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"I love you, Cait." He says it so softly and yet it still cuts across the distance between them, creating a line held taut with the entirety of her attention captured by it. She holds her breath waiting for what comes next, enraptured by the spell those tender words are casting on her.
"I never allowed myself to think about the possibility before, I couldn't. But now things are different and I know how I really feel, how I've always felt about you, deep down."
Silhouetted in the semi-darkness of the pipeline cell, all she hears is Barry and all her brain sees is Barry too—until Savitar steps forward to reveal his true face. There's that telltale smirk of his and eyes that crease at the corners in scornful disbelief, that say Really? You really fell for that? For all that Barry is a terrible liar, Savitar put on a masterful performance for her.
"That's what you wanted, right? What you’ve wanted him to say for years. Those words just like that but from your Barry. Too bad that's never going to happen. Because he's never really been your Barry, has he? You worship at the altar of your unworthy hero—”
She turns on her heel and flees from whatever else he intends to say. She's heard enough. Even when he raises his voice in frustration at her ignoring him, demanding to be heard through sheer force, his words don't register to her any longer other than as white noise drowned out by the thumping of her racing heart. She can only concentrate on her breathing and taking one rapid step in front of the other, resisting the emotional onslaught that threatens her until she's found sanctuary in the nearest room. It's only then she lets the tears come, taking sucking, ragged breaths as she lets it out.
It's difficult being reminded he once was Barry, but moments like that make it simultaneously easy and horrifying to acknowledge. He knows her so well, so he knows exactly how to hurt her. She wants to believe Barry would never do that, never twist the knife in her wound if he knew how she felt, except Savitar is the proof he would under the right circumstances. It's also hard knowing that Savitar knows how she feels, that maybe Barry does too, in some way, but chooses never to think about it, never to address it. It's probably for the best, but now she's worried; what if Savitar brings it up with the others, makes trouble for her, blows up her life with that secret? Unfortunately, sowing the seeds of dissension seems exactly his style.
She waits months with bated breath for the other shoe to drop. For his spite at her ignoring him to force her hand, for him to lash out, seeking retribution from another angle. But it never happens. His anger simmers for a long time, but it doesn’t come to a boil again. That one trick is the only thing he needed to successfully push her away, she realizes. She watches him push everyone away time and time again, but he does accept their help begrudgingly, at least. Eventually, the fight in him lessens as he becomes weary of saying no over and over to things being easier, being tempted by the possibility of having some semblance of his former life returned to him.
He doesn’t apologize to her when he’s finally freed, and he doesn’t acknowledge her on Team Flash, really, once he starts interacting with them again from time to time, except when it's an absolute necessity, preferring to treat his own occasional injuries and retreating before she has a chance to protest. He accepts the space she has placed between them and, despite her concerns for his health, it feels for the best. But part of her still hopes for better for him, from him, and for their old bond not to be so easily forsaken—somehow she can’t help it.
The next time she mistakes him for Barry, he's buried in rubble from a collapsed building and the pained groans she recognizes as coming from his location slice right through her. She can’t tell it’s Savitar at first, so she feels the same panic she has felt a thousand times before, knowing Barry’s in danger and right now she’s the only one who can help him. As she digs in the rubble she sees a scrap of red poking out, his suit a beacon to her, the incentive to keep digging frantically, not caring that her hands are scratched and caked with dirt, not caring that she chokes more than a little on the dust that’s being thrown up by her efforts.
“I’ve got you,” she says as she feels through a gap to touch a pulse point on his neck. He’s still alive and she lets out a sigh of relief. As she moves more of the rubble with renewed vigor, she hears murmured, feverish-sounding pleas and she knows he’s in a bad way. Likely a head injury to go with whatever crush injuries he can’t heal with the rubble still on top of him.
“Don't leave me,” he says, his voice calling out so desperately it hurts her to hear it, because she never would and she doesn’t know why he would ever think that. Even though she knows it’s not true, that there is a wide multiverse out there, she’s never been able to imagine an Earth where anyone who was truly Caitlin Snow, in the way she knows herself, wouldn’t help one Barry Allen when it came down to it. Her fingers are raw and bleeding and still she keeps going. She doesn’t know where the others on the team are, if they got clear of the building before it fell down, but she’s here and he’s relying on her to save the day, so she’ll do whatever it takes.
