A/N: Immediately picks up where the finale left off. A look at what the rest of Iris's night might have been like. Enjoy! It's an angst fest, so I hope you brought tissues!
*Many thanks to my incredible beta, sendtherain, as always. :)
*I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.
...
The sudden ceasing of thunder and lightning did not dim the sound of people crying for help in the distance. It didn't halt the sirens of every emergency vehicle in the city coming to the aid of those seriously injured or worse. It didn't stop the speeding of several news vans, eager to capture the story – what had happened and why did it stop? Did the Flash save the city once again? Did Kid Flash help? Where were either of them?
But all Iris could hear in the rush of that continued chaos in the streets was the deafening sound of her heartbeat thudding in her ears, her harsh quick breaths, and the cool tears dripping down her face. The wind blew them dry, but more came. She knew they'd be coming for a while.
"Iris," she heard her father say. A gentle whisper, his hands grasping her arms, urging her to give in to his embrace.
She caved, disbelief washing over her. She felt too numb to speak or push away or run away, almost too weak to even stay standing.
They had just beaten Savitar. They had won. He was dead – gone. They had given HR an honorable funeral. Killer Frost wasn't so killer, even if she wasn't ready to be Caitlin yet either. She wouldn't cause damage. Jay was free. No one was being tormented in the speed force, not even the one most precious to her.
But he was still gone. Barry was gone.
Everyone around her – Cisco, Julian, Wally, Gipsy, Harry… they were all shocked into silence. It was only her dad that offered the slightest bit of movement, trying to pull the group together, even though he was probably breaking just as much as the rest of them. He was probably as close to falling apart as she was. But he comforted her still. He sought her out first, because he knew she was suffering most of all.
"Why don't you come stay with us tonight, baby?"
Iris lifted her head slowly, cautiously, tears shining in her eyes when she looked up at her father.
"And you can stay…" He let the silence linger. She hated the implication. "You can stay as long as you need to."
Iris's gaze shifted to Wally who was now standing alone, barely holding it together himself. He had not only just lost his friend, his mentor, his almost brother-in-law… But he was now charged with being the sole Flash of the city. And on the same day he had to say goodbye to the first man that truly believed in him as a superhero, at least in this timeline.
What a wreck.
Iris didn't turn to face any of the others, especially not Cisco who had lost three friends in one day. She knew they were all suffering losses, and she didn't want to be the strong one and keeping them all together, keeping them all standing. She deserved one moment of weakness. She deserved one night of weakness. Maybe tomorrow she could be strong. Maybe then she'd able to… They'd be able to…
"Iris?"
She blinked and look up at her dad.
Lips parted in a breathy whisper, she said, "No."
He frowned and rubbed his hands up and down her back. "Baby?"
She forced herself to push away from him to make her point. Not so far that she couldn't fall back into those safe arms of his, but enough that she could look him in the eyes with a determination that made it clear he couldn't overrule her.
"I need to go home. My home. Mine and…and B-Barry's."
She hated how her breath caught.
Joe faltered, rendered speechless. But Wally had apparently caught wind of their conversation and approached them slowly.
"You shouldn't be alone tonight, Iris." He swallowed hard. "You should be with your family."
Barry was my family, she wanted to shout, even though she knew they were the blood relatives. But she wanted to scream it anyway.
"No," she said instead. She closed her eyes for a moment, told herself to breathe, and then locked her gaze with her brother's. "Speed me home, Wally. I'll be okay tonight, and I will call you in the morning."
"But Iris—"
"Dad." Her eyes blazed, then softened a beat later when the tears started to spill out again. "I…I-I don't know how long the sheets are going to smell like him."
She started to sob and fell into him. She could sense her father and brother sharing a look, making a decision, and she didn't know whether it would be in her favor or not. She hoped it would. She didn't have the strength to argue.
She felt the gust around her hair, her whole body, gave a choked cry because she knew it was Wally, not Barry. It wouldn't ever be Barry again. Yes, it will. You'll get him back. Somehow, you'll get him out of there.
How?
The voices in her head were silenced.
She lifted her head when she thought she'd recovered enough to stand on her own. Wally was there when she opened her eyes, and she wondered if she'd imagined it, if she'd be imagining things a lot in the coming days.
"You ready?" Wally asked, holding out his hand to her.
She didn't know what for, but hope sparked inside her. There was a look in his eyes that held more assurance than any genie granting a wish possibly could – or anyone else trying to deliver comfort right now.
She looked at her dad one more time. He also gave her a reassuring nod, which sent waves of relief washing over her. He kissed her on the forehead and ran his hands down her arms and back – if you need anything.
She smiled tremulously in return, blinked away a couple more tears, and went to her brother.
In the space of a single breath, Iris was back in the loft with Wally at her side. There were sheets pinned to the windows and the glass scattered across the living room floor had been swept away, explaining that first gust of wind she'd felt. She wasn't imagining things just yet.
Wally didn't say anything as she cautiously made her way into the apartment.
He didn't apologize for not fixing the windows entirely. He didn't say their dad wanted him to check if the apartment was safe enough for her to stay there tonight without worrying about things flying in through the window or a nasty chilled breeze.
That was obviously what had happened, but there was no need to say it. There was no need to say anything.
Iris glanced towards the staircase, thinking about what their bedroom would look and feel like.
"That window wasn't shattered," Wally said quietly, following her line of thought.
She swallowed and nodded.
"Thank you, Wally." She turned to face him and forced another smile as more tears spilled down his face. "Thank you for doing this for me."
