[ It's been three months since the explosion at S.T.A.R. Labs. To be precise, it's been twelve weeks and four days since that night. And it's only been recently that Caitlin's left the labs on a regular basis.
She's had her excuses: assisting however she could with the investigation, committing some items into permanent storage, watching over her one and only patient. But the book has been closed, the storage locked, and Barry Allen has stabilized enough that a skilled nurse is able to take over the night shift. Still, she doesn't leave until late, and she avoids going directly home. Her new apartment is buried under moving boxes, half of them torn open but none of them unpacked. Cait's purged as much of Ronnie's things as she could bear, but even her own things remind her of the fiance she lost. The dress she wore on their third date. The blouse he spilled half a bottle of red wine on. She should have more stressing memories at S.T.A.R. Labs instead of the new place, but it's never about the location.
So instead, she runs errands, thankful that Central City has so many all-night and 24-hour businesses, so she can use it as an excuse. There's no parking on the street proper, every space filled by someone at one of the bars further down, so she has to park on one of the darkened side streets. She's out of her car, three and four steps down when something, solid and metallic, hits her square between the shoulders. It sends her sprawling, hands going out to catch her fall, even if she knows that's the best way to break an arm, and her palms drag along the pavement. She'd scream if there was any air left in her lungs. A voice behind her demands her purse and her keys, both of which she's quick to hand over, nearly dropping them from her shaking, bleeding hands. She expects the sound of retreating steps, of the engine of her Mini flaring to life and the squeal of tires, but instead comes another demand: her engagement ring. ]
No, please. [ She's protesting between coughs, between stumbling over her words. ] Please, I can't--
[Eddie's been in Central City for a few months now, but he still feels like he hasn't found his footing just yet, his place. It's not like he isn't a friendly guy or doesn't know how to meet people, but he's never really found it easy, and it's never been simple to figure out what niche he fits into, what group of people he belongs with.
He's on the way home from dim sum after yet another date cancelled on him, feeling bummed and more than a little bit lonely, when he hears it. The distinct sound of an impact, something heavy and metal against someone's body, and he's immediately on guard. Body language shifting from casual and unself-conscious to something more predatory, on guard, he unstraps his gun, and pushes the bottom of his leather jacket behind it for easier draw and to show off the police badge strapped to his belt. Hand hovering above it, he moves cautiously down the alley in the shadows, and when he hears a woman's voice, soft and shaky and pleading, saying she can't, he doesn't hesitate to draw his gun, tucks a flashlight alongside the barrel and flicks it on to startle the guy while he holds the gun on him.]
Hey. Central City Police. Drop your weapon and leave her alone.
[It's a split second thing, the guy freezes under the light and then bolts off down the other side of the alley. Eddie has his gun away in a second and he's dialing on his cell phone, calling it in - 'dispatch, it's Detective Eddie Thawne, we have a mugger fleeing along...' and 'medical assistance required at...' - a few moments later, sirens start going off a few streets down, and Eddie's making his way over to the girl, crouching beside her and trying to catch her eyes.]
[ She's expecting something terrible, for the guy to swing that whatever he hit her with down, on her back again or the back of her head, to leave her bleeding and unconscious here while he took what he wanted. And it would be her fault, of course, because of stubborn sentimentality over something she should have put away weeks ago. She's loathe to go without it, without that familiar weight around her finger. Her hand feels odd without it, which is ridiculous; she lived her whole life without anything there, but now she's willing to risk death or traumatic brain injury over it?
Caitlin's blinded as the flashlight washes the alley in cool blue clarity. (She makes the mistake of looking directly into the bulb, and she's blinking bright white spots.) It's a distraction, a reminder that they aren't alone, there is a chance someone can help. And help it does; she hears the retreating clatter of running, the thief leaving with her purse and her keys but not her ring or her life, thank god.
As her savior makes that call (she picks up bits and pieces of his side of the conversation), she's shifting on the ground. She hadn't moved, really, after falling, in fear of provoking the mugger and him thinking she was about to fight back with more than just her trembling, frightened words. Sitting back on her heels, she's finally able to take a full breath, and even if it comes as something of a sob, she'll take it.
She nods, the movement making her neck ache, pain radiating from what promises to be an exceptional bruise down into her extremities. ] I'm fine. Thank you.
[ It's the worst I'm fine in history, as she's flinching from pain and absentmindedly wiping her bleeding hands on her pants. ]
[Now that the mugger's been dealt with, Eddie has time to actually focus on the victim. She's a pretty girl with long dark hair, who already looks to be trying to stumble back to her feet, acting as if she's fine as she sits on her heels looking like a newborn deer.
