(Author's Note: AND HERE IT IS. The last chapter. I may go back and change some of it later. I made you wait a month, Jell-O Squares, and I am so sorry. Thanks for being you, J-Squares. ~Doverstar)

It was now mid-day in Central City. The sun glowed that brilliant autumn white overhead, as though all the yellow had been sucked from it and spilled out into the trees. The shadows were almost icy, each with a tinge of blue and darker than usual, it seemed. The smell of churros radiated from somewhere nearby; some food truck must have just opened. People milled about, shopping and chasing down taxis, munching fries on street corners and waiting at bus stops. Quite as if there was not a maniac in checkered leggings threatening their livelihood with a bomb, miles beneath their feet. It didn't matter if they were aware or not. They would all be raced to safety within the next ten minutes. The same wouldn't be said of their homes and favorite restaurants, but clueless beggars couldn't be clueless choosers.

Infantino Street on Earth-66 was exactly the same. It seemed every other location in this universe was always less familiar. CCJitters, the park, Big Belly Burger, even S.T.A.R. Labs itself—they all carried a Rubbermaid full of changes when it came to the details, making the whole place stand on its own, separate from Earth-1. Even the sky sometimes looked a different shade of blue. But Infantino Street was the exception.

They had planted the same kind of tree. It was the same pavement material, the same colored benches in the square. It was the same raised dais and the same number of steps. Savitar had carved every single millimeter of this spot deep into his memory. He knew it from Barry's side of things—being the remnant of a future version of the Flash—and he knew it from his own side. He could close his eyes and remember the same moment, both from that patch of grass near the edge of the square, and from the dais opposite it. It was one of the only things in his mind that the two separate perspectives could share. The hour Iris died. No, the hour H.R. died.

He knew how nauseous this square made Barry Allen, every time he ran past it now. He knew how far 2024's Flash would go, what measures he would take, to ensure he'd never physically see it again. He knew, too, the old excitement and anticipation he himself used to feel, picturing this outwardly tame clearing. Picturing how his plan would unfold right there, how he would finally be satisfied. How the circle that never seemed whole in his head would at last be complete.

But he wasn't here to kill Iris West. He wouldn't kill H.R. on that dais instead. This wasn't that version of Infantino Street, however identical.

It was still a bit too surreal as he set Caitlin down, turning slightly on his heel to look the street over. "Professor," he demanded into his comms, "where's Eddie?"

"Still en route."

There wasn't any point in keeping the comms online for the moment. Eddie would show up when he showed up, and no amount of nagging was going to make him appear faster. This wasn't the backseat of a minivan Disneyland-bound. Savitar turned off the comms, pacing halfway up the steps of the dais, pausing, coming back down again. Nine minutes.

Caitlin had continued her protest from Merkel's lair the moment he stopped running, and was getting louder now that she'd been released from his grip. She went right past the topic of the breach machine sabotage—right past the fact that he'd gone and gotten himself sliced to ribbons and subjected to an unknown muscle deterrent—and seemed fixated on the decision he'd just made moments ago.

"What do you think you're doing?" she was snarling now.

Her tone attracted glances from passersby—and come to find out, in the middle of an overcast day, there were quite a few onlookers.

Though the run had dried any blood that had been coming from his wounds, Savitar knew the sight of the city's 'hero' in full costume with a girl in a spotless white lab coat would attract far too much attention. And Caitlin's shrill, shocked rebukes were not helping.

Time stood still as Savitar released his civilian outfit from the compressor ring in his suit, changing into them in half a heartbeat.

"How could you—"

"Caitlin, stop—"

"No—no, how could you leave—"

"Caitlin!" Savitar stepped closer and clapped a hand to her mouth, eyebrows arching in warning, eyes cutting to the sidewalk discreetly. When she paused, he removed his hand.

She lowered her voice at last, realizing what he meant, but the bite didn't go anywhere as she went on. "You can't just let that bomb go off. There is no way—not even you could get every single living thing out of this area before it detonates."

"All but one," Savitar corrected her. He wasn't listening to her statistics. They didn't have time for this. He glared at her, intending to say so, but she was looking at him with such disgust, the words died in his throat.

"Merkel?" she replied, lips barely parting as she spoke. Her eyes were wide and hard. "You're just gonna leave him down there to die?"

"If I'm lucky."

"That is exactly what he is planning to do to everyone else here." She shook her head. "That's not how we do things."

"Where? On Team Flash?" Savitar's cuts began to bleed again in several places now that he was still, and the stinging didn't do anything to improve his mood. "They're not here, Caitlin. I'm not—"

–the Flash, he wanted to say. He had everything in Barry Allen's head, from recurring dreams to the first loose tooth. But they wouldn't let him be Barry. They wouldn't let him be Savitar, either. He wanted to scream it until someone, someone heard him. Until someone listened.

But Caitlin interrupted him.

"No, you know that this isn't the right way!" She snapped. Her arms were limp at her sides, but everything else seemed to point at him accusingly. "This isn't how it works, Savitar. I thought you understood that." Her voice grew thick. "I thought—maybe you were getting better than this. But every time I think you…" She didn't finish, swallowing. Glancing away, only for a second.

