Come Back to Me
Iris was curled up in one of the comparatively comfortable armchairs in the university library, a textbook open in her lap, but she wasn't really focusing on the words. Outside, she could hear the rumble of distant thunder and the patter of raindrops against the roof. Lightning flashed, casting menacing shadows on the rows of books lining the walls. Sitting back in her chair, she let her book fall closed as she strained to listen for the next rumble of thunder. She turned her head to peer out the window, watching to see the sky light up once more. She loved storms and had ever since she was a little girl.
She let her mind drift, getting lost in her thoughts as the storm rolled in fast. Then, another flash of light, this one brighter than the last, caused her to frown. There had been something disconcerting about it, but she couldn't put her finger on what. It was followed closely by a rumble of thunder; the storm was almost on top of her, now.
The rain grew harder, beating against the glass. The next bolt of lightning was so bright, it made her wince, and she turned her face away from the glare just as a rumble of thunder so loud she could swear she felt it in her bones shook the building. She let out a startled shriek, her hand flying to her mouth to muffle the sound.
And that's when her phone rang. The sound, echoing in the sudden silence following the thunder's roar, made her heart jump in her chest. Her arm flung out as she reached to answer the call, but her momentary fright made her suddenly clumsy, and she knocked it off the arm of the chair and onto the floor, instead.
Rolling her eyes at her own absurdity, she swooped to answer and saw her dad's name on the Caller ID. While she was normally thrilled to talk to her father, she was still embarrassed at her own foolishness – even if there had been few people around in the nearly-empty library to see it – and so her voice was a little sharper than usual when she answered. "Hello?"
His voice was curt, worry evident in every word. "Iris? You need to get to the hospital. There's been an accident Barry's been struck by lightning. He's…he's in pretty bad shape."
The phone slipped through fingers that had suddenly gone numb, falling into her lap. Later, she would have very vague memories of what happened next – her mad scramble towards the door, her race across the few miles between library and hospital as she disregarded all speed limits in her hurry to get to her best friend's side.
That was the moment she came to hate thunderstorms. She would never revel in their unbridled beauty again.
A team of doctors surrounded Barry, trying to get him stabilized. Iris watched in horror as the machines hooked up to him flat-lined and she realized his heart had stopped. She thought she might have screamed as she lunged towards him, but her father held her back.
Rationally, she understood why. Barry needed medical attention, and she'd only be in the way. But, still, deep down, she knew if she could just talk to him, she could make everything all right.
She hated her dad in that moment.
How many times did she lose Barry that night? How many times did she watch the doctors pull him from the brink of death, only to see him slip over the edge again?
Every time, she swore a piece of her died along with him.
Several hours later, she found herself at his bedside – finally. He was still hooked up to machines that monitored his heart, and she stared in rapt attention at the regular pattern of his heartbeat. Praying it not to go flat again. Daring it to defy her.
And yet she was oddly numb, as she reached out and grabbed his hand. Her father stood at her side, one hand on her shoulder as he spoke softly to the man he loved like a son. But Iris didn't hear his words. She couldn't even bring herself to cry anymore. Instead, she stared at that monitor, at the steady rhythm of his heart.
She couldn't lose him again.
Iris didn't know how much time had passed, except that there was light outside which meant it had to be morning, at least. Neither she nor Joe had slept since coming to the hospital, and her dad was down at the cafeteria, grabbing them both a fortifying cup of coffee. She was alone with Barry for the first time since seeing him be wheeled in on a gurney.
She stared at the lines of his face, peaceful in repose. But she couldn't forget what the doctors had told her – had it only been a few hours before? The damage to his heart was likely significant, although they would know more after a few tests. They would also have to check for brain damage, which was likely, under the circumstances. But they wouldn't likely know the extent of any such damage until he awoke from his coma.
If he awoke from his coma. They couldn't say for certain that he ever would.
She sucked in a shaky breath and very gently brushed his hair back from his face. "Barry?" she began in a tremulous voice, but the only response was the steady rhythmic whirring made by the machines monitoring his vitals. Although she kept her voice low, it still seemed unnaturally loud, echoing through the small, impersonal space. She reached for his hand and squeezed it, but there was no reassuring squeeze in return.