There's no way she's fine, and when she tries to say she is, it's just more obvious that she's really not. Reaching out, he gently touches her shoulder, fingers gentle as his eyes skim up and down her. He's checking for obvious injuries, bleeding, and then his eyes settle on her face - she looks disoriented and in pain, her hands are bloody and she's wiping them on her pants.]
Hey, hey. You're bleeding, and you just got mugged. It's totally fine if you're not okay, alright? No need to stand up yet.
[His voice is pitched soft, a little gentle, and he slides his hand gently from her shoulder along her upper back, steadying her.]
[ Caitlin's trying to remember how to make her legs work, how to stand up, how to stop everything from shaking. Her hands are wet and stinging, and she can't quite connect why and it's frustrates her, leading her to dragging her hands on her legs more and faster.
Her vision goes blurry, and she can't figure that out either until she blinks a couple times; her sight clears momentarily, then goes blurry again. She's crying (a reaction to the adrenaline flooding her system, something in her rational brain says), a slow trickle of tears rolling down her face, dripping onto her shirt collar.
She wants to smile at the man being kind to her, kinder than she would ever expect from anyone anymore, but she can't. Her mouth won't cooperate, the corners of her lips pulling down instead of going up. When his hand touches her shoulder, it hurts, but she doesn't complain; she just tightens her jaw.
But when it moves, when his hand slides over and settles right where she was hit, even the light, gentle pressure is too much. It's a reflex, moving away from the pain, flinching hard enough that her body jerks forward, eyes shut tight. ]
Sorry. [ Apologizing first, he didn't know, he didn't mean to, and she reacted so badly. ] He h-hit me on my back.
[When she looks up at him, face wet with tears and obviously trying to smile, still trying to move and stand up, Eddie feels a hot rush of compassion for her.]
It's okay...just take it easy...
[His voice is pitched gentle, he's still trying to reassure her, even though he's starting to think that she's the type who's used to taking care of herself, even if it's hard for her to do it. Even if it doesn't come naturally. He's a little surprised that something in him wants to reach out and take care of her, to take some of the weight off.
So when he moves his hand and she flinches away, Eddie jumps, and immediately moves his hand, a wash of guilt going over him, his face flushing.]
Oh my god, I am so sorry. I should have asked before touching you, I just...
[Trailing off, he exhales slightly, eyes on her face.]
[ The words come a little too fast to be genuine, chipped short from pain. The sudden movement hasn't helped any; as she settles still again, she can feel the pain radiating down her back, into her hips, and up into her neck, cradling the back of her head in fire.
The pain strips away the gauze of fear clouding her brain, redraws everything in sharp clarity again. When Caitlin opens her eyes again and looks at him, it's the first time she's done so with any real focus, any real awareness. Her hands go still on her legs, the realization that they're cut and bleeding coming clear. ]
It's probably just bruising? But I don't think there's any damage to the spinal cord. [ The spinal cord, not her spinal cord. If she can keep it objective, keep a professional distance in her self-assessment, maybe she can keep her urge to panic down. ] There's— [ She pauses to hold up her palms for a better look. Moving her arms makes her grit her teeth, makes the pain between her shoulders throb. ] —a few abrasions. They'll need to be cleaned, especially after the mess I've made.
[The assessment is a little surprising, it sounds clinical. Eddie's got first aid and he knows most of what she's saying, but the way she says it is something else.]
Are you a doctor?
[His voice is pitched gentle, his eyes are on her face. Maybe talking about something else will help to distract her until the medical attention arrives. After a moment, he extends his hands, palm up.]
[ Caitlin hesitates, almost saying that she doesn't want to bleed on him, that she doesn't want to ruin his clothes if she does like she's ruined her own. She can't even rationalize an excuse of trying to keep the wounds sterile because his hands are probably a lot cleaner than her pants are after she's been on the ground.
But after a second or two, she nods, and stretches her arms so she can rest the backs of her hands in his palms. His hands are warm, and it's then that she realizes how chilly the night is. The adrenaline in her system has to be wearing down, her fear subsiding as the cold and the pain become more noticeable. ]
I am. [ A beat. ] A doctor, I mean. I work over at STAR Labs.
[ Her confession of that is sheepish. It's like saying she worked on a tanker that was responsible for spilling thousands of gallons of oil. The explosion could have done much more damage to the city, but there was certainly enough done. ]
[Clothes getting ruined is honestly the last thing on Eddie's mind in the moment. He's more concerned about her, and even if there's not much he can do for her right now, without a first aid kit or any supplies, he can distract her by at least looking at her injuries. He can hear the ambulance siren in the background, and it's a relief, it's hard to tell in the dark how wounded she is, how injured she might be. She's obviously disoriented, and that's concerning, even if it could be explained away by adrenaline and emotional disturbance.