He watched her eyes. They weren't cold, the way he'd expected they'd be when they were still underground. Instead, they were filmy and lost, stabbing him in a woeful linger, like he was full, but ruined. An old favorite security blanket someone had just stained.

Caitlin shook her head, slowly at first, and then so hard her curls shook too. "I can't believe you would choose this."

All the frustration he'd felt in the past few months, that dull throbbing in the back of his mind when she called him Flash, when she alluded to something she and the original had done, when she looked at him like she was looking at him now—it bubbled over. As soon as she stopped talking, it came bursting out of him.

"Because it wasn't what the Flash would do, right?"

He turned fully around, not wanting to look at her anymore. There wasn't time for this, either. And it would only make him angrier, seeing the disappointment there. Savitar ran a hand down his mouth, dragging it, trying to control the burning feeling in his chest. It was frustration, yes, but something else too. Something that felt scarily familiar. The same thing that had once made him yearn to be a god, to get rid of this sensation once and for all. Like pain, like—heartbrokenness, but wider. Emptier. A hint of what he'd felt in 2024.

"No—" But when Caitlin answered him, only half a second later, she sounded baffled, talking angrily right over the very tail of his sentence. "No, because you are him!"

The burning feeling stiffened, cool shock submerging it. Savitar moved to face her as though standing on a thinly frozen lake. "What did you say?" It came out on a breath; he hadn't meant to continue the conversation and his mouth worked before he could think.

She paused, cocking her head. Eyebrows pinched. "You really don't see it?"

Something like pity, like an apology, in the confused question.

"You're the Flash." Caitlin shifted her weight to the other foot, holding his gaze. Her tone had turned steady, and she spoke quickly at first, slowing down as she went on. As if she'd been trying to explain this on her own for some time. "And you're you. A new version—a different version, but the same person."

Savitar hardly moved.

"You don't smile the same way, or talk the same way, or—run in the same pattern. At first, I…thought you did." More confusion. And then, firmly: "But you have the same heart. It's still in there. I know you. I know you want to help people and you want to feel loved. And I know you can do the right thing, despite everything you were. Everything you've been through. That's always been you."

At first, he thought he might have stopped breathing, listening to her. But he was definitely breathing—suddenly, he felt he hadn't been able to actually inhale until right this second. Like something had been blocking him, a weight on his lungs.

Caitlin actually smiled at him. Disregarding the events of the past hour. A small, fast smile. "You are Barry, Savitar. You're just a different kind. Your own kind. And—even if you don't believe me—" she took in a huge, quiet breath after her speech, concluding, "I do want this Barry."

I want this Barry.

Savitar remembered exploding out of a nine-month coma and locking eyes, just for a second, with Caitlin. He remembered the grief she'd ignored to help him become the Flash. Caitlin's relieved smile when he returned from a mission in one piece. He remembered the smell of Germ-X on her hands after she treated his wounds. He remembered the way she looked right into him, any time he was down, setting aside what she was doing and waiting in silence for him to tell her what was wrong. And he remembered ice cream sandwiches and cleaning out the Cortex. The lack of hesitation when he'd told her to stay lest he have another Speed Force nightmare. The screech of a mic too close to her mouth over the comms. The offer of trust that made her remove her necklace when Wally lay wounded between them. The determined tilt of the chin that told him she was coming with him to another Earth whether he wanted her to or not, because she believed he could build a better life for himself. He was Barry, his own Barry, and he remembered Caitlin's patience, and her hope, and her unconditional love.

Caitlin wanted him.

Savitar ignored his metahuman speed and crossed the distance between the two of them in a few short, average strides. She'd proved she could hear him, all this time, and he meant to show her he could hear her, too.

Not wasting any more time on trying to say it all, he kissed her.

Passersby could pass by all they wanted. The bomb could go off, for all he cared. He was Barry again, and this was Caitlin, and in those few seconds before everything continued, he had to make her understand. The Speed Force left them alone, but it didn't last long anyway. In seconds, it was over.

To Savitar's relief, Caitlin's eyes weren't lost anymore. They were warm and round and full, and best of all, they didn't leave his. There was a spark of surprise in them, certainly, but she didn't seem bothered. In fact, she looked a little off-balance. She opened her mouth to say something, but the screech of tires drowned it out.

"Guys!" Eddie had arrived. The door to his police car, parked near the sidewalk, flew open, and he stepped out, already looking as if he himself had run a marathon. Despite the calm one could associate with the police, he seemed rattled, the ends of his hair darker with sweat. "We gotta get moving!"

Savitar turned, meeting the detective beside the railing. "Where's Rory?" he demanded, glancing at the car. If Thawne had indeed found the pyro, he would be held in the back like any other cuffed criminal. Caitlin was not entering that vehicle until it no longer held someone who could melt it from the inside out, should something go wrong.

Eddie, to his credit, seemed to understand the danger and was already shaking his head. "I dropped him at the station—I mean the hotel. They can hold him." Apologetically, he added, "I couldn't take him to S.T.A.R. Labs; there wasn't enough time."

Savitar turned and took Caitlin by the hand, pulling her up the steps and toward Thawne's car. "You're going with him."

She didn't yank her hand away, but she did stop walking. "Where?"

"Out of the city. S.T.A.R. Labs. Anywhere, doesn't matter. You're not staying here, not till it's safe."