"The doctors say you've been through a lot and you may not be out of the woods, yet, so your body has – so you've shut down a little to give your body a chance to recover. And-and that's okay. I don't want you to worry, because I know you're going to be okay. And Dad and I are going to be here for you until you get better. We'll take care of everything. All you have to do is get better, okay? Just –"
Her lower lip trembled, and she bit it hard. She was trying to be strong for him; she didn't know whether or not he could hear her, but if he was aware of his situation at all, he would almost certainly be scared, and she wanted to reassure him. But her eyes stung with unshed tears, and even though she tried to remain in control, her breathing grew ragged and her knees gave out beneath her. She sank into the chair beside his bed and clutched his hand, desperate for any kind of sign that her best friend was still in there, somewhere.
"I don't – I don't even know if you can hear this, but…But, please…Barry, you have to wake up, okay?" Her voice cracked. "We were going to go to the movie marathon at the Vogue next weekend, and I know how much you've been looking forward to it. We were –" She stopped and shook her head. She was being foolish – thinking these things would somehow convince him to come out of his coma. Her voice dropped as she pleaded, "Don't leave me. I just – I can't lose you. You've been my best friend for so long, I c-can't imagine my life without you in it, s-so please…" Tears spilled freely over her cheeks, and she struggled to talk over her ragged breaths. She started to massage the hand she held in her own. "Come back to me, okay? Just come back to me."
She squeezed his hand again, praying for a response. But his hand remained motionless in hers. Iris bowed her head and wept.
Iris groaned and dropped the book she'd been reading into her lap, shooting a quick glare at the man lying motionless in bed. "Barry, you better be glad I love you as much as I do because this book is boring." She frowned and considered the item in question. "Although you did have it on your bedside table. I wonder if the point wasn't to bore you to sleep," she mused reflectively. "In which case, this is probably self-defeating."
Stifling a yawn, she glanced at her watch. When she saw the time, she grimaced. "Anyway, I need to head to work." Remembering something, she groaned and added, "And then I'm meeting that new detective for coffee. I probably should have picked a different day, since I'm gonna be wiped after my shift, but I figured I should thank him for what he did. And it might help me take my mind off…things," she added as an afterthought.
If only Detective Thawne had been there the night of Barry's accident, as he'd come to the rescue the night Iris's laptop had been stolen. If only anybody had been there. Maybe things would have turned out differently, and her best friend would be awake and teasing her right now, instead of remaining in a persistent coma.
As she shrugged into her coat, she walked up to his hospital bed and reflexively brushed his hair back off his forehead before running her fingers down his cheek. He still didn't stir. She sighed, letting her happy mask fall away as she stared down at him. Her voice dropped into a husky murmur as she repeated the plea that had become almost a ritual at this point. "Come on, Barry, come out of this. Come back to me."
"Okay, the guy they got to step in for you at work is a jerk and an idiot. You can tell him I said that, when you wake up. Dad's making sure they hold your job for you and everything, but you still better come back to me soon, or I'm gonna strangle him."
He probably wasn't really as horrible as she thought he was. He just wasn't Barry, and she couldn't forgive him for that.
She smiled brightly as she strode briskly into the room. "It's snowing outside," she remarked cheerfully – as always, hoping he could hear her, that some of her words would get through. For the first month or so, she'd been uncomfortable chattering at him about such mundane details. Now she made mental notes about day-to-day things she would to tell him when she saw him in the hospital. It was her way to try to keep his connection to her daily life – she told him things they would have talked about when he was awake and tried to ignore the pain she felt inside when the conversation remained firmly one-sided.
"Remember the time a couple years ago, when we were supposed to meet dad for dinner, but you and I were fooling around on the way there and I shoved you into a snow bank? And then you, being a goof, pulled me down and we got distracted making snow angels and ended up being late? It's the perfect weather out for playing in the snow; if you wake up right now, I'm sure I can talk your doctors into letting you go outside for a few minutes so you can enjoy it."
Her smile slipped a fraction when he didn't move. Somehow, she couldn't entirely manage to keep herself from having hope that one of these days, he would give some slight sign of recognition or response.
When she was walking up to the house after leaving the hospital later that night, she stopped and considered the thick blanket of snow covering her yard. With a whoop of laughter, she threw herself onto the pristine white expanse and waved her arms and legs. She made two snow angels, side by side; it made her feel like Barry was there with her, and she smiled.
Iris stared at the ticking clock on the wall and tried not to scream. Her father stood beside her, his arms crossed belligerently as he faced off against a doctor in a white coat. "I understand what you're trying to say," she heard him say and could hear how hard he was struggling to remain calm. "But we're not giving up on him yet."