Gently, he takes her hands, lifts them a little so he can look at them in the light from the street lamp by the mouth of the alley. Wincing a little, he looks back at her, his eyes meeting hers as she explains she works at STAR Labs. For a moment, he goes still, brows raising - he'd heard about it, only a couple of weeks after he'd moved to Central City. A tragic accident, but an accident nonetheless.]
I didn't realize there were still people working at STAR Labs, honestly. Do you have anyone I could call? To come pick you up once the paramedics look at you?
[ His reaction is not the first she's seen like that to the news that people still worked there. FEMA had classified the building as a Class 4 hazard initially, and most of the staff had taken their leave then. There's still a fence around it, signs warning people away, but it's still her workplace. Caitlin just can't ... tell anyone not in the know about what she does there now. ]
Yeah, um. Cisco Ramon. His information's in my — [ She looks to her side, her expression shifting to confusion. After a moment, she closes her eyes, looking just a touch amused. ] I was going to say my purse but that's gone now.
[ The siren in the distance grows louder, and she can guess it'll only be a few moments longer before they're on-scene. ] I can give you Cisco's number. I don't need my phone or my address book to remember it.
[Offering her a small, reassuring smile, he keeps holding her hands, not squeezing or pressing, just gently holding them to give her some contact, to keep her from rubbing her wounds against her pants again. The ambulance pulls up at the entrance to the alleyway, and he glances over his shoulder at it before looking at her.]
Tell me, I'll remember it. I'll give him a call while the paramedics check you for serious injuries, okay? And I'll hang out until he gets here and I'm sure you're going home safely.
[His fingers brush gently against her knuckles and the backs of her hands, he can feel the delicate bones and tendons in her hands, and tries to ignore the swell of emotion that comes with registering that.]
Okay. [ Her answer comes with a slight nod, a habit long ingrained that supersedes the pain that travels up her neck. She can hear the paramedics unpacking their gear, talking among themselves. Likely assuming she couldn't be too injured if she's at least upright. ] It's 816-337-7827. If he doesn't answer the first time, call him right back. He has a habit of screening calls from unfamiliar numbers.
[ She would hate for the detective to be stuck waiting with her because Cisco doesn't feel like answering his phone. Well, less doesn't feel like and more that he's trying to avoid certain phone calls. She would do the same, if her mother tried calling her as much as his family pestered him.
As the paramedics approach, she's reluctant to withdraw her hands from his. It's been comforting, and she doesn't want that to end just yet.
One of the medics crouches down beside them, gives Eddie a nod of we'll take it from here. He looks to Caitlin, mirroring Eddie's gentle, reassuring expression. "Do you think you can stand, ma'am?" ]
[He gives her a little smile, waits until she's in the capable hands of the paramedics before he makes the call. The first time goes through to voicemail, and then he dials again. This time, Cisco picks up and Eddie explains who he is, what happened, and tells him that Caitlin was mugged and that she's going to be taken to the hospital. Spends a few moments reassuring him that she's alright and giving him the info he'll need to meet them at the hospital.
As soon as he's done, he heads back over to where they're getting Caitlin into the back of the ambulance, asks the paramedics if he can escort her so he can take her statement after she's been taken care of. The trip to the hospital is short and she's in after a while, they check her out, bandage her, Cisco shows up only a few minutes after they do.
After Eddie's done taking her statement, while Cisco is grabbing them coffees, Eddie sits down beside her and offers a little smile.]
[ Caitlin does her very level best to not be the terrible patient that she usually is. The doctor, an intern really, looks frazzled and is grateful when she can breeze him through what injuries she may have, what injuries he can easily confirm.
X-rays confirm nothing being broken, just deeply bruised, and the scrapes on her hands are mostly superficial. No casts, no stitches, nothing but a prescription for antibiotics and something for the pain. And an order to follow up with her primary physician.
Cisco's a whirlwind of concern and nervous energy, nearly putting his hands on her shoulders several times before remembering himself. She knows, without him saying anything, that he's taking her home, that he's staying, and that he's already told Dr. Wells she'll be out for at least tomorrow.
She smiles in return as Eddie sits, though it falters when he speaks. ]
Boyfriend? [ She looks down the hall where Cisco had wandered off. ] Oh. No, Cisco isn't—we're just friends. Best friends and he's the only other person who still works at STAR Labs.
[It's a little shameful, that he perks up a bit when she confirms Cisco isn't her boyfriend, but he can't help it. Something in his shoulders relaxes a little, too, and he offers her a soft smile.]
Alright. Well, I'm glad he's here for you.
