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The street was so quiet one could hear the sound of the snowfall.
The flakes landed on the frozen pavement with a hush, and in the shadows of the deserted street, a single figure crept through the darkness, careful to lift their feet up with every step. Footsteps in the snow trailed in their wake, but that was unavoidable; they could only hide their tracks in the darkness as much as possible, praying only that the snow and the cold and the late hour would prevent people from coming out onto the street until the snow fell sufficiently enough to fill in their footsteps by morning. This being the heart of the city, however, they could only pray that they would remain undetected as long as possible. A loud crack in the ice made them flinch and look around nervously, pressing themselves back to the nearest wall while their eyes flitted up and down the, thankfully, still-empty street.
Shivering in the coldest winter to hit the city in many years, they set off once more, careful where they put their feet. They stopped in front of an unassuming door set on the front porch of an unassuming home several blocks down. Four rhythmic raps later, the door opened a crack, an eye peering out to look at the person outside before quickly opening it and ushering them in, immediately closing it again.
“Thank you for coming,” the man greeted gruffly, watching the figure approach the fire in the roaring hearth, making quick work of the knot at their throat and shedding the thick black cloak off their shoulders, revealing a petite womanly form. Her dress underneath the cloak was made of a dark blue silk, plain and unembroidered, the hem of her skirts hanging weighted and damp from the snow on her way over, and her hair was braided at the sides, gathered into a loose bun at the back of her head. Though she had tried to get rid of the snow on her plain brown boots before entering the home, it wasn’t enough, so she tried to shake off as much of it as she could in front of the fire to avoid tracking her wet footprints inside the house. The woman hung her cloak and gloves to dry next to the hearth, turning back to him as she picked up the small bag she had been carrying.
“Doctor Snow.”
Another woman’s hushed voice joined them from the wooden stairs within the home. Wiping her hands on her apron, she reached out a hand toward the newcomer, grasping her hand tightly in greeting. “Thank you so much. Oh, bless you for coming.”
Doctor Snow clasped her hand back, then wasted no time. “The child?” she asked.
Wordlessly, the woman led her down the hall and opened the door to a bedroom, where a young boy lay shivering and pale on the lone bed.
“Doctor Garrick came yesterday,” the woman, clearly the child’s mother, informed her. “He was unable to do anything for him but prescribe a tonic Eddie can’t even take, the poor dear. He’s been so sick, he’s barely managed to keep some broth down yesterday and today. And then the doctor told us that the power of prayer is consistently needed, but there hasn’t been any change in him.”
The doctor frowned, reaching into her bag to pull out an old stethoscope. Her brows furrowed as she moved the scope over the boy’s body, felt around his forehead, neck, and wrist, then exhaled heavily. “He is running high temperatures, but not to worry,” she said. “I hear no traces of congestion in his lungs, and his pulse is steady, however much weaker it is. Wipe him down with a cool cloth to lower his body temperature, then run a bath for him. The water should bring his temperature down. Once he’s awake, have him try the broth once more, and then give him a dollop of this.” She handed the woman a tincture of milky liquid. “But no more than once every four hours. If Eddie isn’t feeling better in two days, have your contact reach out to me again.”
“Oh, bless you, Doctor Snow!” the mother exclaimed gratefully, with tears—and hope—in her eyes as the doctor packed up her kit. “Bless you. We have heard so many things from your scattered clientele, and they all agree it’s a waste of your skills and prestigious doctoral lineage that you don’t have your own practice.”
For the first time that night, the doctor cracked a smile. “It’s 1848. No matter how progressive Central City is, we’ve yet to break from some old values that rule our society. It’s all I can do to help people as best I can.”
The snow seemed to fall harder on her trek back home, but that was a good thing—it would cover her tracks. Pulling her hood up over her head and clasping her hand tighter at the front of the cloak to keep as much of the cold out as possible, she hurried down the darkened street…until her foot caught on something that stuck out from the shadows just in front of her. It didn’t take her long to realize that it was a human leg, and she bit back a scream when the leg’s owner immediately sat up.
“Shhh!!” he hissed, as though anticipating her shock. She barely managed to swallow any sound that would have immediately given them away on the deserted street. “Please. I need your help.”