As she hefts another hunk of concrete away, she finally spies his head, turned to the side and the cowl half ripped off, the fabric trailing across him, exposing some of his hair. His eyes are closed, he’s covered in dust and unmoving. For a second she holds her breath, waiting to see him breathe. Finally, he coughs and it sounds disturbingly wet, but she reminds herself he’s still with her, it’s not over yet.
“I’ll get you out of here, Barry. I promise.”
That’s when he opens his eyes and turns his face stiffly to look at her, revealing the scars and his white eye on his right side staring up at her. She feels like an idiot then, she should have realized this could be Savitar.
He had been reluctantly playing a decoy Flash in one of Barry’s spare suits as part of their strategy and the meta must've taken the bait as intended. Not that the ruined section of street was in the plan, much like the comms going down wasn't expected, either. She'd had no idea what had happened when she stepped out of the breach keyed to the location. All she’d been able to think of when she heard his groans was of Barry in pain, of the urgency needed to get to him. It's as much of a hero as Savitar's been since they negotiated his release from the pipeline— the first time he's really helped them rather than gone off on half-hearted, questionable solo efforts to police the city— so this is the first time she is faced with helping Savitar, past the tentative olive branch she extended that he burned right down to ashes in front of her without any hesitation.
She thinks, then, of Barry possibly under the rubble too, not knowing if he needs her help just as much as, if not more than, Savitar. But she refocuses quickly, shaking that fear from her mind. Savitar is the one in front of her, her patient, no less in need, no less her responsibility. She wonders if in those seconds of confusion and hesitation he knows she thought of Barry briefly instead.
“Please,” he croaks at her, his eyes unfocused and flitting about her face rapidly, making her wonder if he's searching for an answer as to whether she will help him. “Don't—” he starts, cut off by a wracking cough which makes tears bead at the corners of his eyes from the pain of it. “Don't leave...me...again.”
She reaches down to his cheek, cradling it, meant as a comfort to the only part of him she can currently touch, but what she feels is a tiny spark of connection, surprising her.
“I'm here. I've got you, I promise.” She isn't surprised to find she means it.
Maybe today proves, in a small but meaningful way, there's still a hero inside him despite his protests; just like there will always be a darkness inside her, no matter how much she wants to deny it. They can't deny their natures, only make better choices. Maybe there's hope yet for time healing the wounds that have kept them apart, if Savitar can keep choosing better, can believe better of himself, like she wants to as well.
For the most part, Caitlin misses Frost's birthday party. She lets Frost have the night to herself, only dimly aware of the throbbing music of the party but warmed through by the blatant joy that flushes through their shared body the whole time. Near the end, though, Frost tells Caitlin she ought to cut loose herself and not miss all the fun, before she retreats mentally for her own small break.
The lounge is dark, bathed in blue with clumps of glow sticks providing some color here and there; glancing down she spots a double-band, bright blue and pink glow stick bracelet on her arm. The room runs hot with the bodies and mostly she has no clue who they are, which really isn't her type of party. Not to mention Caitlin feels discomfited by Frost's outfit that's rather far from what she'd choose for herself, with a vest and short-sleeved t-shirt. Still, she can have a good time if she puts her mind to it; all she needs is the right company.
With the help of the bar's backlighting, she can make out Cisco and Iris doing shots on the other side of the room, but it looks likely to be hard to get through to them around the throng of dancers in the middle of the room. She glances around, trying to spot Barry's tall frame standing out above the others, finding him over in the corner not too far away from her.
As she approaches his position, with the start of a relieved anticipatory smile on her face at finding someone she knows, she watches him take a swig from a hip flask before returning to swaying in time with the music. Frost must have broken out some of the stash of alien alcohol Kara had provided a while back, the only kind that had any effect on her and speedsters with their healing abilities. Caitlin is only a few steps away when the song changes to Smooth Criminal, which she knows is a favorite of Barry's, and she sees his whole demeanor change, tensing up as he shifts into the jaunty beginning moves of the dance she's seen him do several times before. This time she swears he's gotten better, his movements more precisely controlled and yet also like he's effortlessly flowing from one movement to the next. Maybe the alcohol is actually helping.
When he swirls around on his heels for the first time, she takes in his scars in those precious few seconds and notices the jacket that is so clearly his usual black denim, now that she sees it briefly from the front with its heavy fabric barely flapping with the motion. Once he stops from the spin, he angles himself to the side, switching from the proper dance to something between his previous swaying and the jagged moves he'd started.
“Looking for someone else?” he asks brusquely, eyeing her lazily with an inscrutable, sidelong expression.
