"No, I know that," Caitlin says, trying to avoid the memory of that conversation from coming up. She twists her hands nervously in her lap. Putting together the pieces of all of this is hard. It feels all jumbled in her mind, confused and hopelessly knotted. Sh takes a breath, lets it out slowly, willing herself to calmness.

"I don't remember Barry getting it back. If he did, I wasn't there." What else might have happened without her there? It's a relief to hear that he'd done it back home. That he — that they — had all been okay. There's the tiniest irrational pang at that thought. The world went on without her. They went on without her. But it's what they should do, what she would do in their place.

"If he's gotten it back once already, why don't we just do what you did then? You know it worked; it shouldn't be any less effective here."