Weeks passed.
The pipeline cell stayed quiet.
Linda didn't try to break out. Didn't throw threats. Didn't talk much either. She just… watched. Thought. Sometimes she'd sit for hours without moving, mask in her lap, eyes distant. Some nights she slept. Most nights she didn't.
And Barry kept his word.
He didn't push.
Didn't question.
He gave her space.
But he was always around.
Sometimes walking past with a nod. Sometimes dropping off real food instead of those protein bars. Sometimes just sitting in the cortex, close enough that she could hear his voice if she wanted to.
She never said much back.
But she listened.
---
One floor up, STAR Labs had turned into something else entirely.
The old training chamber—once used for gym—was alive again.
It echoed with impact, sweat, breath, and the occasional curse.
Barry stood near the console, arms crossed, watching.
Cisco was down in the ring, gloves on, face already glistening with sweat. Across from him stood Billy Batson—black hoodie, jeans, hair a mess, eyes full of nerves. He hadn't transformed once.
Not in days.
And that was the point.
Barry wasn't trying to train Shazam.
He was trying to train Billy.
"Again," Barry called out, voice calm but sharp.
Billy grunted, stepped forward with a clumsy punch.
Cisco ducked, pivoted, tapped him on the side with a glove. "Too slow, dude."
Billy stumbled back. Frustrated.
"This is dumb," he muttered. "Why not just let me say the word?"
"Because you won't always have time to say it," Barry said. "One day, your mouth's full of blood and your jaw's half-broken, and if you're only trained to fight as Shazam, you're already done."
Billy frowned but didn't argue.
He knew Barry was right.
He always was.
---
Near the edge of the room, Caitlin watched from the corner.
But she wasn't just Caitlin.
Frost was awake.
It was subtle. Her eyes glowed faintly, breath just a little colder. A mist clung to her shoulders even though the room was warm.
Barry turned to her. "You ready?"
She nodded. "Yeah."
He tossed her a staff. One she used back when she used to spar with Cisco and Barry. The frost instantly crept along the metal, coating it in thin ice.
She twirled it once. "So… who's dying today?"
"Hopefully no one," Barry said with a small grin. "But Billy could use a partner."
Billy blinked. "Wait, I'm fighting her?"
Frost smirked. "You'll live."
Cisco stepped aside, panting. "Hey, I'm not trying to get frozen again. I'm still thawing out from last week."
Barry stepped into the center of the chamber.
"All right," he said. "Rules are simple. No transformations. No powers above a level two unless I say so. This is about timing, control, and trust."
Billy nodded, already regretting everything.
Frost stepped into the ring with a slow exhale. Breath turned to mist.
---
The match started.
Billy moved first, clumsy and unsure. He tried to jab low, but Frost spun, sidestepped, and tapped his leg with the staff.
"Too readable," she muttered.
He grunted, stepping back, sweat already on his forehead.
"Try again."
She wasn't holding back.
But she wasn't being cruel either.
Barry watched closely.
This wasn't just a sparring match. It was trust-building. Barry was teaching them something beyond reflexes. Something grounded. Human. How to fight when the lightning's gone. How to survive when the odds don't care who you are.
How to stop running.
Billy charged again.
Sloppy form. Shoulders tight. He threw a right hook like it owed him money.
Frost ducked, rolled under, and tapped the back of his knee with the frozen end of her staff. He dropped to one leg with a groan, arms flailing to keep balance.
"Come on," she said flatly. "You gotta stop swinging like this is a street fight."
He scrambled up, panting. "It kinda is for me!"
Frost tilted her head, eyes glowing faint blue. "Then learn how to win one."
She came at him this time. Fast. Smooth. She wasn't just fighting—she was gliding, like her feet barely touched the ground. The staff cracked toward his ribs. Billy raised both arms to block. It hit harder than he expected, knocking him back two steps.
Barry watched from above. Quiet. Not judging, just watching.
Billy tried to catch his breath, shaking out his arms.
"You're too tense," Barry called. "Relax your stance. Don't wait for her to hit you—read her."
Billy grumbled. "Easy for you to say…"
Still, he listened.
Dropped his shoulders. Loosened his knees.
Frost smiled. Just a little.
She moved again.
This time, Billy didn't swing wildly. He waited. Stepped aside as her staff sliced down. It scraped the floor. He pivoted. Threw a short jab to her side. It landed—barely—but it landed.
Frost stepped back, touched her ribs. "There you go."
Billy blinked. "Wait… I hit you?"
"You hit me," she confirmed. "Don't get cocky."
He was already smiling like an idiot.
Cisco laughed from the bench, towel over his head. "Kid's growing up."
"Shut up," Billy shot back.
Then—whoosh.
Frost came in again.
Billy's smile vanished. He ducked the first swing, side-stepped the second. Got clipped in the shoulder by the third. He winced but didn't fall. He spun, caught her wrist, and shoved her back.
For a second—just a second—he looked like a fighter.
Barry nodded.
But then Frost turned her palm over, cold mist swirling.
"Level two," she warned.
Before Billy could answer, she slammed the staff into the ground. Ice erupted beneath his feet, slick and fast. He lost balance and landed flat on his back with a thud.
"Okay," he wheezed. "Ow."
She leaned over him, hair brushing forward. "Better. But you still hesitate."
He stared up at her, catching his breath. "I'm… twelve."
She raised a brow. "So?"
Billy groaned. "Can't wait to be an adult…"
Frost offered a hand. He took it. She pulled him up with one arm like it was nothing.
Barry stepped down from the platform, slow and calm.
"You're improving," he said. "But you still think too much."
Billy wiped sweat off his face. "Thinking keeps me alive."
Barry shrugged. "Not when she's coming at you like a damn ghost."
Frost gave a small grin. "He's not wrong."
Billy looked between them. "Do you two enjoy this?"
"Honestly?" Cisco called from the corner. "Yeah, kinda."
Billy threw his hands up. "Psychos. All of you."
But his smile was creeping back.
Barry clapped his shoulder. "Take five."
Billy dropped to the floor, legs sprawled out, breathing heavy but content.
Frost stepped back to the sidelines, grabbing a water bottle.
For a moment, the room was just filled with the sound of breathing and the dull hum of the lights.
Barry walked over to Cisco, grabbed a tablet, and pulled up the training logs.
"Billy's catching on faster than I thought," he said.
Cisco nodded. "Kid's got fight in him. He just doesn't believe it yet."
"And you?"
"I'm fine. Bruised ego. Couple sore ribs. But I'm learning."
Barry looked over at Frost.
"She's the one I'm watching."
Cisco followed his gaze. "You think she'll lose control?"
Barry shook his head. "No. I think she's finally learning how not to."
Frost leaned against the wall, eyes half-closed, letting the cold mist seep from her fingers in gentle waves. Controlled. Focused. She looked calm.
But Barry knew better.
She wasn't calm.
She was trying.
And trying counted for something.
---
Outside the training room, a shadow moved past the corridor.
Linda.
She was out of the cell.
Technically, she had permission. Barry had unlocked the door days ago. Said she could walk around, stretch her legs, as long as she didn't touch the exit.
She hadn't.
Now, she watched through the glass.
Billy laughed. Cisco tossed him a cold drink. Frost rolled her eyes but looked… relaxed.
Linda pressed her hand against the glass.
She didn't know what to make of any of it.
She hadn't smiled in weeks.
But something in her chest—small, buried—twitched.
Something that remembered what it felt like to belong.
To be part of a team.
To be seen.
Barry turned around then.
Saw her through the glass.
He didn't wave.