Hello again! This fic was a spontaneous idea a few months ago, which blossomed into something much longer than originally intended, but I'm very excited to share another multi-chapter fic with you all. Because I'm obviously very interested in alternate timelines and because I apparently like making myself sad, I wanted to explore the aftermath of the tsunami in 1x15. This fic is very Iris and Caitlin centric, but there will be love for our other favorite characters in one form or another later on.

This takes place in the original timeline immediately following 1x15, so spoilers through that episode. Also very mild spoilers through the season 1 finale as we move further through the story.

Without further ado, let the angst fest begin!

"I'm sorry. I didn't want you to find out this way."

For a moment, the wind and the taste of a rainstorm lingered in Iris' senses. Storm clouds thundered overhead, but the depth of the kiss, the way everything seemed to explode around her as Barry's hands cupped her face, overwhelmed even the elements. Instead of drowning, she felt inexplicably that she'd been pulled to safety, oxygen rushing into her lungs.

Then things changed in an instant, and Barry was no longer there—in his place was the man in the red suit, the one she'd helped build, the one she'd helped create.

"Go."

He was gone.

His image lingered in front of her even as he disappeared in a burst of lightning. Her friend, her Barry, standing there on the grass, clothed in red from head to toe. A mask drawn low over his eyes, his stance more confident than she'd ever seen before.

And vanished, fittingly, in a flash.

She would've liked to say that she'd known all along. She would've liked to say that she'd felt it long before now, even from the moment that he'd been struck by that lightning. All of those months in the hospital bed, all of those months wondering and worrying. She would've liked to say that those months meant something.

The truth was, seeing Barry and the Flash merge before her very eyes, especially after the mind-melting kiss that preceded it, hit her like a tidal wave.

Also, fittingly.

As the very real tidal wave made its approach, she dashed up the slopes along with the dozens of other people who were trying to get to safety. They didn't know that the Flash was in their midst, not yet, and their screams reflected the unknown. They would know soon enough, though, when the Flash-when Barry-stopped the wave.

Because he always did. He always saved the day. Iris realized that now. Her Barry always saved the day.

At the top of the hill, she turned around to face the oncoming storm.

It had grown since she and Barry had first seen it, since he'd called Caitlin-it was all coming together now, the STAR labs team and Barry and the Flash-and the sky was now almost entirely gray. The tidal wave, a sheet of smoky glass engulfing the horizon, approached steadily.

And there, on the beach, was what she had always recognized as the streak. A blur of movement. No color from this far away, just speed. The remnants of speed, the dust particles and sand that took to the air around the line of movement that Barry was creating. He picked up momentum and the line grew more solid, back and forth along the beach, where there would surely be evidence of his run for days to come before the normal tide washed it away. By then, Central City would have recognized the feat, and they would be broadcasting their hero on every station.

A wind column, or a wind barrier, rose up. It, too, was barely visible, but through its ripples Iris could see the tidal wave pause, as if considering its next move. Caitlin's plan was working, then. Suspended, the water began to shrink. Other people kept fleeing around her, but she stayed steadfast, heart pumping, the exhilaration of Barry's victory surging through her. She would watch.

Then everything collapsed, and the deafening roar of water overcame her.

Frozen in place, she watched the air barrier disappear, the line of Barry's movement cut short, the water crash forward onto the beach. While the tidal wave had been drained of much of its power, the force of the water crashed forward, rushing toward her, overtaking the city. Somewhere, there was a rumble of a building buckling.

She stayed there only a moment more, watching the destruction, watching the water crash through the park toward the hill where she stood. She waited, speechless, for the victory that had already collapsed.

Then, terrified, she ran.

Caitlin clicked uselessly at the screen, but to no avail. It had gone blank. One minute, Barry had been running like normal, his body surging with power, breathing level and intense as it always was when he was determined. She could usually hear it through his comm, the panting and the grunts of resolve.

She'd been monitoring particularly closely this time, considering the speed he would have to reach in order to stop the wave, but everything had looked relatively normal. She would have to check him out, definitely, once he returned, but his heart and his muscles were taking the exertion exceptionally well.

Then, nothing.

It was exactly like the time Bette had blown up his suit—one minute there, the next, completely gone. No indication of what had happened. Like a computer shutting down after running out of battery. Complete blackout, complete silence.

"Barry?" she asked. "Are you there?" She hoped against hope that something had simply malfunctioned, that his monitors had simply gone offline from the extreme speed. Besides, he was too busy to talk, right? He hadn't yet reached the velocity required to completely stop the wave, so he was much too focused to respond.

And, as much as she didn't want to think about the possibility, she would still receive feedback from the suit if he'd been overtaken by the wave.

Wouldn't she?

Doubt creeping into her mind, picked up her phone, then set it down. He wouldn't have his phone on him, either. Instead, she moved to another computer bank and clicked it on, navigating to the news station that they'd had bookmarked for months.

Instantly, her heart sank.

"Residents are being told to evacuate the area immediately…more damage could be oncoming, casualties estimated in the thousands…"

On the screen, a shaky live feed from a helicopter showed the shoreline—a shoreline now decimated by water, residual waves still tearing forward at trees and buildings that were unlucky enough to be too close. A wasteland of water, a tickertape of red:

Tidal wave of unprecedented proportion hits Central City.

There was no time to call anyone now, she realized. She had to find Cisco, consult with him for the next course of action. Why he wasn't already up there with her, she couldn't fathom—perhaps he was watching, calculating from somewhere downstairs.

She took the stairs two at a time, calling out Cisco's name as she went. The further down she went into the belly of the building, the more her gut twisted. At the edges of her mind, past the immediate panic about the tidal wave and Barry's absence, she was beginning to remember the encounter she'd just come from. Wells' empty wheelchair.

She wondered, as she sprinted through the halls, if she should be quieter about her search for Cisco, if she should be worried about Wells' secrets. While she couldn't fathom yet why or how Wells had kept his mobility a secret, she was too consumed by fear of the world outside now to focus on any of that.

That is, until she rounded a corner and noticed a still figure splayed on the ground.

"Cisco?" she called again. The long black hair spread across the floor was her first clue, as was the bright yellow image on the front of his shirt. Something was off about his shirt, though, something glistening, wet, dark—

Her approach was cautious at first, her steps faltering as she tried to understand why he was lying there in the middle of the room, why he hadn't responded to her calls. Then, as she came through the doorway, she picked up speed, moving into a sprint, her heels clicking and sliding on the floor.

The realization hit her before her knees hit the floor. Cisco's chest was soaked with blood, and his eyes were open and glazed. She knew, instantly, that she was too late, but her hands searched out his wrists, searched for a pulse that wasn't there.

The stillness, the coldness, washed through her, and she found herself mouthing soundless words, searching for something that wasn't there. Her hands found Cisco's chest, ready to staunch bleeding that had already stopped, but her arms could not support her and she fell, shaking, forward. The outside world disappeared. A bigger wave, a bigger catastrophe, had crashed through the lab itself.

Her first cry was more of a wail. It resonated through the empty halls, around the space that was too big now for her—the echo would remain there for hours, a sound heavier than it should have been, trapped.

Thanks for reading! More angst ahead, but things will be picking up shortly. Because I'm leaving town for New Year's, an update likely won't be happening until next week-but have a great last few days of 2015, and please let me know what you think in the comments below!

Till next time (and, if I'm permitted to make a dad joke, see you next year),

Penn