"Ever," Iris interjected, her voice a harsh rasp. "We're never giving up on him! He wouldn't give up on us!"
Her dad's eyes were sad when he looked at her, and he put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Although his words were meant for the doctor, he kept his attention on his daughter as he said soothingly, "You said he could wake up at any time. Well, we're going to give him more time."
"All right," the doctor replied. "Then I want to talk to you about a request we received from Dr. Wells at S.T.A.R. Labs…
"I'll be by a bit later tomorrow. After my shift, I have a date with Eddie. You'll have to meet him sometime. He's a great guy; I think you'd like him a lot."
When she was with Eddie, he took her to places that didn't remind her of Barry. And, for a little while, at least, she could pretend that he was safe and happy at home, and not lying in a hospital bed.
"I saw a guy in town today and could have sworn it was you. I know it isn't fair, but I could just yell at you right now for leaving me like this!" She didn't know which had been harder to take – the way her heart had leapt hopefully in her chest when she thought she saw Barry out on the street, or the crushing disappointment she'd experienced when she'd realized it wasn't him, after all.
"Happy birthday!" Iris half-called, half-sang as she strode into the room. The facilities at S.T.A.R. Labs were state-of-the-art, she was sure, but room was also cold and impersonal. At the very least, it could use a window, she thought with a slight frown. But, on the other hand, if they could figure out how to heal Barry – wake him up from his coma – she would happily forego a lot more than sunlight and fresh air.
She stopped next to his bed and gave a furtive glance around, looking for either of the doctors who had been overseeing Barry's condition. Nobody was in sight, so she reached into her bag and pulled out a carefully wrapped package.
"I brought you something for your birthday, but it's our little secret," she said in a voice barely above a whisper as she perched on the edge of his bed. Unwrapping her contraband, she waved it under his nose.
She stared at him for a long minute, but not even the double fudge brownie with nuts – his favorite – seemed able to get through to him. Her smile falling a fraction, she sighed. "All right, well, if you don't want it, I guess I'll have to eat it," she said with reluctance that was only somewhat feigned. She took a big bite of the brownie.
Later that day, before she left, she impulsively bent and brushed her lips against his cheek in a light kiss. "Happy birthday, Barry," she murmured. "When you wake up, I'll make you many batches of brownies as you want, okay? Just…you've been gone a long time, and I miss you. Come back to me."
"They had a lecture at the university last night that I know you would have loved. It was all about theoretical physics and time travel," she said as she pulled a notebook out of her bag. "Happily for you, you have a pretty awesome best friend because I went and took notes so you wouldn't miss it."
She opened the notebook and stared at the scrawled words on the page. "Of course, most of what they said didn't make a lot of sense to me, but I'll read you what I have. And when you wake up, you can explain it so I can understand it, too."
Iris awoke with a crick in her neck and grimaced as she stretched. She hadn't meant to fall asleep in the chair by Barry's bed, but it wasn't the first time she'd done so – and she doubted it would be the last. This time, she'd been plagued by disturbing dreams, in which she kept trying to get through to Barry, but he couldn't seem to hear her and every time she reached for him, he slipped out of her reach.
It didn't take a psychology major to work out the hidden meaning of that dream.
As she stretched, she considered the peaceful lines of his face and mused, "I wonder what you're dreaming about, in there. I hope it's something nice, at least."
She leaned in and murmured, "You probably already know what I'm going to say, but I'm going to say it anyway because I keep hoping one of these days it'll get through. Come back to me, Barry Allen. The world is passing you by while you're lying there, dreaming. You've been sleeping long enough, and I miss you more every day."
"It's my birthday today, Barry? Know what I'm wishing for? Yeah, I bet you do," she conceded in a soft tone. "All I want for my birthday is to have you back." Deep in her heart, she was starting to fear that this was one wish that would never come true.
She sighed and covered her face with her hands, rubbing the headache that pounded in her temple as she tried not to cry. "I've had an awful day and could really use you right now."
He was slipping away from her, she could feel it. Little by little. It had taken a long time for her to stop reaching for the phone throughout the day to call him – feeling the sharp stab of heartache every time, when she remembered the man on the other end of the line could no longer answer. It had taken even longer to stop looking for him in a crowd or expecting to see his name on her caller I.D.
