Chapter Text
It's been two weeks since Barry went missing after his faceoff with the Reverse Flash and the team has been a wreck without him.
Cisco blames himself for not warning them fast enough, for not being able to do anything as the Reverse Flash beat Dr. Wells into a bloody pulp and killed the task force and disappearing in blinding lightning as he and Barry raced away into the night.
Dr. Wells has been in a restless search for Barry with no leads to where he could have gone.
And Caitlin has been tireless trying to keep those two together, forcing them to pull themselves from their relentless research.
And then, with Cisco and Dr. Wells so distracted, Caitlin is ambushed and kidnaped by Captain Cold and Heatwave.
Without Barry, they're on their own trying to track down Caitlin and are left helplessly watching when Snart announces his motive — to lure the Flash to Porter and Main tonight at sundown or else he will kill Caitlin.
But the Flash is missing. And no matter how much Caitlin tries to convince Snart and Rory that he won't be coming for her, they still wait.
Across the city, Caitlin sits hidden in a warehouse, bound and gagged, overly aware of the explosives beneath her ready to be tripped off by whoever enters through the door.
The door begins to creak open and she holds her breath, trembling in her chair, and sighs with relief at the sight of the familiar red clad hero standing at the entrance.
He avoids the wire with ease and with shaky yet gentle hands, brings down the fabric in trapping her mouth. He grins softly at her and she can't help but mirror the expression. His smile falls slowly, his eyes glassy and distant. "The fires were high temperature accelerant fires because the fires were… yellow."
"What?" she whispers, confused. "Was there a fire? Is that where you've been?"
Barry looks to Caitlin, eyes clearing ever so slightly with recognition. "I just noticed you don't smile too much."
"Barry, I don't understand."
Without another word, Barry unravels the rope securing her to the chair and scoops Caitlin up in his arms, bringing them both to STAR Labs in just a blink.
He sets her carefully down.
"Barry, where have you been?" Caitlin asks.
He sways where he stands. "My chest feels like that one time I had a cigarette. Yeah, teen me lived for danger." And with that, he collapses onto the ground before Caitlin can catch him.
At the sound of the commotion, frantic footsteps run to the cortext, followed by the mechanic whir of Dr. Wells's wheelchair. When Caitlin turns to her mentor, he's staring at Barry with complete shock, emotions flickering over his face rapidly at the sight of the other man.
"You're alive," Dr. Wells says, disbelief filling his stunned words.
"Caitlin!" Cisco breathes with relief, running to hug her, before stopping at the sight of Barry on the ground. "Barry. Was he with—"
"No. He just showed up, talking nonsense before he ran me here." Caitlin continues to check his vitals with nervous hands. "His pulse is rapid, more rapid than usual." When she rolls his sleeve up, she stills at the way the fabric is loose around his cadaverous figure. It's only then she notices how much weight he's lost. "I need to get him hooked up to some fluids."
Cisco helps her carry him to the medbay, his figure too light and easy to carry. Caitlin goes to put in the IV but Barry's eyes shoot open, gripping her wrist tightly.
"Barry, it's just an IV."
"No more needles, feel it, beeline, benign." His grips his head with a wince. "Don't you feel it? Feeding, peeling, free me, pleading." He shakes his head and looks gravely at her. "When you've been gone six months, the world is a minefield of spoilers."
"Six months?" Cisco says. "Barry, it's been two weeks."
He laughs bitterly. "Too long, not song, too wrong, not strong." He shakes his head again, pulling his arms close to him, hugging his middle and hiding his elbows from Caitlin.
Caitlin turns to Cisco, lost and concerned.
They step out, the three still able to see him through the glass as he rocks himself back and forth, muttering to himself.
"What's wrong with him?" Cisco asks.
"He could be suffering from a form of schizophasia," Caitlin says. "assigning the wrong definition to words."
"But you don't think that's it," Dr. Wells says.
"No," Caitlin says. "Barry… he said six months. What if… what if he was somewhere where time works differently."