“I...just, anyone. Anyone I know,” she admits weakly, wondering if he can even hear her over the music.
His face doesn't change at that, only half-watching from his position, giving off the impression he doesn't care, perhaps mild interest shown by having turned vaguely towards her but not making an effort. But she feels like his silence, the way he doesn't turn away from her after she speaks, might mean he's waiting for her to elaborate, to give some further answer or explanation. Is he waiting to find out if he counts as that, as someone she knows, someone she wants to be around? After a few long moments he turns away again, ignoring her, and she feels like she's misstepped even though she didn't leave him or say anything wrong. She might not have been looking for him but this is an opportunity she doesn't want to pass them by; she's not content to leave it there.
Before she can really register what she's doing, she closes the distance and taps him on the shoulder to get his attention again. “Teach me?” she asks, with an apologetic tilt of her head and a small shoulder shrug on one side. She feels foolish as the words leave her mouth, but it's too late. If Frost were paying attention she'd be scoffing at Caitlin turning fun into learning, making it some kind of work instead of the straight-up play she'd practically ordered her to do. But Caitlin needs something that gives her a chance to be in control amongst this chaotic atmosphere where she feels so out of her element; getting a dance right would satisfy that need and give her a purpose, however weird it feels for her to turn to Savitar for that.
He eyes her up and down again over his shoulder, one eyebrow rising subtly, betraying his curiosity. When he turns back to fully face her, all he says is, “Watch me.” So she does, trying to copy what she can.
He's good at it. He looks in his element with the way he moves, sharp and calculated—the dance requires a fair amount of floorspace, but no one questions his right to it, people move out of the way for him. Every now and then he flicks up his gaze, eyes intense as he performs the titular role of the song with everything he's got. She feels a flare of discomfort initially, when seeing that reminds her of another performance of his, making her falter in her attempts to mimic his moves. He doesn't fail to notice, but he says nothing, doesn't ask why and she recovers, pushes past it. If he's so good at putting on a mask, she wonders how she'll ever know what the true Savitar is like, when will she know she's really seeing him? She already knows how painfully good he is at pushing people away when he thinks it's necessary, but, gratefully, he isn't this time, the one time where she needs him, albeit in a small way.
There's a few hand moves he keeps doing that confuse her, finding it hard enough to keep up with the coordination of the rest of the dance. She almost laughs out loud when she realizes what they are from seeing them another couple of times. She'd never noticed them clearly enough to figure it out when Barry had done this, his moves much less precise than Savitar's, as Barry purely enjoyed the dance with much less perfectionism. This time she can tell he is, with all seriousness, tipping his non-existent hat. She can't help but smile, unreasonably thrilled to find out Savitar has that dorky streak in him too.
“What are you smiling at?” he asks as he leans in to talk to her, slightly out of breath and brows furrowing a bit. The sudden proximity to him, causing a waft of the mostly familiar scent he gives off, makes her heart flutter before she recovers from the shock. She pushes down the rebellious sensations of her body and refocuses on making sense of his words instead. Does he really think it's that odd that she might enjoy herself in his company?
“I think I'm getting the hang of it,” she replies loudly, letting her lips spread into a full-on grin, and is gratified to see the hint of a smile raising the corners of his mouth in return. Still, she uses a spin to put some distance between them, keen to step them back to whatever they were before that unexpected flash of feeling overcame her. She overdoes the spin, though, and Savitar's hand shoots out to catch her, his grip firm and hot on her bare arm in Frost's getup. They stand like that for a moment too long not to be weird. Eventually, Savitar lets go, his gaze sliding off the point of contact they'd shared but not meeting her eyes. He immediately slinks off without a goodbye, leaving Caitlin alone there in the crowd, where she feels strangely unsteady on her feet despite being at rest. Her heart is hammering in her chest as the song ends, which she blames on dancing and too many surprises for one night.
She reaches out in her mind, almost begging Frost to come back, to take over again already. It's not her night anyway.
His laugh rings out loud and clear from the Cortex and when she enters she doesn't actually look at Barry and Cisco. She's dimly aware they're huddled around the desk examining a collection of figurines, muttering excitedly about something far geekier than she can handle without her morning dose of caffeine. She loves them both dearly, but she doesn't share the same enthusiasm for that kind of paraphernalia, preferring more practical keepsakes.