[He closes his teeth into his lower lip, eyes on her face for a moment.]
And he's gonna get you home safe and everything? You're not going to be stranded here right?
[ Her smile turns a shade sleepy, her eyes a little heavy. It had already been a long day when the attack happened and, now that the adrenaline is fading, it's harder to stay awake. Carefully, she lifts her head to lean back, to stretch out the sore muscles that are going stiff and would be cramping tomorrow. ]
He'll probably also camp out on my couch tonight and tomorrow, to make sure I don't try anything like... sneak work. Or get out of bed.
[Eddie's mouth curves into a bit of a smile, and he ducks his head forward, holding her eyes. She looks tired, weak, but she's stretching and moving in a way that goes to show she's still able to move freely, isn't struggling with her body too much. It's good to see.]
So you're the type to try to sneak work? Noted.
[Leaning in a little, he pauses, thinks, bites his lower lip, then takes a short breath.]
Let me give you my number? Or grab yours? I don't mean to be forward, but...it would be nice to check up on you, make sure you're okay.
[ Caitlin laughs softly, stilted, a way of admitting that, yes, she's guilty of sneaking work when she can. It's one of the few things that kept her sane after the explosion. Arranging Dr. Wells's care. Writing a treatment plan for her new patient. She almost tells him that, right now, sneaking work is mostly monitoring Barry's vitals on her tablet. But the detail is unimportant, irrelevant.
She watches as he leans closer. ] Yeah. That's—yeah. Of course. [ She nods carefully. ] Could I see that pen and paper you have?
[Eddie hands over the pad he's holding, and his pen, his eyes flicking up to her face, holding her gaze as he presses them into her hands. For a moment, while she's writing, he thinks about why he's doing this, and if it's exploitive, if he's even sure he's doing it for the wrong reasons or if it's as altruistic as he's saying it is.
Either way, it doesn't matter, he thinks. He'll keep it completely professional unless she gives him an indication it could go any other way.]
[ Caitlin writes out her personal number in neat, careful handwriting. Then, on a whim, she also jots down her "office" number at STAR Labs. Just in case, right? She'd hate for him to have a hard time getting a hold of her. It would be rude, and she was raised better than that.
She hands the pad and pen back to him. ]
Of course. I also put down my number at work. I'm sure Cisco is going to pick up a new phone for me tomorrow, but in case, you know? Obviously, you probably wouldn't be able to reach me tomorrow in that instance, but I have voicemail there, too.
[He accepts the pad and smiles, then, at the bottom of the paper, he jots down his number, writes 'Eddie' beside it, along with a little smiley face, and tears off the part of the page it's written on.
Handing it to her, he lifts his gaze and meets her gaze, the smile still in place.]
[ When she reaches to take the paper from him, her touch lingers a little longer than necessary. She looks down, away, and her smile becomes perhaps a little shy. ]
Thank you, Detective. [ She pauses. ] Eddie, I mean. Thanks.
[ Anything she might have said next is waylaid by Cisco's reappearance, coffees in tow and papers tucked under his arm. The nurse had taken him on a brief detour to fill out Caitlin's discharge papers and to give him instructions. ]
Oh thank god, [ she breathes out in relief. ] I was worried they were going to change their minds and keep me overnight.
[ As her friend ducks around the corner to grab a wheelchair (because they can't just let her walk out under her own power), she looks back to Eddie. ] If I don't hear from you, I'll... I'll definitely call.
[When Caitlin lets her fingertips linger against his hand, when she looks at him with that slightly shy expression and then ducks her gaze away, he can't quite help the way his pulse races a little. Okay. So it's not just him, and maybe she's noticed the hint of attraction too.
And it should probably be wrong, possibly unethical, all things considered, but he feels suddenly on top of the world, a little thrilled. His smile widens a little, and he's about to talk when her friend comes back with coffee and paper and distractions. After Cisco heads out to get the chair, Eddie turns his attention back to her.]
I'll give it a shot, but I would definitely like to hear back from you. And you know, you should be resting so...
[A pause, and he tilts his head, takes a breath and holds it, then takes a risk.]
I could always grab some take out or cook something for you and drop by with it, if you wanted? Cisco seems nice but he doesn't look like the domestic type...
[ She should politely decline the offer. He's been so kind and great already, and she wouldn't want to seem like she's taking advantage of that. But maybe it's the night Caitlin's had and maybe it's the way his smile makes her feel, but she doesn't want to turn it down. ]
He isn't. At all. He knows some basics, but more often than not, we get take out. And by take out, I mean "Big Belly Burger."
[ Not that she dislikes that. She just isn't fond of it enough to have it as often as Cisco and Dr. Wells do. There had been several days when she would bring Dr. Wells food from there during his recovery.
