In the dark charade of the caged cells, in the presence of the sinister Man in Yellow, Iris tries to pinpoint a time she had ever experienced fear and uncertainty like that currently stirring in her stomach.
"Tough as nails, that Iris West," was commonly uttered in the hallways of CCPN, so much that the description eventually found its way to her ears, filling her with pride. That same demeanor was the reason she could challenge the likes of Cisco Ramon as well as her own overbearing father. It was why she could be the authority her impulsive, often naive brother needed in his dangerous quests to protect the city.
Iris isn't accustomed to such vulnerability. But two days with Barry Allen had transformed her.
The change is too profound, and coupled with his sad apology, with his wistful tone, it compels the words out of her mouth.
"Will I know when things change back?" she asks Barry timidly, surprised at the small of her voice. And then perhaps the more important question: "Will I feel it?"
Sympathy floods his handsome face, and Iris is startled by how much his expression affects her. For a moment she wishes her curiosity didn't get the best of her, wishes she didn't ask anything, wishes she didn't elicit such tangible regret from him. Witnessing his sorrow torments her, even though she understands it's in response to harm he unintentionally caused her, even if she's aware she's justified in her apprehension. She can't stand to see him so troubled, and that's the true source of her heartache.
This is what love feels like, Iris, she reminds herself. And as much as it hurts, she doesn't know if she would trade this throbbing empathy for the vacancy in her life before Barry Allen tapped her on the shoulder at Jitters mere days ago.
"It'll be like it never happened," Barry promises her. It's difficult to tell if this is assuring or tragic: she takes the objectivity of his murmur as an indication that he's leaving that inference to her.
Tragic, she decides. Now that she's fallen in love with Barry, how will she tolerate his absence? She changes her mind: assuring. Wally will be healthy again, and she won't even remember Barry. Tragic, she reverts. The concept of his nonexistence, the erasure of the wonder and warmth she felt at his side, along with the disappearance of her own life, her own memories, her own sense of self before him is the worst realization of all.
But she won't torture him further. After all, he still loved her despite not being the Iris he knows and remembers, despite not being his Iris, she thinks with a twisted kind of envy.
If he loves her like she loves him, which she doesn't doubt, then she vows not to break him anymore than he already is. She puts on a brave face for him, nods, even smiles.
But she also loves him too much to not stand on her toes, close her eyes, and press her mouth to his.
Barry kisses her back, barely, but his soft lips gently brush the shy skin between her nose and upper lip. It's chaste, but somehow more charged, more intense, more stirring than the touch of any past lover. She's not even sure she can call them lovers anymore, not after meeting Barry.
She indulges herself by taking in his face, allows herself this last luxury of basking in his features. The way his brows knit and his lashes sweep and his lips purse tells her their kiss must have impacted him as much as it did her.
He really loves his Iris, she marvels. Then perhaps more striking: He really loves me.
His emerald gaze is on her again, and it's so heartening that she smiles. It's the reminder she needs that their paths are still meant to cross, albeit in a different timeline, but that doesn't matter to her, as long as what she feels for him is unaltered.
"I'll see you soon." She plans to honor this vow, and judging by his gentle nod and the slight sparkle in his eye that appears when his lips turn upward, he also plans to.
She watches Barry walk away from her with less anticipation than she felt walking in with him, starts to feel better about letting him go, until he loses his balance and stumbles.
There goes fear, coursing through her again. Love was harder than she thought.
"Barry-" she breathes, her feet instinctively propelling her toward where he's on the ground.
"Stand back!" The Man in Yellow warns savagely, grabbing Barry by the neck and disappearing with him, leaving behind thin, empty air. Suddenly she's overcome with a horrible dread that a nearly powerless Barry is at the mercy of this speedster. Is he going to be okay? she ponders frantically. How will I even know?
She can't contemplate his safety though, because abruptly, as quickly as Thawne and Barry vanished, she's struck with a piercing ache so excruciating that she falls to her knees, clutching her chest.
"Will I feel it?"
It's an answer she didn't realize she wouldn't want.