She settles into her chair and sips her coffee in stops and starts as she scans over her emails on her laptop. It's not long before Cisco raises his voice exuberantly, making a bet with Barry about something, and she winces a touch at his volume. Though it doesn't seem unfriendly, there's something a bit off to her about the way Cisco challenges Barry, like he's goading him almost. She can't shake the feeling it's a little more competitive than she can recall them being and she's not sure why that matters, really, it just pulls on a thread in her brain, making her curious. She puts it down to an odd mood of Cisco's, possibly having gotten up on the wrong side of the bed this morning and his irritability coming through in his intonation. So she tries not to think much more of it, barely registering Barry's slightly wavering “You're on” as he eagerly speeds out of there a touch too soon.
It's when he comes back that she does a mental double take. The voice proclaiming victory isn't as loud as Cisco's, but it stands out all the more for the unmistakable tone and gravelly quality when he lords it over him. Savitar. She stands up too quickly and almost spills her remaining drink all over herself, cursing her clumsiness. Popping out of her office for an unobstructed view, she finds herself stunned at the sight that greets her.
Savitar stands there half-turned towards her, wearing dark blue jeans, a dark grey t-shirt, and a navy button down shirt. The shirt isn't open like Barry often wears those, instead buttoned up to below his collarbone and tighter around the body because of that, showing off a little of his toned physique. The overall effect is different than what Barry would choose, but it's not a world away, close enough that from behind she could understand how she'd mistaken them. And he's also standing among a sea of cardboard cutouts of assorted Pokemon characters, a triumphant and genuine grin on his face at his success while Cisco glares grumpily at the stopwatch in his hand.
“Did you just…?” She can't finish the question, opting for waving her hand around at the fruits of his labor. This scenario is so bizarre to see him in, so unlike the Savitar they'd so far been witness to. Not so godlike now. Certainly something else; evidently, she doesn't know him as well as she thinks. There's definitely more Barry left in him than he'd previously admitted to or she'd suspected anytime lately, and finally he's not so afraid to reclaim a little of it.
“I...that's...a new look for you,” she eventually gets out, but she curses that her brain is stuck on the change a stupid amount, eyes still taking in the new details, and embarrassed at stumbling over her words in front of him. She sees the quirk of his brow in response, her behavior having caught his attention. Oh, no. No! He's going to take it the wrong way, she's sure. When really it's just surprise on her part, being caught off guard. Expecting one person and finding another would make anyone act like this, she rationalizes.
“Like it?” he asks, pinning her with an ardent gaze as he waits for her judgment.
“If you like it,” she answers noncommittally.
She catches Cisco rolling his eyes in the background and she flushes at having an audience for her awkwardness. She retreats to the break room to get more coffee, ignoring the feeling of Savitar's stare following her, his victory suddenly a distant concern.
Later, she thinks about his laugh, the laugh she'd been so certain was Barry's. She doesn't think she's ever heard a laugh from him that wasn't bitter or colored by his mocking or gloating at being right. That carefree laugh and the real grin after his win both feel like progress. It's like a warm front chasing out the numbness that had so long frozen him. As if this is the coming of spring after a winter, with the fresh start he needed finally coming true now he’s not hiding under the cover of darkness.
Caitlin stretches out lazily as she gets up on Christmas morning, taking her time. It's just her right now, with Frost quiet and likely still asleep in her mind, which isn't so unusual with how early Caitlin likes to get up for her routine, the holidays being no exception. She turns the coffee maker on, unable to break that habit even though it's not a work day, but she decides she'll have a mocha as a treat, opening up the cupboard to get out some cinnamon to top it with, for a little festive cheer.
Once she has her coffee in hand, she walks through to the lounge to get her tablet and is a touch surprised to see there's a new present by the tree. At her age, she hardly expects a delivery from Santa but she has to admit seeing a gift appear like that makes her feel nostalgic for having someone else take care of her in some way. When she picks it up and sees the envelope attached to the gift with simply Cait written on it, she's not surprised to see the person who snuck it in was Barry— she'd recognize his scrawl anywhere.
Carefully, she opens the envelope and finds a small understated card with an embossed foil design, flourishing lines making up a golden tree outline, surrounded by swirls of silver snow patterns. Inside it reads:
Happy Holidays, Cait
Don't forget to relax, take your own advice
“No working on Christmas—emergencies only!”
Have a great day, I wish all the best for you
Underneath his scrawl, nearer to the right-hand bottom corner, there's an odd smudge that might've been his initial. That's not his usual way of signing off but there wasn't much space left and Barry clearly had closed the card too fast before the ink dried like she's seen him do countless times before.