"Wait, I'm—"

"What happened?" Eddie cut in, opening the door for Caitlin. "Did you take care of the bomb?"

Savitar pursed his lips, meeting Caitlin's gaze as she slid into the shotgun seat, looking pale. I know you can do the right thing. Could he? After all that had happened to him? It was in there. She could see it.

He could still try to get everyone out. He could go ahead with his original plan. Get his team to safety and take a shot at emptying this half of the city. Belowground, the Rag Doll remained trapped with his own explosive, probably still smiling away. Peter Merkel deserved to die.

But so had Savitar, once upon a time.

He gave Caitlin the smallest nod as Eddie strapped himself in. "I'm working on it."

Caitlin's face remained white and strained for a second longer, and then her expression cleared in understanding. He thought she might smile again, and though he wanted to see it, he shut the car door, straightening and ordering curtly, "Go."

In a blur, he had changed back into his suit. He'd need to contact the Labs from here.

Eddie started up the vehicle again, but Caitlin wasn't finished. The window slid down and she still hadn't pulled her gaze away.

"We'll see you back at S.T.A.R. Labs," she said briskly.

Savitar opened his mouth to protest, but the police car burst into life, making a sharp U-turn—headed north, toward this Earth's version of Team Flash's home base. He could have caught up to it easily, of course, but there were more important things to worry about than winning an argument. If Caitlin wanted to wait for him at S.T.A.R. Labs, however unsafe it was with the bomb still out there, he couldn't change her mind. And neither could Eddie, who obviously wasn't interested in trying. In fact, if this Detective Thawne was anything like the last one, he probably agreed with her.

Time to get going, then.

When normal people run, especially after having been dormant for a long time, it always feels good. Just a little bit. Even if they didn't exercise regularly, even if it burned and ached during and after those first few strides. Human muscles enjoyed being used, were supposed to be used. It was nearly the same way for those connected to the Speed Force—but this was so much more satisfying. Savitar's entire body craved this kind of movement, day and night, and when he fed it, every inch of him screamed with joy. There was nothing like it, not in the entirety of the multiverse.

"Professor Stein." He switched on the comms.

A testy, rapid, sarcastic response: "Oh, are we relevant again?"

"Change of plans. Caitlin's coming to you."

"But S.T.A.R. Labs is easily included the blast zone," Stein argued. "If you can't deactivate the explosive, you'll be sending her to her death."

"Hey, we dead too," Wally's voice was dry in the background.

"Not anymore. I'm taking the bomb out of the city."

He was searching for the exit he had taken when removing Caitlin from the sewer system. Savitar sped past the correct, already-open manhole cover the first time. After righting himself, he leapt down into the sewer, skipping the ladder altogether. He wouldn't have night vision with his suit still pulled tight into his compressor right, but he shouldn't need it. After all that had just happened in that particular section of the city's underbelly, would remember the way.

"Even if you do remove it from the premises," Stein was saying, with the pace of someone trying to speak as quickly as he thought, "by the time you make it outside our borders, the bomb will still detonate, still cause massive amounts of damage—"

"Can't disarm it. I won't have time," Savitar interrupted.

"Well, there isn't exactly an uncharted wasteland just past the city welcome sign."

"Maybe not, but there's Leawood." Wally again. Now his voice was croaky, as though he could use a glass of water, but apart from that there was no character to it. No emotion. He almost sounded as professional as Eddie. Savitar knew Wally West—and he knew this version, which seemed to be even more insecure than his Earth-1 counterpart, was running over the last hour repeatedly in his mind. But they couldn't afford to have any member of the team hung up on the breach machine sabotage now.

Savitar turned right, trying not to think about how much worse the smell became down here every time one rounded a corner. "Leawood?"

"Of course!" There came the sound of Stein thumping a hand down on something. "Brilliant, Mister West!"

"He gets it there on time, we might have a chance," Wally went on, tone spiraling up just a little, betraying excitement.

"Guys!" Savitar snapped.

Stein was typing; the clicking was loud and agitating in the speedster's ear. "Leawood was once a residential area, some eighty miles outside the city," he explained quickly. "However, it was also home to one of the state's sole nuclear power plants—"

"Back when S.T.A.R. Labs lit up, it reached Leawood and set off some kinda reaction in the plant," Wally interrupted.

"Fifty-nine people died, and the area was evacuated due to dangerous amounts of radiation." Stein's typing ceased. "If you can make it out to Leawood with the explosive and escape before it goes off, it's more than large enough to contain the blast without any casualties."

Savitar had reached the Rag Doll's lair. It was still—which felt wrong, almost. His heart rate and adrenaline said that the Earth should be shaking along with him. Especially when that bomb only a few feet away had a mere eight minutes left to go. But it was dark and cool and silent. He went to the far wall, where the television set still sparked occasionally from his earlier phasing maneuver. The bomb was so small, cylindrical. It was difficult to believe something that looked like a packaged metal Twinkie could cause enough damage to level half the city.

Savitar glanced up at the phone booth. He could just see the top half of the glass case, and the crown of Merkel's head against the wall. So he hadn't escaped. One more thing the speedster wouldn't have to worry about. Whether the Rag Doll was aware he had returned or not remained to be seen; what little Savitar could see of the man didn't move an inch.