The doctor’s trained eyes immediately zeroed in on the dark stain in the snow where the man was laying, clutching his side, and her medical training overrode her fear and suspicions. And, if he tried anything, she had a scalpel in her doctor bag.
She dropped to her knees, wincing a little as they met the cold, wet snow, and the man hiked his shirt up so she could see a gash along the side of his torso. Squinting her eyes in the darkness, she breathed out a sigh of relief when she saw that there were no signs of infection, and the wound wasn’t so deep she would need to stitch him together.
“Good news is, you won’t need stitches, sir,” she told him, looking up at his face for the first time only to see his wide, surprised eyes through the mask he had on, deeming him unrecognizable. Not only that, but his mask was very obviously, even in the dark…scarlet. She nearly dropped the vial of alcohol she pulled out to clean his wound. “You! You’re…you’re the Scarlet Vigilante!”
“Shhhh!!” he hissed at her, finger to his lips. “There’s a reason I’m hiding out here! Just in case the…whoever is after me catches up.”
The doctor shifted her eyes up and down the street as her well-practiced hands went through the motions of cleaning, disinfecting, and bandaging as the vigilante in front of her hissed at the sting every so often. “Most people don’t think you actually exist, even though others claimed you’ve helped them,” she said quietly. “How did you end up here tonight?”
He shrugged. “Fighting bad people. I got…careless. The knife got me really good on the side.”
She almost scoffed. “’Really good’? Sir. The wound will not require stitches, and should heal up on its own in a couple of days.” Come to think of it, the amount of blood she could see staining the snow didn’t seem to match up to the size of the gash. By all reasoning, the wound should have been much bigger.
The man muttered something that sounded like, “it won’t need a couple of days, it was just really deep”, but then he was standing up as soon as she packed her bandages away, pulling his bloodied shirt back down. He swept into a gentlemanly bow.
“Thank you, Miss…”
“Doctor,” she corrected him automatically. “I’m Doctor…” she paused, scrutinizing him. Surely, he won’t turn her over to the police for illegal medical practice? She just saved his life!
Seeing her hesitation, he only offered a lopsided smile. “I understand. I can’t even properly see your face under that hood. And I would have been in more trouble if you hadn’t shown up to help. Thank you very much. Normally, I would escort you home, but there is…someone…still at large tonight, and it would do you no good to be caught with me. I’ll make sure to keep them on my trail and off yours.”
He winked at her, and then in a gust of wind, he was gone. She gaped at the space where he was, brain already attempting to calculate the impossible speed with which he moved. It was no wonder he could help so many, and yet, no one had evidence of his existence!
The doctor cleared her throat, gathered her things, and looked up and down the street before continuing forward. On the walk back to her townhome, she couldn’t help but think that though they couldn’t see each other’s faces properly, though he was called the Scarlet Vigilante because of his mask, his eyes were the most striking shade of green, even in the near darkness.
“Caitlin! Another one over here, love!”
Porter & Main was a bustling establishment, even at breakfast on a cold, winter morning. Sunlight reflected brightly off the frost that covered the streets, and patrons were busy eating, drinking, and being merry, their spirits boosted by the lovely barmaids who worked there. Caitlin shot off a grin.
“Coming!” Holding up a tray laden with coffee and drinks in one hand, she expertly maneuvered around the many patrons inside the tavern to get to the man beckoning her, a regular—Joseph West, a detective at the nearby metropolitan police station. She gave him a smile, grabbing one of the coffees on her tray and putting it in front of him. “Here you are!”
“Oh, bless you, Caitlin,” he said with a grin. Joseph West had always been kind every time he showed up at Porter & Main, and always easily pulled her into casual conversations while she was spinning around the room with orders or cleaning behind the counter. “One more today, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all!” she responded cheerfully, unloading another coffee in front of the man next to him. Detective West slung his arm around his companion’s shoulders.
“Have you met our new officer? This is Bartholomew Allen. He specializes in our investigations department.”
The man who looked up at her with a smile had rumpled brown hair that stuck up in a charming sort of way, but she was struck by his eyes and the exact shade of green they were. It was almost unfair for him to look so effortlessly, objectively adorable, but Caitlin was a professional who didn’t swoon, and quickly gathered herself as he extended his hand.