"What, like a pocket dimension?" Cisco asks.
"I— I don't know. Sorry that I'm not exactly running on all cylinders. I was just rescued from being kidnapped," Caitlin snaps. She lets out a long tired breath. "I'm sorry."
"No, we're sorry," Dr. Wells says. "We were so pre-occupied by Mr. Allen's return that we haven't even checked on you. Please, get home and get some rest. Cisco and I can handle things here."
"No," she insists. "Respectfully, I am the most qualified one here to investigate what is going on with Barry and if this is a time sensitive issue, as the brain can be, then I need to catch it before it's too late."
"If you're certain," Dr. Wells says.
"I am," Caitlin says. "Just… just give me one minute."
"Of course," Cisco says. "They didn't hurt you, did they?"
"I'm just a little roughed up. Nothing a bubble bath and an Advil won't fix." She attempts a smile but it's thin. They let her sit for a long moment, recomposing herself, before she finally meets their eyes again. "Okay. So, what do we know?"
"He's sometimes saying full phrases," Cisco says, "though their relevance in response to whatever was said has vague connection at best. And then there's…"
"The rhyming," Caitlin finishes.
"Which I don't understand," Cisco says. "But I think that whatever he's saying has to mean something."
"From here on out, we will have real-time transcription of everything Barry says," Dr. Wells says. "Cisco, do you still have the algorithm you had been working on before the particle accelerator explosion?"
"It should be in a folder somewhere," Cisco says. "I'll find it."
"As for his health, I think he will be combatitive around any attempts to prod him with needles," Dr. Wells says. "Which means we're going to have to find a way to get some sustenance in him without causing refeeding syndrome."
"I'll put together a meal plan for him ASAP," she says, "and for now, see if he can stomach some fluids the old fashioned way."
"We need to determine if there's any pattern to what he's saying and if he's sustained any other injuries or ailments."
Caitlin returns to the other room where Barry has tired himself back to sleep. She rolls up his sleeve again and gasps at the sight. Deep puncture wounds litter his arm at the crook of his elbow, dotting his forearm, and marking the back of his hand, as though he had long term intravenous access in every possible entry point. His other arm shows the same marks and starts to paint a sick picture.
"Hey, Cait."
Caitlin's head snaps up at the sound of her name. Barry's face is serious, eyes dark as he meets hers.
"I know how hard this is going to be for you, but we have to stop him."
Caitlin reels back, brows furrowed in confusion. "Who, Barry?"
And then he lightens, chuckling in such a carefree way you'd never imagine the steel in his eyes from before. "Hey, thanks for helping. With Cicada's trail running cold, at least we have an extra day to prepare for our first Thanksgiving at the loft."
And there he goes, drifting, eyes darting and rocking again, hugging himself tightly to hide his arms from her again.
"Do you think you can drink some water, Barry?" She hands him a plastic cup of water with a straw.
"I'm not much of a singer," he says with a lopsided grin, "and you're not much of a drinker."
"I'm not drinking, you are," she urges softly.
He does take the straw and savors the taste and feel of the water, eyes slipping closed as he sips slowly. He hugs the cup to his chest when he's done with it.
"Would you like some more?" Caitlin asks, voice gentle as though she's talking to a spooked animal.
"More, gore, war, no more." He hesitantly holds out the cup. "You have nothing to worry about, Cait. Unless you're secretly moonlighting as an opthalmologist."
Caitlin refills his water in silence, eyes darting over him trying to find any sign of what could have caused this.
"Stealing, feeling, peeling, kneeling, stolen, golden, goal, go." He shakes his head and keeps drinking his water until it's empty and his eyes are blinking slowly.
"Go back to sleep, Barry. It's alright."
"Caitlin, I'll be fine, alright?"
And for a moment, it's almost like he's actually there, but the tone is all wrong, like he's furstrated with her, upset even, but the way he melts into the cot, comfortable and exhausted, she knows that whoever those words were for, they weren't for her right now.
"Where did you go, Barry?" Caitlin whispers. "Who did this to you?"