"By my calculations, you'll need to go nearly Mach 5 to reach Leawood at least two seconds before the bomb detonates." Stein exhaled a little, making the comms crackle in Savitar's ear. "If you delay by even a minute, the explosion will almost definitely reach some form of civilization. It must be placed precisely in the heart of the area, or someone—some structure—will suffer for it."

"First he's gotta get it out." Wally reminded him. He sounded forcibly calm, like he was doing some kind of breathing exercise. "One thing at a time, man."

Savitar examined the bomb, not reaching for it yet. "It's not strapped in."

"Beg your pardon?" Stein asked.

"It's not hooked up to anything. No wires."

"A pocket explosive. It must be extremely sensitive, then," mused the professor, "to hold that much power, contained in such a compact device. You've got to use the utmost caution."

"Where's it at?" Wally demanded. "The bomb."

"In an old TV. It's what Merkel used to watch us." Savitar leaned closer as he spoke, trying to see the side of the explosive that was somehow attached to the innards of the box.

"Okay, so…" The tone West used said that the solution was obvious. "Just take the whole thing."

There was a rare stretch of silence from Stein. "That works."

Savitar looked around, reaching for the discarded back of the television set. He pressed it over the opening he'd made, holding it there with both thumbs. After tentatively yanking the cord from the back, he lifted the box easily in both arms, glancing up at the phone booth. Merkel was watching him now—the speedster could see his eyes when the booth's light zapped into life. But it was like looking into the eyes of a wax figure. No emotion.

FWOOSH!

He exited the sewer without much trouble this time; he wasn't looking for a specific exit. He just needed to reach the surface with the bomb intact.

When he came out of the first manhole he encountered, he was still downtown. Savitar turned the volume up on his comms as he prepared to run again, tapping the side of his costume's hood once.

"Where am I headed?" he asked.

"Go south." Wally ordered. "There's light traffic, so less people."

"There is a quicker route, should you move east—less twists and turns—"

Savitar shook his head. They were in the home stretch, but Stein couldn't resist working in a lecture. Or at least an extended version of his own opinion. He remembered Stein being just a bit less long-winded on Earth-1. In crisis situations, there hadn't been this much talking coming from the old man in elbow patches.

"—but I believe I have to side with Mr. West this time around; you want human contact at a bare minimum with your kind of cargo."

"Bro." Wally chortled. "Can you not just say same or something?"

For a moment there was a crackling quiet. Then: "The way your generation has butchered the English language is unrivaled throughout the planet's history."

Tuning them out as they bantered, Savitar wanted to close his eyes as he ran. It wasn't something he did often—especially now that his metal armor had been discarded. When he'd had it, he had installed a sort of autopilot, something that would shift him out of the way of oncoming objects while he moved. His counterpart had never acquired the option; Barry could only close his eyes as he ran on Cisco's treadmill. Like their desire to just move, once a speedster had begun to run, the desire to shut one's eyes was just as overwhelming. There was something about going faster than anything around you—like the endlessness of looking up at the spotless blue sky, or being submerged in still, warm water, it was independent and peaceful. There was power to it, and adrenaline, but the other side of the Speed Force was so much less charged. It was an escape. And when he'd still been broken enough to wear that metal armor, an escape was all running had become. Autopilot was essential.

Of course, it wasn't a good idea to escape right at the moment. Not just because autopilot was nonexistent now, but also because he was carrying cylindrical death along with him.

"Take a right," Wally suddenly ordered, and the desire to shut his eyes vanished.

Savitar obeyed. He was in the country now, passing by a few gardens and fields. He hadn't realized he was on a dirt road until he glanced backward, noting the enormous cloud of caramel-colored dust he was kicking up. The air was getting colder as the day wore on, and he could smell raw, wild apples nearby.

"You're thirty miles from your destination," Stein informed him. "If my watch is set properly, you should have about four minutes until detonation."

Thirty miles was nothing. But the television set was getting heavier in his arms—he had super speed, not super strength—and he could feel rare anxiety gathering at the crown of his skull. He had no doubt he would make it to Leawood in time for the bomb to go off. He wasn't so sure he would be able to turn and run quickly enough out of the blast zone.

Especially as he came upon the deserted area.

All the residential buildings were overrun with vegetation that had refused to be stifled by the nuclear blast. Everything was bushy and itchy and overgrown, even in the autumn. The air was thick with the smell of decaying leaves and something icier, something more acidic. Savitar knew his suit would be programmed to filter out any toxins he might be in danger of inhaling—he did have the slightly-upgraded version—but his eyes and nose still stung as he entered Leawood.

There were so many plants, and too many unfamiliar streets.

"Where's the center?" Savitar demanded. He had to stop, looking around, heart rate skyrocketing. He couldn't stop moving. They didn't have seconds to spare. But if he kept running, he might risk moving even farther away from where he ought to be.

"Hold on." Stein's clicking resumed.

He thought he could feel the television set heating up in his arms. He could certainly hear every beep as the bomb ticked closer to its breaking point.

Beep.

Suddenly it seemed very important he explain himself to his newfound team. He wasn't sure what drove him to it. There were a thousand things he could have said to them—many of them messages to Caitlin Snow—though what he couldn't ignore was one that seemed least important. It wouldn't make a difference in the end, but he cared. He cared whether they heard it. What they would think of him if he wasn't around to make it up to them. The babbling professor and the overenthusiastic intern.