She nods carefully, taking care to not jostle the ache in the back of her skull. ]
I wouldn't want you to go through the trouble of cooking. Take out would be wonderful, though.
[And Eddie wouldn't offer if he didn't actually want to help out. So when she accepts the offer, even if she's requesting that he not cook for her, he smiles, bright and warm.]
It's the least I can do for showing up late.
[He catches her eyes, mouth curved into a warm smile.]
And god, I wouldn't bring you Big Belly Burger when you're trying to heal. You need something with actual nutrients, you know? Which is, by the way, the reason I offered to cook, and it's not much trouble at all. I like cooking.
[The smile widens a little as he looks at her.]
But if you really object, what kind of takeout do you like?
In this situation, better late than the alternative. [ Never would mean she'd likely be dead right now. Or hurt a lot worse than she is. Caitlin is just going to focus on the good, here. Only the good. ]
Well, if you're going to insist on cooking. I mean, I would hate to deprive you of an activity you like. I like cooking, too.
[ She sighs softly. ] It's one of the few things I do outside of work these days.
[He smiles, a little self-deprecatingly, ducking his head to the side and shrugging it off. Because it's true, that she might have been hurt worse or killed if he hadn't been there, but it's his job. And he does wish he'd been there sooner.
When she accepts his offer of cooking for her and says she likes it, he smiles, abruptly.]
Really? What kind of food do you like? I love trying new things, maybe I could look up some recipes?
[ There's an urge to reassure him. That, yes, it's his job, but that doesn't make what he did any less heroic or any less appreciated. She could probably try, but she'll never feel like she can thank him enough.
When he asks about food, she carefully reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear, making sure not to aggravate the soreness in her back. ]
I... I'm not overly particular? When I cook for myself, it's usually chicken or fish with vegetables. I like Chinese food and Indian, though I can't handle much spice. Greek food is good. I'm... easy, I guess.
[It's a relief, that she's letting him do it - it isn't so much a guilt thing as it is an interest in making sure she's okay, that she's taken care of. Because maybe it sounds a bit like she doesn't have many people who are taking care of her, aside from Cisco.
And it doesn't hurt that she's really cute. Like. Really cute. Especially when she lifts her hand to tuck her hair behind her ear like that.]
Alright. I've got a few ideas. Give me a call, whenever you have time, and I'll come over to your place.
[Reaching out, he rests his hand over hers, squeezes lightly, and then releases it.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chance encounter.
She's had her excuses: assisting however she could with the investigation, committing some items into permanent storage, watching over her one and only patient. But the book has been closed, the storage locked, and Barry Allen has stabilized enough that a skilled nurse is able to take over the night shift. Still, she doesn't leave until late, and she avoids going directly home. Her new apartment is buried under moving boxes, half of them torn open but none of them unpacked. Cait's purged as much of Ronnie's things as she could bear, but even her own things remind her of the fiance she lost. The dress she wore on their third date. The blouse he spilled half a bottle of red wine on. She should have more stressing memories at S.T.A.R. Labs instead of the new place, but it's never about the location.
So instead, she runs errands, thankful that Central City has so many all-night and 24-hour businesses, so she can use it as an excuse. There's no parking on the street proper, every space filled by someone at one of the bars further down, so she has to park on one of the darkened side streets. She's out of her car, three and four steps down when something, solid and metallic, hits her square between the shoulders. It sends her sprawling, hands going out to catch her fall, even if she knows that's the best way to break an arm, and her palms drag along the pavement. She'd scream if there was any air left in her lungs. A voice behind her demands her purse and her keys, both of which she's quick to hand over, nearly dropping them from her shaking, bleeding hands. She expects the sound of retreating steps, of the engine of her Mini flaring to life and the squeal of tires, but instead comes another demand: her engagement ring. ]
No, please. [ She's protesting between coughs, between stumbling over her words. ] Please, I can't--
no subject
He's on the way home from dim sum after yet another date cancelled on him, feeling bummed and more than a little bit lonely, when he hears it. The distinct sound of an impact, something heavy and metal against someone's body, and he's immediately on guard. Body language shifting from casual and unself-conscious to something more predatory, on guard, he unstraps his gun, and pushes the bottom of his leather jacket behind it for easier draw and to show off the police badge strapped to his belt. Hand hovering above it, he moves cautiously down the alley in the shadows, and when he hears a woman's voice, soft and shaky and pleading, saying she can't, he doesn't hesitate to draw his gun, tucks a flashlight alongside the barrel and flicks it on to startle the guy while he holds the gun on him.]
Hey. Central City Police. Drop your weapon and leave her alone.