Hunger gnaws at her stomach and she should get something to eat, but she's too excited to see what this unexpected extra gift is. They'd already had an office Secret Santa a few days previously, just for no-pressure, cheap novelty gifts. Everyone had agreed no other gifts were necessary, especially since all of them made enough money these days to buy anything they needed—it was always hard to find things people didn't know they wanted and even more so when their lives were often so unpredictably busy. Not needing to go Christmas shopping was one easy load taken off of them.
She peels back the wrapping paper to find a large book, opening it up to discover it's some kind of scrapbook. One that appears to record every achievement of hers since she'd graduated. There's a compilation of her published paper titles, each page dedicated to one or two papers with accompanying scraps printed out of somehow scrounged up commentary about them—comments from lay people inspired and awed by the research, as well as from other researchers talking about the concepts with interest. There's sometimes branching networks of lines showing what her research had led to, the follow-up studies proving her hypothesis true, showcasing later breakthroughs and technology related to it or the people helped by it. Helped not as Frost, who's the hero at the forefront now, but as Dr. Caitlin Snow. She feels a lump in her throat as she flicks through those pages, but that isn't where the book ends.
There's a picture of Frankie Kane on top of a heart-felt thank you letter from her, describing how she felt less alone after Caitlin took the time to share her and Frost's struggles in the last few years. On the next page, there's what seems like an out of place clipping of a heroic Frost from the local newspaper, but what's center stage on that page is a pale blue sticky note in Frost's handwriting, I couldn't do it without you, Caitie. She's starting to think Frost not being awake isn't a coincidence, that she's been given her morning to discover this present by herself, to have her own uninterrupted session of Caitlin Snow appreciation.
After those, there's a more tongue-in-cheek tally of how many broken bones she has set and the many times and ways she's saved each of the team members. Then the book changes into more of a photo album, showcasing a cascade of pictures across many pages; she is smiling in every one, always surrounded by friends. So many of Barry, Cisco, Iris, Joe. Her eyes well up at the sight of one with Martin and Ronnie on either side of her. Harry and Jesse and Wally. The Legends. Kara. Ralph and Sue. She knows she's made a lot of friends over the years in this superhero life she stumbled into, but seeing the proof, seeing the plethora of photos exuding friendship so clearly, warms her heart and really cements her sense of finally belonging somewhere.
Those were the things she'd feared she wouldn't have when she was younger: that she was too cold, too clinical, too abrupt to make friends, to fit in anywhere—destined to be only useful and tolerated. Those fears had reignited after the particle accelerator explosion ruined her life and took so many people from her, as if she was almost back to square one. She'd once expressed those fears to Barry in a vulnerable moment when they were getting to know each other and it seems he remembered, though she isn't sure what has brought on the need to show her so strongly that she was wrong, to go so far as to do this. She feels a little left out at times with Frost called on so much more these days, but nothing she thought anyone would notice, nothing that matters all that much in the grand scheme of things.
She flips through more of the book and finds a page entitled Facts you've taught me about plants listing fifteen things, two of which are actually wrong so he can't have been paying one hundred percent attention to what she'd rambled on about often enough, making her roll her eyes.
That's followed by Caitlin Snow's recipe for a good day:
- morning coffee with oat milk vital
- have a clean lab (cleaning it thoroughly is only a bonus)
- a mid-morning Jitters break with a bear claw
- no crises and strictly no reckless heroing
- Frost keeping to her credit card spending limit
- a sandwich from Mario's for lunch
- having a paper published
- everyone giving lab samples the first time they're asked
- leaving work exactly when wanted, which may or may not include optional overtime
- takeout from Mai Thai with the team
The list tails off, with a mysterious line at the bottom
- ____?
She feels a twinge of something uncomfortable at seeing the blank there, at the question of what might be missing from her perfect day. She sits staring at the line for a couple of minutes, wrapping her fingers around her mug, chasing the remaining warmth of it, as she finishes off her all but forgotten drink. The whole book otherwise feels so typical of him, to go to so much effort to let someone he cares about know they matter when they've been feeling a bit down. To notice the need, however weak it was in her mind, when she thought no one else would see that. However, she's not sure what the point of that line is, why Barry would add that in. It unsettles her and she doesn't want to examine her feelings on it, so she turns the page instead, to find one more handwritten surprise.