“How do you do?” he asked politely. She gave him another smile and held her free hand out for a handshake, but to her surprise, he lifted it to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of her hand. Stunned, she could feel her cheeks pinking as she saw the detective hide a smile behind his cup of coffee.
“Caitlin!” another voice rang out, calling for her. Caitlin quickly recovered, excusing herself to come face to face with tavern regular and her friend, Cisco Ramon. She reached up to hand him a cup of coffee, but the expression on his face stopped her.
“What is it?” she asked quietly, voice low.
Cisco quickly glanced around to make sure no one was eavesdropping before he whispered, “It’s the Thawnes. Mr. Thawne says Eddie is much better today, but Mrs. Thawne isn’t…it’s an emergency. She isn’t doing well.”
She wracked her brain, eyebrows furrowing. “If Eddie caught a fever that affected him so negatively…he’s a child, children feel the sickness more, but they recover quicker. If Mrs. Thawne caught the same sickness, perhaps her body is reacting to the viral bacteria…well…” she straightened in determination. Cisco wouldn’t be approaching her like this in the middle of her shift and tell her it was an emergency if things weren’t as dire as he said “I’ll tell Mr. Wells I’m leaving early. I’ll just ask Sue to cover the rest of this shift on her own and pay her back later.”
The two parted ways, and Caitlin placed the tray on the bar, hurriedly wiping her hands on her apron as she approached the other barmaid. Rushing into the backroom and nearly ripping her apron off in her haste, she didn’t notice a pair of eyes track her movements across the room.
Though the cold was often a subject of complaint and contention in the otherwise beautiful city, Caitlin was grateful for it as she hurried down the street, her doctor’s bag tucked into the folds of her thick cloak. She only prayed that the cloak hid it well enough, and that she wouldn’t look too suspicious or out of place with it out in the day, people everywhere around her. The hike to the Thawnes’ from Porter & Main could last a good half an hour, depending on foot traffic, but Caitlin cut through a seldom-used alleyway in the interest of time, taking care not to slip on the slick cobblestone. The stones had iced over, as the alleyway was surrounded by the tall buildings preventing the sun from reaching the ground. Most of the area was shadowed, some boxes and bins laying throughout the alley creating a haphazard maze and preventing anyone from having a clear view down to the other end of the way.
The narrow alley also created a rather efficient wind tunnel, causing her to draw tighter into herself and ducking her head down to reduce the harsh winds hitting her face. Caitlin tucked her nose into the neckline of her cloak to keep it from freezing.
Something bumped into her front, causing her to stumble back a little, looking up to see three men she hadn’t noticed in the cold and in her rush when she walked into the alley.
“Why, hello miss,” one of the men said with a smile, looking at her up and down while the other two leered from behind him. Something twisted in Caitlin’s gut, and she mentally cursed herself for letting her guard down, for her meticulousness and organization that meant she knew her scalpel was tucked into the case at the side of her doctor’s bag, out of reach.
“Excuse me,” she murmured, attempting to step to the side to go around them, but one of the men in the blocked her way.
“What’s your hurry?” he asked, tone giving her unpleasant shudders. She whipped around then, intent on making a break for it back in the direction she came from, but the third man leapt over the boxes with ease, landing behind her and preventing her from running.
“You’re a pretty thing,” he said, ducking his head to see hers under her hood. “Why not share with the class how you really look—”
Before he could say another word, Caitlin shoved him to the side and ran full tilt toward the entrance of the alley, but she didn’t get far in her blasted dress when she felt hands grabbing at her cloak, her scream never even having the chance to leave her throat before she was pulled backwards, a large hand over her mouth. Her hood fell off her head, and she could see then, hidden in the shadows and on thin ice, just how much trouble she was in.
“She really is pretty, isn’t she?” the man who held her jeered, causing the other two to chuckle.
Mrs. Thawne was suffering in her home and waiting for a doctor. Caitlin was stuck in an alleyway with three men who clearly meant to do her arm.
