Chapter Text
Cisco didn’t call. Caitlin checked her phone absently, over and over, until Frost told her she was acting like a middleschooler waiting for her crush to text back. She felt herself flushing and flipped her phone over, putting a stack of papers over it for good measure. A minute later she checked it again.
“Caity.”
“I just, he moved, that’s--you call to let everyone know you arrived safe,” Caitlin defended.
“Did he call while he was on the road trip? Or in Antarctica?”
Caitlin chewed her lip. “ Not much but--- but service was bad, and he was really busy…”
Frost sighed.
~
Cisco didn’t call. Caitlin checked her email, her spam folder, answered every single telemarketer and robo-call just in case.
“Caitlin?” Iris asked. “Everything ok?”
“Uh, no, yeah, I mean…” She trailed off. “Oh, I have the results. On that test, for your article. It looks like--” she scrambled for the printouts. “ whoever’s doing this isn’t a metahuman. They must be using tech, to make it seem like--”
“Thanks,” Iris took the papers, glancing at them. “But you know that’s not what I meant. Contrary to what some people think, our lives don’t have to be just work.”
Caitlin gave an elegant shrug. “I just… it’s been a week since he left and that’s… it’s just weird.”
“Did you call?”
“Him?” Caitlin asked. “I… he didn’t answer. I didn’t want to keep leaving messages. It was … it was late…”
“I meant, did you call all the times you left,” Iris said gently.
Caitlin shrank inwardly. “No,” she admitted.
“Just give him time.”
~
Cisco didn’t call. Caitlin stared at the article, frowning as she read the comments. It was the usual internet noise: an argument over a tiny detail blown out of proportion , a metaphobe stirring up trouble, fans of Iris praising the writing, and of the Flash cheering the effort.
“This isn’t right,” she said softly, scanning usernames and icons.
“Uh, what?” Barry asked, sprawled on the couch with the remains of a 3 foot sandwich. “Iris did her fact checking, and she was there for most of it. What do you think she got wrong?”
“Not that,” Caitlin shook her head, turning the tablet so Barry could see.
“Caitlin. You’ve gotta learn not to read the comments.”
“No, this,” She gave an angry sigh, flicking a finger to scroll back to the headline. “Flash defeats E-vile in Tech Team-up.”
Barry frowned. “Uh. That… is what you were calling him, right?”
Caitlin stood, pacing. “ something’s wrong, see for yourself.”
Barry took the tablet and speed-read through the comments. “I… ok, I must still have that concussion. What is it? No one’s being mean about the name….”
“I know! That’s the problem! It’s a terrible name, and cisco hasn’t so much as left a comment about it! Something isn’t right.”
Barry scuffed a shoe along the floor. “Caitlin, he made his choice. He doesn’t have to be part of this mess--and I can’t blame him… I miss him too, but-”
“No! No buts! He’d never let me live this down. I want you to take me to his new apartment, now.”
“If he wanted to see us, he wouldn;t have left,” Barry said, stopping her before she could interrupt. “ he asked for space. Let’s just… give it to him. Ok?”
“Ok,” Caitlin said, but her heart wasn’t in it.
~
Cisco didn’t call, and Caitlin was sick of it. On the one occasion Barry had visited ARGUS to see if Ramsey was in any state to have a trial, he hadn’t even seen Cisco. If the engineer was avoiding them, Caitlin decided, he’d have to tell that to her face. She’d left, but she’d always said she was leaving for good, she hadn’t made it seem like--like-- well.
She made up her mind.
Getting to ARGUS on her own was less than convenient, but not impossible. She told the team she was off duty for a weekend, entrusting Allegra with the massive first aid kit, and took off.
They were surprised to see her.
“Is Cisc-- is Agent Ramon available?” she asked the agent at the security desk, signing her in. It felt foreign, being so formal.
“No.” The agent did not elaborate, exchanging a glance with the Agent who’d met her at the door. “What’s the nature of this visit?”
“Oh, I’m here to check on Ramsey. Er, Dr. Rosso.”
“Oh, Bloodwork. We could have sent over the latest files, saved you a trip. Flash drop you off, Dr. Snow?”
“Uh, No,” she said. “I’d like to see Dr. Rosso.”
“There’s no change since the last check in, you know.”
“I know.” She’d read the scant report. “I just need to double check a, a new theory.”
“Hmm. I hope you’ll let us in on that,” the agent sighed. “Fine. Visitor pass.” He handed the laminated card over it, and the first man nodded.
“Well, follow me, and do not wander.”
Caitlin nodded, feeling like a chastised kindergartener. She sent a quick text: I’m here, when’s your lunch break? I need to see you.
There wasn’t even a ‘read’ indication.
~
Ramsey had not changed. There was no light in his eyes as he smiled at her, dripping darkness in his containment cell, and asked how her friends had fared. She’d tried to ignore the parts of her old friend she could almost still see, going through her mental checklist. The files had been accurate. His condition was… stable, for now. Leaving containment would speed up the progression, until he was… well, until Ramsey wasn’t anymore. The thought hurt.
“I’ve seen enough,” she told her ARGUS escort, blinking back tears. How was this her life? So many people gone, her heart full of open graves. She didn’t wait for the agent to lead the way back through the doors into the main hallway, trying to get the sight of Ramsey out of her mind.
“Wait, Dr. Snow,” the agent called out, and she froze in the doorway. She’d pushed open one of two doors, forgetting the one that led to the exit. She stepped back, releasing the door and letting it swing shut in her face again.
“Sorry,” she said, her voice thick. “I… I wasn’t thinking. Just turned around.”
It was a lie, of course. She worried the agent would be able to tell, that he’d see in the way her eyes went blue in anger, what she’d seen. But he merely walked with her back to the front hall. Caitlin swallowed bile, clamping down on Frost screaming in her mind. There were too many agents, with too many weapons. They’d be on her in a second if she tried to do anything without a plan.
But she couldn’t get the image out of her mind. The container, the tiny prison cell smaller than a Pipeline box, labeled Subject 2, and Cisco standing in it, one bloody, bandaged hand pressed flat against the glass.