He went to her and held her close, let her dissolve in his arms. Her wracking sobs destroyed him, made him feel helpless.
"Are you sure you don't want to stay with us tonight, Iris?"
"No."
"No, you're not sure or no, you are sure that you don't want—"
"No."
He held his breath, not moving, letting her soak his jacket, his shirt. He fought every painful of reminder of what had just happened so he could stay strong for her.
"Do you want me to stay here?" he asked softly.
Iris greeted that question with silence. It was something to consider. It wouldn't require her leaving the loft, and she wondered if she'd need it. Someone strong to hold her. Someone just nearby while she held onto what was left of Barry in their bedroom.
But the shaky sigh against Wally's chest and the side-to-side movement of her head answered for her.
Wally ached for her, but he told himself he would not force the issue. He kissed the side of her face and whispered into her ear, "Okay."
Iris extracted herself a little while later, thanked him for everything once again, and promised she would call him in the morning. He said he'd wait for it. He wouldn't do a thing the next day until he'd heard from her. She didn't argue. Her tear-streaked face smiled back at him as best as she could, because she wanted to show appreciation; wanted him to know he was giving her everything she needed right then and that was more than enough.
Final goodbyes were said, and then he was gone. Her brother was gone. Her fiancé was gone. She was alone in the home she'd known for six months. It was her own choice, and she knew that. She knew she could change it in an instant too. But she didn't want that. She wanted to be alone with her lover in whatever form she could have him. So, she looked towards the staircase again and took the steps one at a time until she reached the top. And then their bedroom. And then their bed.
Her mind flashed to the night before. There had been no reunion sex after the defeat of Savitar. And certainly not before it, what with all the urgency in defeating the corrupted speedster. Which meant it had been roughly 48 hours since Barry Allen had covered every inch of her skin with his own. Forty-eight hours since he'd breathed hot, desirous words against her lips and neck, or sent her into such a haze she was nearly delirious with pleasure. Forty-eight hours since he delivered a corny sexual innuendo or offered a suggestive remark. Forty-eight hours since the heat in his eyes had nearly consumed her.
Because they'd thought they had all the time in the world. And after all their wedding talk tonight…
She choked out a cry and turned away from the bed. She kicked her shoes off and rid herself of her jacket, then went to the bathroom. Her hands braced themselves on the counter as she tried to stay standing, and she stared numbly into the sink, breathing in quick spurts.
Where was Barry to say, "Is everything okay, Iris?"
Where was Barry to wrap his arms around her waist from behind and nuzzle his face into her neck?
Where was Barry to whisper "I love you. Talk to me"?
Iris lifted her head, staring head-on at the vision of herself in the mirror, and hated it. She wanted to destroy it. She envisioned herself finding any manner of things and throwing them at the mirror, creating cracks, seeing shards burst onto the floor, maybe some would hit her and cut her. Maybe she hoped they would. She saw herself screaming too and falling onto the floor in despair, sobbing until there was nothing left in her but ragged light breaths that made her feel more dead than alive and wishing she'd made the transition.
Iris saw all of that and nearly succumbed to it. But when she turned her head to seek something to throw, she spotted the soft fabric of one of Barry's STAR Labs shirts. He'd had it on all of five seconds before he'd shred it to join her in the shower a few days prior - never missing the opportunity to take her when she was naked, especially not in recent weeks. It had been a particularly memorable shower and the shirt had been forgotten where it lay. Iris went to it now, picked it up in her hands and brought it to her face.
It smelled like Barry, and she shivered.
She stripped down to her underwear and put the shirt on over her small frame. It engulfed her, but she loved that about his shirts. And she loved that it smelled like him. She loved that she could pretend it was him wrapping his arms around her as the fabric floated on her skin. She brought the collar of the shirt to her nose again and inhaled it.
"Barry," she whispered breathily and sighed. "Barry."
Iris exited the bathroom and returned to the bed, which was made. She didn't like that, but she decided not to dwell on it. She could only be grateful they hadn't washed their bedding today. Such a simple thing as that might have destroyed her.
As Wally had said, the window wasn't shattered. The bedroom in its entirety looked exactly as she – they, her and Barry – had left it. She could almost pretend nothing had happened and Barry was just late coming home. Maybe he was being the Flash, saving people, and when she woke up in the morning, or even in the middle of the night, he'd be right there beside her. His breath would be heavy on her neck or shoulder or face, his arm wrapped around her middle or between her legs if he decided to tease her awake.
She could pretend whatever she wanted just by looking at the room the way it was now.
That in mind, she padded over to her side of the bed. She pulled back the covers, slipped beneath them and then slid halfway across the bed. This way she could pretend she was just waiting for him, and she could still smell him. She could snuggle into his pillow. She could dip her hand into the body print he had made the night before. She could let memories of Barry, new and old, recreate his presence in her mind. One that would feel so real she could believe it was, so the night wouldn't torment her with the reality of what had happened and what her life was now.
Those last words to her. The ones that had broken her right before he left.
I gotta go.
They didn't exist tonight. They weren't real. Different ones were. Ones that made her feel happy and alive and complete and hopeful for a fresh new future.
Are you ready to be Iris West-Allen?
Always.
She would always be his. She always had been. And he wasn't gone for good. He just left to save someone…or many someones. But he was going to come back to her. He'd promised her that. Maybe not tonight, but enough times to count for eternity.
I plan on spending a long life with you, and nothing is going to take that away from me.
"The sound of my voice, Barry…"
The melody of the memory wafted through her fading consciousness as her fingers gently traced the line of his pillow.
"It always brings you back to me, remember? It always brings you home."