Caitlin took a deep breath, then kicked her foot back from under her skirts right into the man’s groin. He howled in pain, letter her go, and then she was off running again, praying that she wouldn’t slip.
“HEY!” the others shouted, their footsteps thundering behind her. She turned sharply, flinging out the arm holding her doctor’s bag so that the bag smacked the man right behind her in the face. His pained groan didn’t stop her, but the arm that shot out to grab her did. The man hauled her back by both her elbows, preventing her from using her bag as a weapon again, but it didn’t stop her from kicking and struggling all the while. He threw her back against the wall, his body immediately caging her in and trapping her as one of his hands covered her mouth, stifling her screams. The sinking feeling in her stomach finally turned completely to dread.
“You’ll pay for that, my dear,” the man holding her gritted out, his lips in a forced smile. He leaned closer, and she squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself, then—
She felt a strange gust of wind, her body suddenly freed without another one keeping her in place. Surprised and panicked gasps sounded, and then the alleyway was eerily silent, but still, she couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes just yet, her heartrate at an alarming speed and shock still crashing through her system. Her limbs stayed locked in place, her mind and body still reeling and panicking at the events of the last few minutes, and when she felt hands on her face, Caitlin let out a strangled yelp, instinctively pressing herself harder into the wall, shirking away from the touch when she registered someone calling her by name, her brain struggling to kick in against her panic.
“-tlin, can you hear me?”
Breathe. Notice your surroundings.
The hard brick wall behind her, digging into her back. The harsh winds through the wind-tunnel-alleyway. The ice crunching underneath her boots, the warm hands on her face and a man’s soft voice speaking to her.
“Caitlin, Caitlin, look at me,” he said, tone gentle. “Are you hurt? Caitlin, can you open your eyes?”
Breathe.
She consciously felt herself loosening each muscle, from her legs up to her torso, her arms, her shoulders slumping as she forced the tension out of her body. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open to see—
Green eyes she had been thinking about since last night, green eyes she could swear she saw earlier this morning, rumpled brown hair that she suddenly and inexplicably and inappropriately wanted to run her fingers through, a scarlet mask—
“Scarlet Vigilante?” she asked in a whisper. He grinned at her, his thumbs brushing back and forth over her cheeks in comforting strokes.
She gulped down several lungfuls of air, her legs threatening to give out on her after the adrenaline passed. “How did you know where I was?”
He shrugged good-naturedly, still tracing slow circles on her cheeks and trying to calm her down. “Maybe we just have a connection and I happened to be passing by.”
Something occurred to her then, causing Caitlin to surge forward, nearly knocking into him with her forehead when she practically threw herself off the wall. He managed to back away just in time to avoid a broken nose. “Wait!” she exclaimed, her doctor’s instincts fully taking over as her brain caught up to her body, processing the situation. “Your injuries from last night! You shouldn’t be running around the city, that wound wasn’t deep into to require stitches, but you should be resting!”
To her consternation, he let out a laugh. “I’m fine,” he reassured her. Lifting the side of his shirt, he showed her the side where he had been gashed just the night before—but there was just smooth, unblemished skin. “See?”
Caitlin’s jaw dropped, her hands reaching toward him to study the lack of evidence of even the smallest wound when she remembered her manners, hands snapping back to her sides as she cleared her throat. “How…how is that possible?” she asked, a million questions racing about her mind. Did it have something to do with his unbelievable speed? How long did it take for the wound to heal on its own? Going off the logic his speed impacted his healing, what was the rate of healing for different types of injuries? What if he had a broken bone and his body healed itself before the bone was properly set, would his body automatically righten the bone and growth, or would his bone grow to be deformed?
He opened his mouth as if to answer, but he ended up letting out a chuckle, a smile twisting his lips as he rubbed the back of his head with his hand. “We should go,” he said instead. “I can give you a lift. Where do you need to go?”
Dumbly, she told him the Thawnes’ address, and his boyish grin returned. “Begging your pardon, miss,” he said before wrapping an arm around her waist. “Brace yourself.”
Caitlin Snow arrived at the Thawnes’ doorstep with her hair windswept and her cheeks burning red.