Beep.

Beep.

There was an urgency pulsing in his head as he listened to the explosive beep, and he puffed out, "Wally—the breach machine. If I didn't—"

"Shut up, man, you're not dyin'," came the impatient interjection.

Savitar shut up, a slight crooked grin of admiration threatening to twitch its way out.

"There!" Stein shouted. "Run forward a full mile and turn left. Place the bomb beside the only bench in the square, the left side. That's the exact center of the area."

BEEP.

BEEP.

"Two minutes," warned Wally. A sliver of nerves shot through his tone. Savitar pictured him with his hands laced behind his head, the way Earth-1's Wally sometimes dealt with stress.

Savitar raced through Leawood. Everything became liquid, as though he were running through a sidewalk chalk painting that had been rained on. The colors on the trees blended together; the details of the buildings disappeared. He would have one minute left to get out of the blast zone by the time he reached the right spot.

The bench was made of iron, and almost completely covered with ivy, so that at first he almost ran past it, mistaking it for a shrub.

As gently as he could, Savitar lay the television set down on the left side of the seat. "Okay," he breathed into the comms.

BEEP.

There was a siren kind of noise—a slow build of a screech. Savitar suspected he could only hear it because he was standing so near the device. Fifteen seconds. Time was about to be up.

And he didn't know the fastest route out.

"Do not go back the way you came!" Professor Stein burst out into his ear, giving him his answer. "Go straight on in the direction you are currently facing."

"Don't knock into anything," Wally added. "There's a big hole near the power plant. You move fast enough, you can clear it."

"Keep going until we give you the all-clear," Stein commanded.

Savitar nodded, heartbeat dying away in his skull. The Speed Force danced against his eyelids. He had his orders. Nothing left to do but run.

FWOOSH!

The last beep sounded as he exited the square. Savitar could hear the explosion, but he didn't feel it at his back. He'd cleared the power plant's gap. He'd sped past the fading town sign. He was already two miles out of Leawood. The road was gone—he was running through woodland now, blazing past fir trees and over pine needles and logs. The acrid smell was overtaken by raw wilderness—that tangy, minty smell that came with pine trees, the cold scent of fall, maybe a thunderstorm on the way.

At that moment, there was a bomb ravaging a deserted section of Central City. But Savitar could almost forget it was so close. There was just the speedster himself, moving and moving and moving, faster than the birds overhead or the most souped-up cars miles away. With every beat of each foot against the ground, his nerves faded and a familiar feeling of euphoria—what it must feel like to be a god, apart from everything, everything there was—colored him.

"Stop!" Wally barked.

Savitar slid to a halt immediately, breaking through the trees into a small cornfield. He turned around. The smoke from the bomb was an enormous black cloud easily seen over the trees.

Stein was relaying the results as quickly as he possibly could. "A radius of 2,000 miles. Several buildings collapsed, all of them in Leawood. Zero fatalities. The blast didn't come anywhere near reaching downtown Central City, though I daresay it'll be the top story on the local news channel tonight…"

Savitar exhaled. He wasn't out of breath from his run. But there was a new sense of peace that his flashing about hadn't given him—it was over. The Rag Doll, his bomb, the metahuman band that had terrorized Earth-66 all this time. It could be taken care of so easily now. His first trial as this world's hero—almost completed.

"…and you'll find Mr. Merkel right where you left him," Stein concluded, with barely-disguised smugness.

Savitar grinned. "That's what the comms are for."

While Savitar was out retrieving their enemy, Caitlin arrived at S.T.A.R. Labs. Eddie had wanted to barrel in with her, but Caitlin had insisted he return to the CCPD's temporary headquarters and be sure Mick Rory was still there. When all this was over, it would be the detective's first priority to begin the process of freeing Joe West.

When all this was over.

But even now that it was—after Savitar had carried the bomb to a safe distance, after Caitlin had called Stein and confirmed everyone was safe—there was still too much going on. Her analytical brain couldn't pin any of it down. She thought she might be having a panic attack. Of course, the symptoms weren't really there. She didn't feel nauseous and she wasn't hyperventilating.

Really, there was nothing physically wrong with her anymore, though Professor Stein was still adamant she join him in the med bay to be sure that was true.

"I'm afraid I'm far from your medical expertise," Stein apologized, shutting down the x-ray he had been using to examine her ankle. "Seems you left your metahuman abilities out of the little history you gave me," he added with raised eyebrows. "How long have you had them?"

"Not long," Caitlin mumbled, almost numbly. "About a year. They didn't really…show up until just recently. I have trouble controlling them."

"You performed well enough today," he praised her. "We all did." When Caitlin didn't respond, eyes on the floor, he came closer. He even pulled up the only chair in the room. "Yet…you seem dissatisfied?"

Caitlin wasn't really looking at the floor. She wasn't seeing it. Instead she saw Infantino Street, and not the one that had haunted her nightmares seven months ago. Savitar hadn't known, all this time, how she saw him. He'd thought—all this time—that what she wanted was Barry Allen. That she'd wanted him to go back to being a carbon copy of the man on Earth-1, with his awkward interruptions and his shining smile and his sweater vests.