Now, when she came across something funny, or sad, or strange – or when she just wanted to talk – she remembered all too quickly that she couldn't call him and called Eddie, instead.
Barry was slipping away from her, and she didn't know how to stop it.
Iris paused uncertainly in the doorway. "I-I'm sorry. Did I come at a bad time?"
Dr. Wells turned in his wheelchair. When he saw her, he smiled and said warmly, "Not at all; I was just checking on a couple of things."
She entered cautiously. Although Barry had been in the care of S.T.A.R. Labs for some time, this was the first time she had spent any time one-on-one with Dr. Wells; although she had seen him a few times in passing, most of her interactions had been with Dr. Ramon and Dr. Snow. She didn't know entirely what to think of the somewhat reclusive older man in front of her.
Before she could ponder the matter further, he spoke. "You've been visiting Barry regularly since he was transferred here, haven't you? The two of you must be good friends."
"We are," she replied. After a brief pause, she murmured miserably, "Or we were." The notion that had once been so unthinkable to her – that Barry might never come out of this coma – had grown in her mind over time until now it seemed a terrifyingly real possibility.
Her companion stared at her a long time, his gaze so piercing, she felt almost like he could see right through her, into the secret fears she'd been trying so hard to hide. He was silent, as though he was waiting for something, and when he spoke again, his voice was kind, "I'm sure this has been very hard, for you and your father. If there's anything we can do to help –"
"Do you think he can really hear us?" she blurted, cutting him off.
He cocked his head to the side, considering the question. "Nobody knows for sure," he admitted. "Some coma patients have awoken with no memory of anything that transpired while they were asleep. Others have claimed they had some level of consciousness – either snippets of conversations they claim to have overheard, or just some sort of awareness of others in the room. As far as what level of awareness, if any, Barry has, I'm afraid there's no way to know until he wakes up."
Iris bowed her head, considering his words. It was what she'd expected, but she'd still hoped he could somehow tell her more. Still, she'd appreciated his honesty; it gave her the courage to ask the question that had been gnawing away at her bit by bit, tearing her up inside. "And what about that? I know the doctors said he could at any time, but…" she took a deep breath and tried again. "If he doesn't wake up…I mean, if he can't…is there any way you would know…" Her voice trailed off; she was unable to speak the fear that haunted her.
"Is there any way we would know for sure if he isn't going to?" her companion asked, his voice gently. Feeling miserable, she nodded, the movement jerky. He looked away from her and sighed. "I understand why you're asking, and we may have to address that one day." He paused and leaned towards her until he caught her eye. "But we are not there yet. I know he's been in a coma for a long time – nine months – but believe me when I say he can still wake up."
Dr. Wells paused and wheeled himself around to face his patient. "Barry has been a remarkable man so far. He's survived something not many would. I think he has it in him to surprise us all."
Feeling dreadful, Iris nodded. She still had hope, but the very fact that she'd been starting to wonder if he would ever wake up made her feel horribly disloyal. "Thank you, doctor. I-I should go." She practically raced to the door.
Iris was at the tail end of a long shift, counting down the minutes until she could leave. She hadn't been able to make it out to S.T.A.R. Labs in the last couple of days, so she planned to run by after work to see Barry.
She leaned down to refresh a customer's cup, when movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She looked up and watched as a man approached the front door. Convinced her eyes were playing tricks on her because he had just been on her mind, she stared for a long second, almost overfilling the cup as she braced and waited for reality to hit and break her heart again.
He walked in and she blinked, unable still to believe the sight in front of her. Tears filled her eyes as she raised her hands to her face She was shaking. "Oh, my god!" she whimpered as she raced forward, completely forgetting the customers around her – or anything else, for that matter.
The only thing she cared about was Barry, standing in front of her with that grin she loved but was afraid she'd never see again. She still wasn't convinced it was real; as she raced towards him, she still felt afraid that she would wake up in a moment and realize it was just a dream, like a hundred dreams she'd had before. Barry would still be lost in his coma, too far out of her reach for her to get through to him.
But then she threw herself against his chest and she felt his arms go around her, lifting her off the ground, and she felt she could breathe again. She actually had to pull away from him for a moment just to get a look at him, to know without a doubt that it was true.
She almost couldn't believe it, but there he was. Barry Allen. Her best friend and the man she loved more than almost anyone else in the world. He was actually there, standing in front of her.
He'd come back to her at last.