[It's a split second thing, the guy freezes under the light and then bolts off down the other side of the alley. Eddie has his gun away in a second and he's dialing on his cell phone, calling it in - 'dispatch, it's Detective Eddie Thawne, we have a mugger fleeing along...' and 'medical assistance required at...' - a few moments later, sirens start going off a few streets down, and Eddie's making his way over to the girl, crouching beside her and trying to catch her eyes.]
Hey, are you alright?
no subject
Caitlin's blinded as the flashlight washes the alley in cool blue clarity. (She makes the mistake of looking directly into the bulb, and she's blinking bright white spots.) It's a distraction, a reminder that they aren't alone, there is a chance someone can help. And help it does; she hears the retreating clatter of running, the thief leaving with her purse and her keys but not her ring or her life, thank god.
As her savior makes that call (she picks up bits and pieces of his side of the conversation), she's shifting on the ground. She hadn't moved, really, after falling, in fear of provoking the mugger and him thinking she was about to fight back with more than just her trembling, frightened words. Sitting back on her heels, she's finally able to take a full breath, and even if it comes as something of a sob, she'll take it.
She nods, the movement making her neck ache, pain radiating from what promises to be an exceptional bruise down into her extremities. ] I'm fine. Thank you.
[ It's the worst I'm fine in history, as she's flinching from pain and absentmindedly wiping her bleeding hands on her pants. ]
no subject
There's no way she's fine, and when she tries to say she is, it's just more obvious that she's really not. Reaching out, he gently touches her shoulder, fingers gentle as his eyes skim up and down her. He's checking for obvious injuries, bleeding, and then his eyes settle on her face - she looks disoriented and in pain, her hands are bloody and she's wiping them on her pants.]
Hey, hey. You're bleeding, and you just got mugged. It's totally fine if you're not okay, alright? No need to stand up yet.
[His voice is pitched soft, a little gentle, and he slides his hand gently from her shoulder along her upper back, steadying her.]
Are you hurt anywhere else?
no subject
Her vision goes blurry, and she can't figure that out either until she blinks a couple times; her sight clears momentarily, then goes blurry again. She's crying (a reaction to the adrenaline flooding her system, something in her rational brain says), a slow trickle of tears rolling down her face, dripping onto her shirt collar.
She wants to smile at the man being kind to her, kinder than she would ever expect from anyone anymore, but she can't. Her mouth won't cooperate, the corners of her lips pulling down instead of going up. When his hand touches her shoulder, it hurts, but she doesn't complain; she just tightens her jaw.
But when it moves, when his hand slides over and settles right where she was hit, even the light, gentle pressure is too much. It's a reflex, moving away from the pain, flinching hard enough that her body jerks forward, eyes shut tight. ]
Sorry. [ Apologizing first, he didn't know, he didn't mean to, and she reacted so badly. ] He h-hit me on my back.
no subject
It's okay...just take it easy...
[His voice is pitched gentle, he's still trying to reassure her, even though he's starting to think that she's the type who's used to taking care of herself, even if it's hard for her to do it. Even if it doesn't come naturally. He's a little surprised that something in him wants to reach out and take care of her, to take some of the weight off.
So when he moves his hand and she flinches away, Eddie jumps, and immediately moves his hand, a wash of guilt going over him, his face flushing.]
Oh my god, I am so sorry. I should have asked before touching you, I just...
[Trailing off, he exhales slightly, eyes on her face.]
I'm really sorry. Are you okay?
no subject
[ The words come a little too fast to be genuine, chipped short from pain. The sudden movement hasn't helped any; as she settles still again, she can feel the pain radiating down her back, into her hips, and up into her neck, cradling the back of her head in fire.
The pain strips away the gauze of fear clouding her brain, redraws everything in sharp clarity again. When Caitlin opens her eyes again and looks at him, it's the first time she's done so with any real focus, any real awareness. Her hands go still on her legs, the realization that they're cut and bleeding coming clear. ]
It's probably just bruising? But I don't think there's any damage to the spinal cord. [ The spinal cord, not her spinal cord. If she can keep it objective, keep a professional distance in her self-assessment, maybe she can keep her urge to panic down. ] There's— [ She pauses to hold up her palms for a better look. Moving her arms makes her grit her teeth, makes the pain between her shoulders throb. ] —a few abrasions. They'll need to be cleaned, especially after the mess I've made.
no subject
Are you a doctor?
[His voice is pitched gentle, his eyes are on her face. Maybe talking about something else will help to distract her until the medical attention arrives. After a moment, he extends his hands, palm up.]
Here, let me take a look at your hands?