“I’m home!” she called, putting her doctor’s bag away in the corner of the cabinet near the door and hanging her cloak on one of the hooks. Caitlin tiredly made her way into the kitchen, where her father sat at the table with a half-eaten plate of dinner. She sank into her seat, promising herself she would get up to get her meal in a few minutes—she was just so tired.
After her run-in with the unsavory men in the alleyway and the Scarlet Vigilante’s timely rescue, she stayed at the Thawnes’ for a while to diagnose and stabilize Mrs. Thawne before she headed back to Porter & Main to take over Sue’s shift the rest of the day.
“Long day, was it?” her father asked, looking up from the paper and noticing her haggard expression. Caitlin sighed.
“Eddie Thawne came down with a temperature, but viral in nature. He’s getting better, but his mother caught a more severe case of it,” she replied, pushing herself out of her chair to the stove to reheat her dinner. “She should be fine.”
Her father regarded her for a long moment. “You’re a fine doctor, Caitlin,” he told her. “I’m very proud of you.”
At that, she couldn’t help the smile that blossomed on her face. “You taught me everything I know,” she said.
“You think I don’t know about your lab in the basement?” he scoffed, waving her off. “You’ve done well, Caitlin. I just wish you were able to have your own practice. Get your name out there.”
She’d like that too.
“This should be celebrated,” her father then declared, putting his paper down. “How would you like to come to the Medical Practitioner’s Ball tomorrow night?”
Caitlin’s eyes glittered in excitement. A gathering of the finest doctors, prestigious speakers, lovely food and dancing—her mother usually went with her father, but after her passing the previous year…
She reached over the table, taking his weathered hand in hers. “Of course I’d love to.”
She and her father lived in relative comfort, between his earnings as a doctor and hers as a barmaid, in addition to whatever her patients gave her—she never charged them a fee, but many of them gave her some sort of compensation nonetheless, whether it be money, food, or otherwise—but sights of such extravagance always gave her pause.
The ball was held in the ballroom of the largest hotel in the city, and they spared no expense. The chandeliers above were lit with a multitude of candles, casting warm light all over the room. Large candelabras circled the dance floor in the middle of the room and were spaced out so that each square inch was lit, highlighting the magnificence of the checkerboard marble tiles under their feet and the exquisite décor on the walls and lovely centerpieces at the tables. Large floor-to-ceiling windows were installed all around the room with a view out to the garden, and above it, the clear night sky.
It took Caitlin’s breath away. Not that it was overly difficult to do, in the corset she wore with her otherwise lovely dress—an evening gown of deep scarlet tulle laid atop champagne-colored fabric, smooth under her fingers. Her wide neckline reached from the very edges of her shoulder, swooping down to just above her bosom and back up to her other shoulder. Her hair was pulled into a loose, low bun at the back of her head to accentuate the neckline, which also boasted a champagne-colored trim, the same color thread embroidering delicate designs on her torso and down her skirts. The sleeves of her gown were also made of scarlet tulle, from her shoulders down to just her elbows.
She and her father made it a few steps into the ballroom before she felt him hesitate, knowing he was missing her mother. Caitlin subtly squeezed his arm in a silent show of support, and he turned to smile at her, glowing with pride as he briefly grasped the fingers clutching his arm before letting go.
“Doctor Snow!”
The pair swiveled around to see two people approaching them, the first a complete stranger, and the second…
“Ah, Doctor Allen!” Caitlin let go of her father’s arm as he clasped the other man’s—Doctor Allen’s—hand in a firm handshake. “Thomas, please.”
“I must insist, how long have we been acquaintances? Henry, not Doctor Allen.”
Henry’s kind, smiling face turned to her then, gesturing to the all-too-familiar person next to him, with the same green eyes she had unwittingly thought of all day, his previously rumpled hair styled back into a presentable look. Caitlin thought she remembered the exact shade of green his eyes were when she thought about how she had run into him in the snow two nights prior, and when he had saved her the day before. Now that she was looking at him, properly looking at him, she could see that even a few hours’ time had dulled her memory.
And, if she stopped to think about it, she shouldn’t have been surprised that the young officer Detective West had introduced to her just yesterday morning who had the same mesmerizing eyes and ridiculously windswept hair would turn out to be the same person. It was something in his grin, the same grin he had on his face while he was masked, that gave him away, that same grin he was wearing as he looked at her now.
