Her footsteps were soft along the damp sand, and children giggled loudly around as they blew bubbles and darted through the surf.

Iris inhaled the salty-sweet breeze as she stopped at one particular spot in the shoreline, where the beautiful cliffs could be seen acting as a wall against crashing waves, and the gulls didn't haggle around as much.

This was their spot, wasn't it?

The spot Barry said his parents always brought him to for picnics, when he was young?

The same spot where he had brought Joe and Iris, when he began living with them and Joe suggested they visit the beach one June? Iris closed her eyes and she could practically see him - he was slightly shorter than her at the time, and his wispy brown hair flipped around in the wind as he excitedly had grabbed her hand and ran to this same spot in swimming trunks, carrying a plastic shovel and pail in the other hand.

It was the first time he had smiled at their home in months, following the tragic death of his mother.

Iris dropped to the sand, remembering how grateful she had felt to see him smile after all that time.

She and Barry had both giggled mischievously as they spent an hour burying Joe's body under the sand as he napped, and guffawed like toddlers when he woke up in surprise, frozen under sheets of the stuff. They raced along the shoreline hand-in-hand, collecting beautiful seashells to take home to the city, and Barry had shrieked in fright when he picked up a shiny pink shell and a hermit crab emerged, clawing softly at his wrist. They ate home-made tuna sandwiches for lunch and built the most amazing sandcastle together, "aww"ing in disappointing when a large wave broke it down. Iris had giggled when Barry refused to put on sunblock and his pale skin slowly turned crisp red - but he had smiled it off and told her he was fine, and put his shirt back on to avoid Joe's chiding. Joe brought them both giant ice cream cones to enjoy as they watched the sun set, the sky's faint blue tinting wild orange as the sun dipped behind the water's horizon, and they both fell asleep in the car on the long drive back home.

That trip had become a yearly event in Joe's household.

Sure, they became kind of awkward during middle school and high school, when Barry felt really shy because of the headgear he was forced to wear for braces and had a really bad lisp. To make it worse, his growth spurts betrayed him, and while he was easily taller than most other kids in their school, he was unbelievably clumsy and accident-prone. With his delicate, sensitive personality, the ginormous braces and the button-up shirts that grew small too quickly on his wiry thin frame, he was easily labeled the class dork. Iris could've cared less for it, giving those who picked on him her best 'if you mess with him, you mess with me, and that is not the road you want to go down, pal' glower. He may have been a dork regardless, but he was still her friend. Iris drew the line when Barry began bringing notebooks, magnifying glasses and pens with him, asking Iris to help him document the various species of algae, kelp and seashells they'd see, but it usually only took an irritated throw of a beach ball to get him to stop being a geek and enjoy the trip.

Fast forward to their college years, and this trip became indescribable. It didn't feel magical or romantic at the time, just uncomfortable and stiff at the time. They'd always been the best of friends, but academics and extracurriculars pulled them away from one another. Iris grew as a social butterfly, with club meetings to attend and events to plan, and Barry shelled himself in as a lab geek. He wanted to go into forensics, he'd told her. Unfortunately, his workload usually holed him up in one lab or another, dealing his way through projects and internships, and Iris pouted when he'd gently refuse to come to formals she'd help plan, pinning the blame on science fairs or whatnot. This trip was the ugly get-together and confrontation with each other they both needed badly.

They hardly spoke a word to one another in the car. Joe said nothing about it, but he had definitely noticed, because he made a point to walk away from them both once they'd arrived. He was under the influence that Iris and Barry needed to work out whatever was keeping them distant from each other, because he couldn't stand to see his kids not talking anymore.

They'd sat in silence, right here, in this same spot where she stood now, on top of towels, staring out at the waves beside each other. Barry awkwardly handed her a tuna sandwich from the picnic basket as an ice-breaker. Iris took it from him, and as they ate, he started babbling to her about some really interesting solution he had made in an organic chemistry lab, and about all its uses and how surprised his professor was that he'd conjured it through some weird process that had taken only minutes. Iris smiled weakly and confessed that she couldn't keep up with much of what he was saying, but Barry had laughed and touched her shoulder, telling her that having her beside him was enough.

Iris remembered swallowing the lump in her throat, and Barry's brows creased. He'd asked her what was wrong, and she uncomfortably admitted that her boyfriend from high school had broken up with her. She remembered secretly thinking she'd ruined their trip for telling him that. They'd driven four hours out of the city to spend the day here together after so long apart, and now he was listening to her moping. But she had to open up to someone, Iris remembered thinking, and dammit, she hated how she felt after that jarheaded jock had broken up with her.

Barry listened intently. Iris remembered that him listening had been the most comforting part of seeing him again. He'd said nothing, but he'd placed an arm over her shoulders to comfort her, and hastily began blurting about how Iris could do so much better, and that the other guy had to be the biggest idiot around for giving her up. Iris had laughed, and Barry had pulled her up to her feet, and when Joe returned, he found them both on their butts laughing their heads off after an embarrassing loss at a beach volleyball game against some other college kids.

They'd gone on a long walk together after that, just Iris and Barry. Iris traced her footsteps with her memories, taking herself on that walk again, alone now.