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But after a second or two, she nods, and stretches her arms so she can rest the backs of her hands in his palms. His hands are warm, and it's then that she realizes how chilly the night is. The adrenaline in her system has to be wearing down, her fear subsiding as the cold and the pain become more noticeable. ]
I am. [ A beat. ] A doctor, I mean. I work over at STAR Labs.
[ Her confession of that is sheepish. It's like saying she worked on a tanker that was responsible for spilling thousands of gallons of oil. The explosion could have done much more damage to the city, but there was certainly enough done. ]
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Gently, he takes her hands, lifts them a little so he can look at them in the light from the street lamp by the mouth of the alley. Wincing a little, he looks back at her, his eyes meeting hers as she explains she works at STAR Labs. For a moment, he goes still, brows raising - he'd heard about it, only a couple of weeks after he'd moved to Central City. A tragic accident, but an accident nonetheless.]
I didn't realize there were still people working at STAR Labs, honestly. Do you have anyone I could call? To come pick you up once the paramedics look at you?
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Yeah, um. Cisco Ramon. His information's in my — [ She looks to her side, her expression shifting to confusion. After a moment, she closes her eyes, looking just a touch amused. ] I was going to say my purse but that's gone now.
[ The siren in the distance grows louder, and she can guess it'll only be a few moments longer before they're on-scene. ] I can give you Cisco's number. I don't need my phone or my address book to remember it.
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[Offering her a small, reassuring smile, he keeps holding her hands, not squeezing or pressing, just gently holding them to give her some contact, to keep her from rubbing her wounds against her pants again. The ambulance pulls up at the entrance to the alleyway, and he glances over his shoulder at it before looking at her.]
Tell me, I'll remember it. I'll give him a call while the paramedics check you for serious injuries, okay? And I'll hang out until he gets here and I'm sure you're going home safely.
[His fingers brush gently against her knuckles and the backs of her hands, he can feel the delicate bones and tendons in her hands, and tries to ignore the swell of emotion that comes with registering that.]
Alright?
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[ She would hate for the detective to be stuck waiting with her because Cisco doesn't feel like answering his phone. Well, less doesn't feel like and more that he's trying to avoid certain phone calls. She would do the same, if her mother tried calling her as much as his family pestered him.
As the paramedics approach, she's reluctant to withdraw her hands from his. It's been comforting, and she doesn't want that to end just yet.
One of the medics crouches down beside them, gives Eddie a nod of we'll take it from here. He looks to Caitlin, mirroring Eddie's gentle, reassuring expression. "Do you think you can stand, ma'am?" ]
Yeah. Yeah, I think so.
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[He gives her a little smile, waits until she's in the capable hands of the paramedics before he makes the call. The first time goes through to voicemail, and then he dials again. This time, Cisco picks up and Eddie explains who he is, what happened, and tells him that Caitlin was mugged and that she's going to be taken to the hospital. Spends a few moments reassuring him that she's alright and giving him the info he'll need to meet them at the hospital.
As soon as he's done, he heads back over to where they're getting Caitlin into the back of the ambulance, asks the paramedics if he can escort her so he can take her statement after she's been taken care of. The trip to the hospital is short and she's in after a while, they check her out, bandage her, Cisco shows up only a few minutes after they do.
After Eddie's done taking her statement, while Cisco is grabbing them coffees, Eddie sits down beside her and offers a little smile.]
Your boyfriend is nice.
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X-rays confirm nothing being broken, just deeply bruised, and the scrapes on her hands are mostly superficial. No casts, no stitches, nothing but a prescription for antibiotics and something for the pain. And an order to follow up with her primary physician.
Cisco's a whirlwind of concern and nervous energy, nearly putting his hands on her shoulders several times before remembering himself. She knows, without him saying anything, that he's taking her home, that he's staying, and that he's already told Dr. Wells she'll be out for at least tomorrow.
She smiles in return as Eddie sits, though it falters when he speaks. ]
Boyfriend? [ She looks down the hall where Cisco had wandered off. ] Oh. No, Cisco isn't—we're just friends. Best friends and he's the only other person who still works at STAR Labs.
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[It's a little shameful, that he perks up a bit when she confirms Cisco isn't her boyfriend, but he can't help it. Something in his shoulders relaxes a little, too, and he offers her a soft smile.]
Alright. Well, I'm glad he's here for you.
[He closes his teeth into his lower lip, eyes on her face for a moment.]
And he's gonna get you home safe and everything? You're not going to be stranded here right?
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[ Her smile turns a shade sleepy, her eyes a little heavy. It had already been a long day when the attack happened and, now that the adrenaline is fading, it's harder to stay awake. Carefully, she lifts her head to lean back, to stretch out the sore muscles that are going stiff and would be cramping tomorrow. ]
He'll probably also camp out on my couch tonight and tomorrow, to make sure I don't try anything like... sneak work. Or get out of bed.