“This is my son, Barry,” Henry said.
Barry respectfully inclined his head, shaking her father’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”
Thomas smiled, gesturing for her to step forward. “And you, young mister Allen. May I introduce my daughter, Miss Caitlin Snow?”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Allen, Mister Allen,” Caitlin said as she dipped into a curtsy. Barry cleared his throat as the orchestra began a new number.
“Miss Snow, would you care for a dance?” he asked, holding his hand out to her with that grin still on his face. She accepted, and he led her onto the dance floor, right to the middle of the room. Like the day before, he wrapped a firm am around her waist, his hand holding hers as they waltzed. Caitlin tried her best to quell her racing heart—this was by no means her first dance with a man, but she would be damned if she started blushing like a schoolgirl.
“Caitlin Snow,” he said with a slow grin. They were so close that she could feel his breath on her cheek. “Doctor Snow. I should have known.”
She didn’t deign his statement worthy of response. Instead, she quipped, “’Barry’? I thought Detective West said your name was Bartholomew. I’m surprised your first name isn’t actually ‘Scarlet’.”
Barry smothered a laugh, then wrinkled his nose, gently twirling her before pulling her back into his arms. “No one actually calls me Bartholomew.”
Letting out a surprised laugh, Caitlin looked back into those eyes she daydreamed about the past few days. They were closer than what was actually appropriate for a dance, but neither of them made to pull away. He nudged her temple with his nose as he leaned a little to whisper into her ear. “You’re wearing my colors tonight.”
She jerked her head back in surprise, a blush burning her face. “I hadn’t noticed,” she managed to say. And she really hadn’t—whether or not her subconscious did when she picked the dress was another matter.
He chuckled. “You look beautiful.”
Expertly leading them through the steps to the end of the piece, Barry stepped back respectfully when the music ended, once more lifting her hand to his lips and placing a chaste kiss on the back of it. He looked up at her, their eyes meeting for a moment, an unmistakable twinkle of amusement in his.
“Thank you for the dance, Doctor Snow. Please be sure to save another dance for me before the end of the night.”
He escorted her to the edge of the dancefloor, and walked off before she could respond. Instead, however, she felt something in her palm.
It was a note. He had slipped a note into her hand. When could he possibly have had the time to write a note?! Shaking her head with a fond, exasperated smile, Caitlin carefully approached a window at the side of the room for some privacy before opening it.
Dearest Doctor Snow, I find myself in need of your assistance. Come on an adventure with me? Meet me in the garden.
She couldn’t risk going to get her cloak and rousing her father’s suspicions of where she was going, or to provoke any unnecessary gossip about impropriety. That meant when she walked out into the beautiful gardens that were just hidden from view of the glass windows, she was positively freezing, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. Well. He didn’t specify which area of the garden, but Caitlin suspected that as the Scarlet Vigilante, he’d have eyes on her way before she could see him. He’d find her.
And she was right. A gust of wind later, he appeared in front of her, his styled hair now windswept with a wide smile on his face.
“Hello,” he said, as though he couldn’t quite believe she was there.
To be honest, Caitlin had no idea why she did—but she knew that he intrigued her, that he had saved her life just as she had saved his, and the idea of going on an adventure was less daunting when it was with him.
“Hello,” she replied, just as breathlessly, nearly drowning in his lovely green eyes. “What assistance did you need?”
Barry barked out a laugh, pressing another kiss to the back of her hand like a true gentleman. “Maybe I just needed you,” he said cheekily, “to come with me on an adventure.”
She had saved his life. He had saved hers. A feeling in his gut told him it wouldn’t stop there; it would be a constant cycle, and this fierce, brave woman who worked hard during the day and secretly saved people at night, well—Barry never stood a chance.
Fortunately for him, Caitlin didn’t either. They were two stars pulled into each other’s orbit, and the light that was starting to burn between them only pulled them closer.
“What do you say, Doctor Snow?”
A brilliant smile lit up her face, her hazel eyes nearly dancing with excitement and drowning him in her beauty.
“Lead the way, Mister Allen.”