They ended up at a cliffside cove, where Iris stood now. They talked about Iris's college journalism stint, and about other things. Barry had fallen awkwardly quiet when Iris had taken his hand in hers. She'd noticed too. Iris cracked a joke to fill the awkward silence, and he'd smiled softly. Barry had picked up a jagged piece of rock off the ground and began absent-mindedly scratching it into the wall, while she continued talking to him.

Her heart had skipped a beat when she'd looked back at the wall and saw their initials carved into the side of the cliff. She recalled feeling so confused, she hadn't even mentioned it and couldn't even wrap her head around what it could've meant, but looking back, it all made sense.

Joe was worried sick when they'd returned, hours later. It was past nightfall. He'd searched for them for hours and had even called the coast guard. Barry held his hands up in surrender and coughed up an excuse to cover for them both, but Joe was irrevocably upset and worried. Disappointed, Joe ended their trip right there, scolding Barry in the car ride back for disappearing like so without his phone or telling Joe. Barry had said nothing, only threw Iris sheepish, blushing smiles from across their seats in the van.

Then there was that horrible summer when Barry couldn't make it to their annual beach trip.

Neither Iris nor Joe even bothered to bring the trip up.

Eddie was there, with kind encouraging smiles and hugs. He'd whisked Iris away to that beach anyway to surprise her.

But it wasn't the beach that Iris missed.

It was Barry.

Her life had lost color after he'd fallen into his coma. The sun wasn't as bright, the coffee not as perky, her laughter no longer sweet.

When he'd woken up, he'd become the city's hero.

Silent nameless visits atop roofs, after dark. She was smitten with the city's superhero, she admitted to herself one morning. Heroic feats of speed and lightning along with secret midnight encounters kept her up at wondering who it was under that mask who was so worried about her.

It was Barry, caught in a battle against the demonic, calculating metahuman who had killed his mother to ruin his life, so many years later.

It was a world of lightning and betrayal, and fear. But Barry powered through it. He had help from Cisco and Caitlin, her father and herself. Eddie and Ronnie both died, there were metahumans invading from a parallel universe through breaches. She had a younger brother. Iris's life was changed instantly the moment Barry had woken from his coma, when he'd returned to her.

Iris understood why Barry had gone back in time to save his parents now, why he created Flashpoint. She sat down in the sand again, shaking lightly as tears burned in her eyes.

She could feel the gripping loss, the hollowness, the same pain that he had felt. It was different, sharper than when she had lost Eddie, even more grating than when she had lost her mother. The grief followed her every step after the speed force storm, when she had watched Barry walk into the portal. His apologetic smile haunted her when she cried herself to sleep at night, alone in their bed.

She too would've done anything to bring Barry back, no matter the risk.

But he had told her to stay strong.

He would've hated himself for leaving if he knew the state he had left her in.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a beach ball bumping into her feet. A few feet away, a young Hisoanic boy wearing floaties around his arms and an Asian girl with thick pigtails studied her sheepishly.

Iris mustered a polite smile and rolled the ball back to the children, sadness stinging inside of her as she recalled her last trip to the beach - alone with Barry, when he'd proposed to her. His smile was innocently giddy as they held hands. He'd told her he had been waiting to marry her for all his life, and Iris had kissed his cheek. He had wrapped his hand around her back as she rested her head against his shoulder, sitting in their spot. They listened to the waves crash and the laughter of parents chasing after their kids. Barry had blushed when Iris said something to him about having kids, something about how full their hands would be if their kids were born as speedsters as well. He had cracked a corny joke, Iris had laughed, and he'd pulled her in for more kisses.

As the two children ran off and chuckled loudly, tossing the ball between each other, Iris silently found herself praying that they would never face the same fate she and Barry had gone through, that they would never lose each other like she and Barry had.

Her father didn't say much nowadays. He was quiet. He trembled when someone at work asked him where Barry was, and mumbled an excuse before leaving the room. Wally spent his time beating his fists against punching bags, racing relentlessly through the Speed Lab. He pushed himself until he was ready to pass out, and despite warning him not to over-exert himself, Iris understood the pain all too well. Barry wasn't here to mentor him anymore. He was under pressure to live up to the Flash's mantle. Wally was on his own now. He was grieving.

The entire family had lost Barry. Her father, Wally, Cisco, Caitlin, Julian - they all lost their Barry, their friend, their leader, their hero.

Iris let the waves wash over her legs, unable to find peace in the coolness of the sea.

Barry had been taken away from her. It was as simple as that.

All he had wanted was a life with Iris. He fought through the whole mess with Savitar, with Flashpoint, to keep her alive, and in the end, the tables turned against her. He was taken from her. His smile, his embrace, his courage and kindness, his kind but dorky laugh, the crinkles around his eyes when he smiled at her - they were all gone. They had all been taken away from her.

The ocean's white foam entangled a piece of kelp around her leg. Iris picked it off of herself, unamused.

She traced Barry's name in the sand with her fingertip, internally holding onto each syllable of his name, the name of her future husband. He needed to come back. He had too.

He would.

Bartholomew Henry Allen, her handwriting read in the sand.

There was a solace to his name. A reassurance of love, and peace, and eternity.

The waves washed ashore, and took that away from her as well.

Thank you for reading! Please leave a review with your thoughts on your way out!

- DBV