Aftermath

The Dichotomy of Love and Hate

Frost was having a bad day - which was saying something, considering how turbulent the past few weeks had been.

There were many reasons that today stood out as particularly horrid. It started in the early morning hours, when Frost awoke from a fitful sleep. She'd been plagued with fragmented nightmares for hours. Most of them were fleeting blips that left her quivering in the wake of a threat she couldn't identify. Others were extensive and detailed, uprooting fears from deep within her subconscious – the likes of which she hadn't been faced with since childhood. The creaky basement stairs of her grandparents' house, the unknown entity lurking in her closet, the exam score which was less than perfect – and therefore unacceptable. Her mind was dredging up all sorts of horrors.

After trying (and failing) to get back to sleep, then the headaches set in. It was a sharp jab behind her eyes, throbbing pain in her temples, a dull ache at the base of her skull – all at the same time. And once she had tripped twice on her way to the bathroom, Frost determined that these were the neurological side effects of the cure. (Awfully ironic calling it a "cure" at this point, though; so far, all it'd done was make her feel worse.) The headache persisted through a Doctorial Pursuit marathon, the rising of the sun, a bowl of cereal, and her freezing-cold shower. When she parted the curtains to brighten the room, Frost also discovered that light sensitivity had joined her miserable crew of symptoms. A large pair of black sunglasses – the ones reserved for karaoke bar hangovers – were included in her outfit for the day.

None of this went over well at her biweekly STAR Labs checkup, and it just made Barry even more insufferable. He and Iris left just moments ago, with the promise of an ice pack, a weighted blanket, and a (mild-ish) sedative. It was, of course, a temporary solution. If Frost's theory was right, her and Caitlin's minds were just beginning to meld, and that process would be neither quick nor painless.

Her theory stemmed mainly from the fact that these nightmares were much more akin to memories – just... not hers. She was seeing and hearing and doing things that struck her as foreign yet simultaneously familiar. The voices in her dreams were those of family members that Killer Frost had never interacted with. It was Caitlin's family, Caitlin's experiences, Caitlin's life. And not for the first time, Frost was struck with just how little she could truly attribute to herself. She was walking around in a borrowed body, living rent-free in a pre-occupied mind. What would be left behind to indicate that she'd been there? Would she be a permanent stain on the cloth of Caitlin's consciousness, or would she wash away in the spin cycle? What mark would Killer Frost leave on the world?

This was, however, what she'd signed up for. Frost knew that, if it worked properly, the cure would rewrite her corrupt code. In fact, that was the whole point. And she'd accepted that. Except, now, faced with her own mortality and insignificance, Frost was beginning to regret her decision.

With that thought came another spark of pain in her head, along with a new symptom. With a suddenness that sent her mind reeling, Frost was thrown into the bowels of flashback. It was just for a second; not even long enough to comprehend. But, for that brief moment, she wasn't in STAR Labs anymore, and the space before her was not the Cortex. Then, another blip – longer this time. Scenes flashed (Ha! Hilarious.) before her eyes, along with whispers of sound and phantom sensations.

A crash. Shattered glass. Hard concrete. Then, a side mirror and icy eyes and white hair. (And then a scream.)

A hospital, cold and sterile. A bed, soft and occupied. A father, a husband, a friend. A short time left to say goodbye.

Frost's head ached even more as she stumbled out of the MedBay, trying to physically distance herself from the onslaught. But she was fighting something she could never leave behind – her brain.