promised during hiatus; this is a bit of a fix-it piece addressing one of the problems I had in the last bit of season 2. It's hard to determine exactly how long Caitlin was Zoom's captive, so this is intentionally a bit vague, but we're going with a couple of days.

This fic has some hints of Killervibe (because I've found myself shipping them more and more), but, as usual, it can easily be read as gen.

Enjoy!

The image swam into focus more slowly than usual, though still accompanied by the usual swell of headache. A flicker of blue light, sharp outlines. Like a lighthouse through a fog, the brief solidity guided him forward. White, black, blue flashes, colors of a bruise—

Then he was there.

Even though Cisco had always classified his vibes as "visions," in reality there was so much more to them than sight. A chill. Cold water through tissue-paper skin. Clanging pipes in his ears. A stench of mildew. Copper and glass on his tongue. He took a breath as the sensations flickered in and out, in and out, stabilized.

Caitlin's face, of all things, solidified first. Her eyes flickered with shadows of the vibe, terrified. For a long while, Cisco could not tear himself away from those eyes, eyes that had been sharpened bare with fright.

Then her entire face crumpled in the beginnings of a sob, and the motion rippled outward so Cisco could see the bigger picture.

What he saw stopped his heart.

Caitlin curled around herself on what appeared to be an old metal hospital bed. Cisco placed the setting automatically, because he had been to Zoom's lair before, but having confirmation that Caitlin was actually there—well.

Her hair was windblown still, unkempt, her entire being shaken by the speed of her abduction. A shackle encircled her wrist: a heavy, cold, metal shackle. Though it had already been a few hours since she'd been taken, she clawed at the edges, tugged futilely at the chain that tethered her. When it didn't budge, she cut off her sob with a whimper, biting her bottom lip to suppress the sound. Then she drew up her knees to her chest once more.

Her head swiveled, her eyes searching the empty space. Her fearful eyes.

They were what sent him out of the vibe, back to reality. He closed his own eyes until the chill slipped away. He didn't want to speak, for fear of screaming in frustration, but he knew he was expected to. Instead of facing what he didn't want to face, he said:

"I really wish we didn't have to keep Jay's helmet around." He tossed the helmet to the table as if violence toward the object might inflict violence upon its owner. "I hate this thing. Just want to put a dent in it."

"Cisco." Iris dragged him back to reality. "Did you see Caitlin in your vibe?"

Terror.

Cisco sighed. "Zoom's got her in his lair." He paused.

Get yourself together, Cisco. He'd vibed Jesse when she'd been Zoom's captive, when she'd been dirty and chained up and caged like an animal. Caitlin was uninjured, given a bed and some measure of respect. But, somehow, it felt worse.

But the others were waiting for an answer, so he tried to muster up some courage for the rest of them. "She's scared, but she's okay." Scared didn't seem like the best word for it, but there was no way to put to words what he had seen and felt.

"Oh, thank God," Barry breathed. "Alright, we need to get her back."

"I know," said Joe. "But without your speed, there's no way any of us can get through that breach Cisco found at the hospital. I just don't think there's anything we can do right now."

And that was that.

For the rest of the day, nobody said a word. Granted, they had other, theoretically-bigger problems on their hands—Wells getting kidnapped, Griffin Grey exhibiting his terrifying strength, Barry's disconcerting lack of powers—but in each quiet moment between bursts of strategy, Cisco felt like screaming at them, Have you completely forgotten that Caitlin is in the hands of a psychopath? In reality, surely they hadn't, but they were skilled at focusing solely on solvable problems. Cisco didn't have that luxury.

Which is how he ended up taking Jay's helmet home with him that night.

When he got back to his apartment, he locked the door behind him—which, he was very aware of, was no good against a rampaging speedster who could phase through walls—and slammed the metal helmet on the floor beside his bed. It didn't deserve the table.