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So you're the type to try to sneak work? Noted.
[Leaning in a little, he pauses, thinks, bites his lower lip, then takes a short breath.]
Let me give you my number? Or grab yours? I don't mean to be forward, but...it would be nice to check up on you, make sure you're okay.
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She watches as he leans closer. ] Yeah. That's—yeah. Of course. [ She nods carefully. ] Could I see that pen and paper you have?
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[Eddie hands over the pad he's holding, and his pen, his eyes flicking up to her face, holding her gaze as he presses them into her hands. For a moment, while she's writing, he thinks about why he's doing this, and if it's exploitive, if he's even sure he's doing it for the wrong reasons or if it's as altruistic as he's saying it is.
Either way, it doesn't matter, he thinks. He'll keep it completely professional unless she gives him an indication it could go any other way.]
Thanks.
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She hands the pad and pen back to him. ]
Of course. I also put down my number at work. I'm sure Cisco is going to pick up a new phone for me tomorrow, but in case, you know? Obviously, you probably wouldn't be able to reach me tomorrow in that instance, but I have voicemail there, too.
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[He accepts the pad and smiles, then, at the bottom of the paper, he jots down his number, writes 'Eddie' beside it, along with a little smiley face, and tears off the part of the page it's written on.
Handing it to her, he lifts his gaze and meets her gaze, the smile still in place.]
Here. Just in case.
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Thank you, Detective. [ She pauses. ] Eddie, I mean. Thanks.
[ Anything she might have said next is waylaid by Cisco's reappearance, coffees in tow and papers tucked under his arm. The nurse had taken him on a brief detour to fill out Caitlin's discharge papers and to give him instructions. ]
Oh thank god, [ she breathes out in relief. ] I was worried they were going to change their minds and keep me overnight.
[ As her friend ducks around the corner to grab a wheelchair (because they can't just let her walk out under her own power), she looks back to Eddie. ] If I don't hear from you, I'll... I'll definitely call.
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And it should probably be wrong, possibly unethical, all things considered, but he feels suddenly on top of the world, a little thrilled. His smile widens a little, and he's about to talk when her friend comes back with coffee and paper and distractions. After Cisco heads out to get the chair, Eddie turns his attention back to her.]
I'll give it a shot, but I would definitely like to hear back from you. And you know, you should be resting so...
[A pause, and he tilts his head, takes a breath and holds it, then takes a risk.]
I could always grab some take out or cook something for you and drop by with it, if you wanted? Cisco seems nice but he doesn't look like the domestic type...
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He isn't. At all. He knows some basics, but more often than not, we get take out. And by take out, I mean "Big Belly Burger."
[ Not that she dislikes that. She just isn't fond of it enough to have it as often as Cisco and Dr. Wells do. There had been several days when she would bring Dr. Wells food from there during his recovery.
She nods carefully, taking care to not jostle the ache in the back of her skull. ]
I wouldn't want you to go through the trouble of cooking. Take out would be wonderful, though.
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It's the least I can do for showing up late.
[He catches her eyes, mouth curved into a warm smile.]
And god, I wouldn't bring you Big Belly Burger when you're trying to heal. You need something with actual nutrients, you know? Which is, by the way, the reason I offered to cook, and it's not much trouble at all. I like cooking.
[The smile widens a little as he looks at her.]
But if you really object, what kind of takeout do you like?
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Well, if you're going to insist on cooking. I mean, I would hate to deprive you of an activity you like. I like cooking, too.
[ She sighs softly. ] It's one of the few things I do outside of work these days.
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[He smiles, a little self-deprecatingly, ducking his head to the side and shrugging it off. Because it's true, that she might have been hurt worse or killed if he hadn't been there, but it's his job. And he does wish he'd been there sooner.
When she accepts his offer of cooking for her and says she likes it, he smiles, abruptly.]
Really? What kind of food do you like? I love trying new things, maybe I could look up some recipes?
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When he asks about food, she carefully reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear, making sure not to aggravate the soreness in her back. ]
I... I'm not overly particular? When I cook for myself, it's usually chicken or fish with vegetables. I like Chinese food and Indian, though I can't handle much spice. Greek food is good. I'm... easy, I guess.
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And it doesn't hurt that she's really cute. Like. Really cute. Especially when she lifts her hand to tuck her hair behind her ear like that.]
Alright. I've got a few ideas. Give me a call, whenever you have time, and I'll come over to your place.
[Reaching out, he rests his hand over hers, squeezes lightly, and then releases it.]
That okay with you?