That was Barry, but it wasn't Savitar. How could he have thought she was so discontent? She must not have done a good job showing evidence to the contrary. Showing that she was proud of his progress and she admired his own independent qualities—the autumn copper smell, his affinity for black that was apparently not exclusively linked to his dark past, he just liked that color. The smirks in the place of that shining smile, the refreshing bluntness he used when talking to her. Of course she wanted him the way he was. The fact that he might not have known that all along made other actions a little easier to dissect.

The breach machine. It had been his doing. He'd kept it from her and kept her from home. Caitlin had been hurt enough times in life to have mastered the art of protecting one's heart. She didn't trust easily, despite helping easily. It had taken her this long to call Savitar a friend—and that was even with a face she knew! But in the background, all the while, he'd been doing this. He'd been working on trapping her here. She couldn't wrap her head around it. What had she done that had warranted such a stab in the back? He'd always known she had to leave. He knew how much she needed her family on Earth-1. How she belonged there. But he'd taken everything that had been built between them and thrown a chain around it. She hadn't done a very good job of protecting her heart, it seemed.

And he'd kissed her. There was that too. She felt dizzy just thinking of it; it was almost like she forgot it had happened every few seconds—but the meaning behind the action, not the action itself, kept leaping up from in between everything else clogging her brain. That, more than anything, was what kept her numb and rooted to the spot in the med bay.

Stein cleared his throat. "Doctor Snow?"

Caitlin looked up, eyes wide. "Hmm?"

"I don't claim to know much about the female mind," Stein reiterated, "but shouldn't you be celebrating your success?"

All at once, she unloaded. She told him everything. Every little thing she could think of that was nagging at her about the days' events. Infantino Street, the breach machine, Merkel's kidnapping her, Savitar's decision to spare the Rag Doll, the kiss, how she couldn't decide whether she hated him or cared more than ever now. Cared in a baffled, almost painful way she was afraid to define. Cared about Savitar! How she could have gone home the first time Wally fired up the portal if it hadn't been for the man she'd called her teammate here. How Savitar must have been so hurt, so fractured, thinking for this long that she preferred some other version of him. That she was constantly disappointed in him, when the opposite was true. How she'd decided ripping off her necklace to be certain Savitar wouldn't have to worry about her was more important than losing control. All of it.

The way Stein listened reminded her distinctly of Dr. Wells—before she'd discovered he was an imposter, a murderer, evil down to the roots of his teeth. The professor sat placidly, silent, waiting until she was quiet again. His hands were folded neatly in his lap, and his eyes never left her face or drooped in the slightest.

"I just…" Caitlin rolled her eyes as she finished, looking at the ceiling. Her fingers fought with each other over one knee; she was too wound up. "I don't understand any of what he's done. I don't know…how to—" She gestured feebly with both palms. "—what to do with him now."

Stein nodded, slowly. His posture was calm for someone who had just helped avert a city-wide catastrophe.

Caitlin paused, pursing her lips. She glanced at him sheepishly. "Sorry. I know that was a lot to process."

Professor Stein took a breath before he spoke, removing his spectacles to polish them with a handkerchief in his coat pocket. Caitlin felt a rush of affection, watching him. "You forget, Doctor Snow, that I too was young once. I admit I've never quite had your same experiences, but I can relate to at least one of the troubling things you've mentioned." He put the spectacles back on. "I've been through love's ups and downs myself."

Caitlin shook her head hard, almost chuckling. Her arms went gingerly to fold around her middle. "I'm not so sure that's what this is."

Love's ups and downs. As if she could call it that. As if that Barry Allen running through the city just now, the one that had closed off the only chance she'd had of going home, could be one half of that equation. She couldn't make it work, couldn't picture it. Even if she'd seen something impossibly soft and deep when he'd looked at her just an hour ago on Infantino Street. Even if she didn't know what else to call that something. She wouldn't give it that name, not now. Not now that she could breathe again. Think again.

Stein's mouth shrugged for him. "Perhaps not. But, and feel free to correct me if I overstep…"

He stood, turning as he spoke to put away some of the supplies he'd taken out to inspect her—a stethoscope, a bag of ice, little things.

"If all you've told me about Savitar is true—that he is a physical manifestation of—of—a potential outcome, of this—Barry Allen…." Stein glanced back at her as she sat rigid on the gurney. "The man you are used to, the original, had the potential to become a villain, isn't that right?"

Caitlin nodded, licking her lips. Picturing the big metal armor and the torn half of Barry's face and that wicked grin he used to wear. Everything familiar and really wrong.

"And Savitar proved that theory once. Now, thanks to you, Miss Snow, he's reversed it. And here he is, simply proving something else." Stein faced her fully now, actually smiling.

She waited, tilting her head. That smile was a bit unsettling, considering Stein didn't smile often. She could feel her eyebrows drawing tightly together. Whatever he was getting at, something in her was unfolding. Something a little nervous. Like maybe she could realize just a taste of what was coming next, if she let herself mull it over.

"That Barry Allen has always had the potential to love one Caitlin Snow."

Caitlin looked away, looked at the floor again. Whatever had been unfolding was now completely open. Perhaps she hadn't been expecting that theory after all. In fact, she was finding it difficult to think again. To pin anything down. But she knew Stein was right—there were a lot of potential outcomes in the many relationships two people could have. The multiverse itself was living proof of that. With one action, with a word, things could end up differently. If the right components were already in place. The Barry Allen she knew best, the one wearing scarlet and waiting at home, was very close to her indeed, and they understood one another on a different level than they had anyone else. In truth, though, he had loved and needed Iris West.