I hope this makes you feel seen like you make me feel seen every day
~S~
Her stomach lurches at reading that one simple initial flanked by the rather unnecessary tildes. It seems very much Savitar's style, but she's never had anything approaching a letter—let alone a gift—from him before, so she's never seen it written like that. She hadn't known what that smudge on the card before could have possibly been other than a misshapen B, but now it's obvious and everything feels like it's gone sideways.
Who better to recognize her feeling overshadowed by Frost than Savitar, who knows that feeling intimately. She suspected he provided an outlet to Frost's own similar feelings once upon a time, only now the tables are turned. For a while now, she's known that he cares a lot more for people than he's willing to admit publicly, and yet this private showing of exactly how much he can care still catches her off guard, making something in her heart ache. Before she knows it, hot tears are sliding down her face and she barely manages to save the book from them, snapping it shut in a hurry. Caitlin doesn't know how to feel about it then, only that it's too much emotion hitting her all at once.
The low lighting in the pipeline makes Caitlin feel uneasy when combined with not understanding why Savitar wants to meet here. That discomfort only ratchets up when she sees him step out of the shadows; when he says those same words in the same way she wishes she didn't remember.
“I love you, Cait,” he tells her soulfully.
Suddenly, she can't stand to look at him—she chokes out an “I can't,” trying to flee from the nightmare on repeat. But unlike before, he's not in a cell and he doesn't let her leave without having a chance to say more. The moment he comes into contact with her she stops stock-still, cursing herself that she's unable to give up that cherished rarity of his touch she's yearned for on lonely nights. He stands so close now, a hand gently encircling her wrist, holding her in his orbit and she turns to look at him aghast, tears brimming in her eyes already.
“Don't,” she pleads. She looks at him properly then and sees this time there is no smirk, but instead a sorrowful expression, as if it pains him as much as her. That fact doesn't stop it hurting any less and it certainly doesn't do anything to calm her frazzled nerves, to stave off the desire to run away from all her feelings that she so commonly associates with him. He's never scared her since she knew of her powers, but what feeling he's capable of stirring up in her, good or bad, does.
“I'm sorry,” he says with a desperate note to it. His hand tightens a little on her wrist, though it's still only a loose grip that would be easy to shake off, and his fingers stroke across her skin for a second as he adjusts them. The shift in his hold causes a tingle where his skin slid across hers, making her gape slightly, involuntarily, something deep within her relishing it entirely too much for what little it was.
“I was cruel before. I was…I was jealous,” he admits, turning his head away from her, ashamed. “Barry had Iris. Joe. Cisco. And he even had you, unwaveringly devoted to him, without really knowing it.”
She doesn't know what to say, so she lets him continue—lets him dig, not knowing if he's digging himself out of this mess or digging the hole deeper still. He glances up again, squinting slightly, his eyes tighter, more pained. Good, she thinks for a second and then hates that she had the thought. Neither of them want to hurt the other, not anymore, but her gut reaction right now—her body and mind still on high alert—is to lash out defensively. Ironically, something more akin to how he used to be.
“Part of me wanted to know if that could...extend to me. But I couldn't let myself believe it. Or want it. The thought of being rejected again was...it was easier if it wasn't an option, no hope. But things are different now.” His hand curls around her wrist further and he very deliberately strokes his thumb across her skin, making her gasp and close her eyes. “This time I'm saying it, this time…I mean it.”
She only opens her eyes again when she feels him let go, looking for the reason for the loss of contact. It's only brief because then he is stepping closer, bringing his hand up to her cheek hesitantly like he expects her to reject him.
He looks different to how she imagined Barry would look if they had this moment. For Savitar, there is anguish in his eyes, doubt in his voice, stripped of his usual self-assurance. He looks regretful and she doesn't know if he regrets the circumstances he says it under or the reality of loving her.
“Never, ever pretend to be Barry again,” she tells him forcefully, searching his eyes for the truth.
“I swear,” he replies quietly, solemnly staring into her eyes, waiting for something more, for some kind of permission given. Hovering at the edge of her personal space, he's making her want to pull him closer but she resists for a little longer.
“I don't want an imitation. A fantasy,” she says, still staring into his eyes. “I want you.”
Neither of them want to be a second choice, but somehow, she doesn't feel like she is that here for him. Because this isn't Barry staring hungrily at her. Savitar is unexpectedly hers in a way Barry was never destined to be. Which is why, unlike with Barry in the past, Caitlin steps forward and brings her lips to his. In the depths of S.T.A.R. Labs, she kisses Savitar, intent on making very distinct memories together that she will never, ever mistake as hers and Barry's.