Somehow he convinced himself to eat a piece of toast, to shower, to brush his teeth. Then, once he had made it to his bed and turned out the lights, he reached down and brushed his fingertips over the cold metal.

This time, the scene burst into clarity more quickly, possibly because he knew what he was looking for, and possibly because he was less afraid of what he might find. When he focused in on Caitlin, too, she appeared less fearful than before, her eyes alight now with derision.

The reason for such an emotion stepped into Cisco's line of vision, and, even in the vibe, he felt his muscles go stiff.

"Does this make you more comfortable?" Jay opened his arms wide, revealing civilian garments instead of his leather-and-blue-lightning horror-show.

"Nothing you could ever do would make me feel better," Caitlin practically growled.

"You don't need to be afraid," Jay continued, moving forward step by step in a way that made Cisco's skin crawl. "I'm not going to hurt you. I care too much about you to do that."

Caitlin spat daggers. "You only care about yourself, Hunter."

Jay's eye twitched, his neck contorted, as if warding off a headache. "I know you think that I'm a monster," he said. "I understand why. But that'll change." His smile reappeared, sickeningly slow. "Please, Cait."

Caitlin's reaction was instantaneous. "Do not call me that." Jay's smile disappeared. "Why are you keeping me here? You're cured. You don't need me for anything."

Jay continued advancing. "You're here because I love you." He kneeled before her. "It may take a while, but someday you'll start feeling that way about me again too."

His hand snaked forward to caress Caitlin's face, and she jerked away as much as she could. Her eyes flared with derision and a healthy dose of disgusts. That, coupled with a spike of anger so sharp it was painful, wrenched Cisco out of the vibe.

It took a minute for the room to stop flickering with remnants of blue, but, once it did, it enveloped Cisco in a comfortable. He stared into the blackness for as long as he dared, willing himself not to be sick. Then he tugged up his covers, set an alarm on his phone, and tried to convince himself that he could sleep.

He brought the helmet back to the lab in the morning, and nobody acknowledged its absence. Nor did anyone acknowledge Caitlin's. By lunch, Cisco had vibed on it twice more—enough to give him a raging headache, but enough also to give him another glimpse. The eyes, at least. Tear-filled. Angry.

The headaches were too unbearable to sustain the vibes for long, or too close together, so he resigned himself to three times a day: once when he woke up, once in the middle of the day, and once just before falling asleep. He didn't tell anyone about them, and certainly nobody asked. Not that he particularly wanted to share what he saw.

Caitlin knocking a tray of food to the floor boldly, staring boldly into Jay's face. A day later, Caitlin choking down a sandwich, then gagging over the side of the bed. Caitlin in the police station, clawing at her restrained wrist and shivering violently.

Then, finally, Caitlin on the floor of the police station. Handcuffed to the leg of a desk, forehead pressed to the metal. Motionless, eyes closed. Yet, even as Cisco watched, unsure if she was simply sleeping, her eyelids fluttered open. She stared into empty space, and Cisco saw more clearly what was in her eyes.

Nothing.

For the first time in the few days he'd been checking on her, her eyes were void. The defiance, the anger, even the fear was completely gone. She blinked once, slowly, heavily. Cisco watched the movement. Watched the eyes open to blankness once again. He, too, blinked—straight out of the vibe.

Then, alone in his workspace, he sank to his knees, clutched at his hair, and screamed.

Sleep. After the events of the day, that was all he wanted to do. The only thing he could think about. Once the initial exhilaration at getting Barry out of the Speed Force was gone, the adrenaline crash weighed him down like cement. Finally the words that had cycled endlessly through his mind the past few hours—Not him too—had cleared, leaving his mind stretched thin in the aftermath of grief and worry.

With all of the activity of the night, and the immense stress of vibing into the Speed Force, there hadn't exactly been time for his usual undercurrent of anxiety. Now that he was alone again, the prickles of dread returned. He walked down the long, curved hallway with heavy steps. Jay's helmet was still in the cortex; he would need to pick it up before turning in for the night.