But this Barry had needed someone else. And it made something gold and light flutter hopefully inside her to think it had been Caitlin herself.

Stein was watching her, looking sort of amused. "Am I wrong?" His tone told her he highly doubted it and was not used to such an outcome. He probably wasn't even used to asking the question.

Caitlin knew she was shaking her head, but she hardly felt it. "I…" She looked up at him, suddenly feeling very young and afraid. "What if I don't? What if I don't have that potential?"

He met her gaze with wisdom that didn't come from age. It was a relatability she saw there. Stein knew he was looking at someone who had already lost in love, at least in the romantic kind. That she was terrified that this, too, just wouldn't happen. It wouldn't fit. Ronnie was gone. Jay had lied. Why should this be any different? What if she screwed it all up? What if everything changed, like the Singularity, or Zoom? She couldn't lose someone again. If she didn't have to, she wouldn't. She wouldn't set it all in motion. Not if she wasn't sure. Not if she couldn't tell that it worked.

"Well—" Stein sat back down, eyebrows bouncing. "I suppose there is a risk, as with anything else. There is evidence of his feelings—it would explain his involvement with your multidimensional portal, just a—a primal desire for you to remain with him. And it explains his decision to spare our Mr. Merkel—your influence." He thought for a moment. "Caitlin—" her informal name sounded strange coming out of him "—if there's one thing my marriage to Clarissa has taught me over the years, it is the true definition of love."

She swung her legs over the side of the gurney, leaning forward a bit.

"Selflessness." Stein's smile remained. "Caring more for the other person's needs than for your own. Making them more important to you than you are." He spread his palms. "From what I've seen and heard between the two of you since we met, it's abundantly clear you care for Savitar in this way." When she opened her mouth to protest, he held up one of those palms to dissuade her. "Perhaps not from the beginning—but everything you do does seem to be in his best interest."

Caitlin wanted to tell him he was wrong. Guilt poked and prodded as she remembered how sharp she could be with the speedster, how often she reminded him of his past sins, how little faith she'd had in him in those early days. How controlling and agitated she could become. She wanted to say she'd done it all because it was the right thing to do. Not because she loved Savitar.

But the more she considered it, the more she saw that wasn't true. When they'd first arrived on Earth-66, yes, she'd done everything to help Savitar because it had been her job. It had been the safest route, for him and for the multiverse. Reforming him was her duty. But as time had gone on, hadn't she done things for him because she cared? No one had told her to bring him breakfast, he could run out and get it himself. He didn't need someone to talk to, but she'd spent hours doing just that. Enjoying it. Every cup of coffee, every shared look, every stolen Jell-O carton, every heart-to-heart, and the hugs, and the nights spent awake, making sure he slept without being disturbed by Speed Force nightmares. Caitlin had spent seven months devoting almost every spare action toward Savitar. Not making him good again—just caring for him. About him. Because she wanted to.

Because, yes, she did love him. In spite of what he'd done, past or present. It was more than the adorable smirks or the black jacket she was becoming fond of or the sarcastic banter that brightened the hour. Those were little things, icing on the cake. He was Barry Allen, after all—a different Barry Allen. And Caitlin had gone and 'fallen in love' with him, though the phrase hardly seemed adequate.

Caitlin glanced at Stein with eyes that were not quite wet, and still afraid. "Oh no."

Stein chuckled. He may have been about to say something, but he never got the chance. With the usual rush of air, Savitar was in the room.

The speedster wasn't in his superhero outfit anymore; wearing the civilian clothes he'd donned on Infantino Street. Caitlin felt her heart rate increase and wondered how she'd missed it happening before. She could even hear it pounding in her ears.

Stein seemed to just dematerialize, he left the med bay so skillfully. Caitlin almost wanted to call him back.

Savitar was watching her, and she saw with a twinge of satisfaction that he seemed apprehensive. She looked at him, feeling all the horror and pain that had spiked through her when Merkel had revealed his part in the breach machine's issues. How could he justify trapping her here? He'd changed so drastically. Keeping her from going home was something the God of Speed would have done. Not Savitar.

She felt words boiling on her tongue. The sharpness that came so easily, the cold under her fingernails. But Savitar began to actually approach her, and her heartbeat wouldn't slow down. She nearly forgot anything she'd thought to say. His fists bounce a little at his sides as he walked, jaw working. Barry looked good with one blue eye, oddly enough. The closer he got, the more Infantino Street seemed to form around them. Her mouth felt dry. That face—the older, darker version of it, was so familiar to her after these months. In a different way than Barry's was. A way that made that gold feeling swarm up again.

But she wouldn't let her emotions, this awakened affection, shove the very serious hurt out for the moment. She wasn't that young. Caitlin tried to control her tone. "Savitar—"

He stopped her by holding out a closed fist and taking one of her hands, dropping something heavy and small into it.

Caitlin peered at it, standing up off of the cot. The object was circular and metal, almost like a clock, with a gauge on its face and no letters or numbers. Just two colors—white, or midnight blue. The tiny red hand inside was dormant in the far-left corner of the gauge, lying still in the white section. There was a little dial on the side of the machine, like the pointed end of a battery.

