Chapter 21 : Three Words
The candles were Caitlin's idea.
She'd set the table with care—real plates instead of takeout containers, cloth napkins instead of paper towels, wine glasses that actually matched. The effort was obvious and touching.
"You didn't have to do all this," I said, watching her light the final candle.
"I wanted to." She straightened the napkin at my place setting for the third time. "We've been so busy with STAR Labs stuff, I thought a real dinner might be nice."
Nice. The word felt inadequate for what she'd created. The apartment glowed with warm light. Soft music played from somewhere. The meal smelled surprisingly good—she'd either improved dramatically or ordered from somewhere high-end.
"Sit," she said. "Before everything gets cold."
We ate in comfortable silence for the first course. The pasta was definitely purchased, not homemade, but that seemed beside the point. What mattered was the intention behind it.
"Cisco mentioned you've been asking for advice," I said eventually.
Caitlin's fork paused mid-twirl. "He told you that?"
"He mentioned you seemed nervous about something." I kept my tone light. "I assumed it wasn't work-related."
"It's not." She set down her fork, hands folding in her lap. "Harry, I need to say something."
The shift in her posture was immediate and unmistakable. Whatever had been building all evening—all week, really—was about to surface.
"Okay."
"I've been thinking about us. About what this is." She met my eyes directly. "When Ronnie died, I told myself I'd never do this again. Never open myself up to losing someone. It was easier to be numb."
"Caitlin—"
"Let me finish." She took a breath. "Then you appeared. And at first I told myself it was just distraction. Something to fill the emptiness. But it's not. It hasn't been for a while."
Her hands trembled slightly. The vulnerability in her expression was absolute—no armor, no clinical distance, just Caitlin Snow laying herself bare.
"I love you, Harry."
Three words. Simple. Terrifying. Brave.
She didn't look away. Didn't qualify the statement or hedge against rejection. Just sat there, heart exposed, waiting for my response.
The strategic part of my mind catalogued the moment. Relationship maximized. Trust secured. Asset fully committed. Cold calculations that had driven my approach from the beginning.
But another part—the part that had grown despite my best efforts—felt something else entirely.
Her laugh when I said something unexpected. Her hand finding mine during quiet moments. The way she'd held my shaking hands after the attack. The sound of her heartbeat when she slept against my chest.
These weren't strategies. They weren't calculations. They were the building blocks of something real.
"I love you too."
The words came from somewhere genuine. Somewhere I hadn't known existed until now.
Caitlin's breath caught. Her eyes glistened in the candlelight.
"Really?"
"Really." I reached across the table and took her hand. "I came to Central City planning to rebuild my life. I didn't plan on you. But here you are, and here I am, and I can't imagine being anywhere else."
The confession was incomplete—missing the truth about what I was, what I'd done, what I was still doing. But it was more honest than anything I'd said in weeks.
She smiled. The expression transformed her face, erasing the lines of worry and grief that had defined her for so long.
"Here we are," she agreed.
The rest of dinner passed in a blur. Conversation that meant everything and nothing. Touches that lingered longer than necessary. The gradual migration from table to couch to bedroom.
Afterward, she slept against my chest.
Her breathing was slow and deep, the rhythm of someone who felt safe. Completely, utterly safe. She'd given me that trust without reservation—without knowing what I'd done to earn it.
I stared at the ceiling, processing.
The system interface hovered at the edge of my vision. I pulled up the notification log, expecting some acknowledgment of the relationship milestone.
[RELATIONSHIP STATUS: COMMITTED] [NO STRATEGIC VALUE DETECTED] [RECOMMEND FOCUS ON PRIMARY OBJECTIVES]
No PP gain. No stat bonus. No acknowledgment that anything significant had happened.
The system couldn't quantify love. Couldn't reduce it to numbers and efficiency metrics. Whatever I felt for Caitlin existed outside its parameters.
Which meant it might be real.
Is that better or worse?
I didn't have an answer. The strategic part of me knew that genuine attachment created vulnerability. Exploitable weaknesses. Pressure points that enemies could target.
Wells could use her against me. The investigation could threaten her. My hunting activities could destroy everything she felt.
But the human part—the part that remembered her laugh and her touch and the way she said "I love you" without flinching—didn't care.
Some vulnerabilities were worth having.
I'd said those words before, in my own head. Now I understood what they meant.
Dawn light filtered through the curtains.
Caitlin stirred, pressing closer for a moment before her eyes opened. Her smile was immediate, unguarded, the expression of someone waking up exactly where they wanted to be.
"Still here?"
"Still here."
She reached up and touched my face. Her fingers traced my jawline, my cheek, the scar near my temple that I couldn't explain because Harrison Griffin had acquired it before I existed.
"Last night was..."
"Yeah," I agreed. "It was."
The moment stretched, comfortable and warm. Morning light made her hair glow auburn at the edges. Her eyes held depths I was still learning to navigate.
[EXTRACTION RECOMMENDED] [16 DAYS SINCE LAST ACQUISITION] [POWER GROWTH STAGNANT]
The notification flashed at the edge of my vision. I dismissed it without acknowledgment.
"What are you thinking?" Caitlin asked.
"That I should make you breakfast." Not a lie. Not the whole truth either. "What do you want?"
"Surprise me."
I kissed her forehead and extracted myself from the tangled sheets. The kitchen was small but functional. I found eggs, bread, what might have been cheese. The basics of a simple meal.
While the pan heated, I allowed myself one moment of honest assessment.
The system wanted extraction. Demanded growth. Punished inactivity with penalties and headaches and constant pressure.
Caitlin wanted love. Trust. The future she'd been afraid to imagine since Ronnie died.
I wanted both. The power to survive in this world and the connection that made survival worth pursuing.
Can you have both?
The eggs sizzled in the pan. I turned them with more care than they probably required.
I'm going to try.
The system would get its extraction. Soon. The hunt would resume, the collection would grow, the progression would continue.
But not today.
Today belonged to her. To us. To whatever this was becoming.
Tomorrow could have its plans and its strategies and its cold calculations.
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