Just as he rounded the corner into the cortex, he felt the energy. Like the energy of his vibes, it buzzed through his skin, but this felt more real, more authentic. A kind of anticipation, a premonition, a stepping off point. He paused in the doorway, and the feeling rooted him to the spot.

Her eyes were the first thing he saw.

Red around the edges, but surprisingly dry, they sought him out immediately. Absent, still, was much of the life and the dynamism that had always characterized them. Long-gone was the sharp terror and fire of resistance.

But, for the first time in days, Caitlin's eyes colored ever-so-slightly with relief.

"C-Cait?" Cisco said hoarsely.

"I didn't…" Caitlin's voice began as a whisper, so she cleared her throat to gain more volume. "I didn't know where everyone was."

Cisco blinked rapidly to try and clear his vision and clutched at the doorframe. "You're…" Black and white and blue. Black and white and blue. "You're not real, are you? You're not here."

In the center of the cortex floor, Caitlin wrapped her arms tighter around herself. Bit her lip. "Cisco, you're scaring me."

And, just like that, Cisco snapped out of his own terror-vision. He loosened his grip on the doorframe, muscles melting with relief, and strode across the room toward Caitlin. Her greasy hair clung to her forehead, her shirt smudged and wrinkled, her skin smeared with grime. Still, Cisco wrapped his arms around her and held tight. While she felt skinnier and frailer than he'd ever seen her, he embraced her solidity for all he was worth.

She shook like a leaf in his arms, sending vibrations throughout his body, further confirmation that she was there, she was actually there. "Shh," he said, keeping one hand on her back and threading one up to her hair. "You're safe. It's okay. I've got you." Even as he said it, he felt her slipping, slipping down through his arms, her legs giving out beneath her. He looked up over her shoulder and shouted into the empty space, "Henry! Henry, I need help!"

There was no way to know if the man could hear. In the meantime, Cisco adjusted himself in order to support her more firmly and began guiding her to a seat. The couple of feet to the chair might have been miles. Halfway there, Caitlin sagged further and mumbled something.

"What?" Cisco said softly, tightening his arm around her waist.

"Why is that here?" she repeated, slightly louder.

Cisco looked to where her gaze was fixed: Jay's helmet, still sitting on the table in the center of the room.

Liquid anger bubbled up in Cisco's chest. "It's nothing." And, as they passed, Cisco reached over and shoved it off of the table. It fell out of sight, clanging deafeningly to the ground. With any luck, it would gather dust there.

At last they reached the chair. Cisco helped her sit, then sank to his knees in front of her, taking her hands in his. Now that she was in front of him, he could see the tears leaking from the corners of her eyes, leaving visible tracks down her cheeks. Dozens of questions flew through his mind—how did you escape? is Zoom coming after you? what did he do to you?—but he settled on the most practical he could think of, the one least likely to incite more emotional trauma:

"Are you hurt?"

True, he'd never been great as a doctor on its own, but he could probably do something before Henry got there. However, Caitlin shook her head.

"I'm fine, I'm okay," she said.

The bruising and chafing on her wrists, and the way she continued to shake, told a different story. So, burying his own fears deep, he squeezed her hands lightly. "Caitlin," he said. "You don't have to be. You're safe. But you don't have to be okay."

Caitlin's face crumpled more. Somewhere down the hall, Cisco heard footsteps, a faint yell of "Cisco?" The sound threatened to tear Cisco's attention away, but he held fast. He reached up. Swiped away a tear with his thumb.

"You're safe."

Caitlin's breath hitched, and she shook her head rapidly. "I don't feel like I am," she said. "None of this feels real."

"Hey," Cisco said. He kept his hand on her cheek, guiding her gaze toward him. "Look at me. I'm right here." No more black and white and blue. Her eyes were like crystals. "This is real."

And, for the first time in days, he believed it.

Thanks for reading! As usual, I would love to hear your thoughts below!

Till next time,

Penn