"What is this?" she mumbled.

Savitar's countenance was neutral, apart from a slight shaking. "This," he said, voice low, "is what I used to block the breach."

As Caitlin glanced at the pocket device in her hand, she suddenly pictured the worktable in Savitar's room. She'd noticed the table only once, covered in pieces of scrap metal and a few tools from the engineering wing. All this time she'd dismissed it as mere tinkering—something Savitar could still do. He'd made his own suit of armor, hadn't he? But it hadn't been harmless tinkering. He'd used his talents to send a glitch through Wally's hard work.

"It's off." Savitar's voice faltered for a moment. Then it was strong again, and brisk as ever. "The machine'll work fine now."

Caitlin's mouth became even drier. I can go back. But the thought was short, and fleeting. She felt she could only focus on right this minute, on Savitar, who stood there with his arms lifeless at his sides, feet shuffling in their place.

"Why did you do it?" she demanded. Surprisingly, it wasn't sharp. It wasn't even hard. She just sounded quiet.

Savitar was close now, just half a foot from her. But he seemed more unbalanced by it than she was. "Because—" He started, but he paused, swallowing, and then he looked down and held off for what appeared such a long time, Caitlin wondered if he'd ever finish. When he did, it was a bit louder, but not firm at all. "Because I need you."

I need you.

She'd been needed plenty of times, by several people. Why, then, did this feel so different? So much better?

Caitlin leaned down a little, trying to catch his eye. When he did straighten and look down at her again, there was such a longing and a loneliness there, she wished he'd gone on staring at his shoes.

"I started working on this," he tapped it hard in her hand with a finger, loosely, and let his arm drop back down again, "the night after you went back. When you left to get the transmogrifier." He shook his head. "I don't want you to leave. I didn't want you to leave then, I don't—" Savitar sniffed, just once, and Caitlin realized how vulnerable he really was at the moment. He had never, not in the entire time she'd known him, looked simultaneously more and less like his Earth-1 doppelganger. "I don't want you to leave now."

She should have been furious over that stupid machine. But instead she was heartbroken. She knew exactly what that lonely feeling was. He had the same yawning hole inside she'd had. They had both lost everything once upon a time, and the way he was watching her, with a very real fear—how could she be angry with him for doing everything he could to keep the hole from getting any wider?

Caitlin dropped the device onto the cot and wrapped her arms around him. Savitar didn't hesitate to return the embrace, holding her tight. She could feel his breathing slow, like he was falling asleep. For a moment, she felt so content there, she wondered why her face was wet.

"This is your fault," he said in normal tones now.

She released a half-hearted laugh and almost let go, but he didn't allow it, tightening his grip. "How?"

"You made me need you." Savitar finally pulled away, arms swinging absently again. His fingers twitched, she noticed. They were close enough that she felt them against her own, like he wanted to take her hand again, but he resisted, repeating, "I need you, Cait."

Caitlin felt that elevated heartbeat drop. Cait. She loved that nickname. Only two people had ever called her Cait. She wouldn't tolerate it from anyone else. The med bay got warmer when she heard it.

He reached around her, doing it slowly, and Caitlin smelled that autumn and copper mixture as he moved back with the circular machine in his hand. "But I'm not gonna keep you here." With both hands, he snapped the little device in half. There wasn't even a spark.

Caitlin watched the pieces as they clattered to the ground with a sound like a pencil hitting the floor. Stein's words floated back to her. Love is self-sacrifice. Savitar was letting her go. She belonged on Earth-1—and he wouldn't withhold it from her, however much he did, in fact, love her.

She locked eyes with him. Barry's eyes and mouth and hair and voice, but Savitar's Barry. She decided there were very few faces she liked better, hidden scars and all.

Savitar was speaking again, voice back to its usual rasp. He spoke quickly, as if trying to get it all over with, but Caitlin scarcely heard him, mind fixed on the broken device sitting on the floor. What it meant. "I talked to Wally." He shrugged. "We're not exactly bros or anything, but he's letting me off the hook. He said he can have the machine up—"

Caitlin stood on tiptoe to kiss him. Savitar effectively forgot the breach machine.

That soft expression was in his eyes again when she moved away. He went on gazing at her as Caitlin picked up the pieces of his breach-killer, giving him a smile that sang of sadness, though she pushed as much sincerity into it as she could. "Thank you," she said, "for letting me go."

Savitar nodded once, exhaling slowly. "You're coming back." It wasn't a command or a question. He said it as if he were saying the walls were white. Fact.

"Of course." Caitlin cleared her throat, surprised at the lump forming there.

Savitar's eyes barely flickered away from her when she held up the broken device. Self-sacrifice. And it had only taken him seven months.

"You know," she said teasingly, trying to force the lump away, "You learn a lot faster than Barry does."

(Author's Note: Oh, the drama.

Well, this is it, my friends. Your reviews have helped me get better and make me want to keep going! And if you've just finished this fic for the first time, drop a review no matter how long it's been! I read all of them, however late. I may do a few little sequels to this, stay tuned! Love you, Jell-O Squares. Thanks so much for reading this monster thing! Don't be strangers. ~Doverstar)