Honored

Iris stared at the envelope on the counter, wanting to know what it was exactly but also afraid to open it and find out. All she could do was stare at the address label:

To the family of Bartholomew Allen.

"Dad," she said softly when her father entered the kitchen, "This just came in the mail."

She handed him the envelope, and her father stared at for a moment, clearly just as clueless about it as she was.

"Norstad Financial?" he asked, looking at the return address.

After sharing a brief, questioning look with Iris, Joe opened the envelope and took out one of the forms inside. Iris saw his expression change instantly when he looked at the piece of paper. His eyes grew wide for a moment and then quickly filled with tears as he placed a hand over his mouth.

"What is it, dad?" Iris asked urgently, moving closer to him to look at the paper in his hand.

"It's…" he said in a strained voice, "It's a check."

He handed her the paper, and Iris saw it for herself.

"It's Barry's life insurance policy," her father whispered.

Iris frowned down at the check in her hand.

"Life insurance?" she asked, "But Barry doesn't have…"

Barry was—had been only twenty-six. He didn't have life insurance.

"Of course," Joe muttered to himself as he pulled a second sheet of paper from the envelope to read it, "Of course he would."

Iris felt her own eyes fill with tears as she finally understood.

"When did Barry do this?" she whispered, a lump already forming in her throat.

"It looks like he set it up shortly after getting diagnosed," her father told her, reading the form he was holding.

Iris shook her head, tears starting to fall now. Of course that's the first thing Barry would have worried about. Never mind the fact that he had cancer; his number one concern had simply been for what would happen to his family if he were gone. Barry had covered his bases, had prepared for the aftermath of his own death long before they had even considered it a possibility. Iris didn't even know what to make of that.

It was like Barry knew.

"Damn you, Barry," Iris choked, glaring down at the check in her hand, "Damn you for being so selfless."

This was somehow worse than when they had inherited the rest of Barry's assets. Barry had left STAR Labs and everything else he owned to all of them, splitting it between the Wests, Henry, and the rest of Team Flash. That had been hard enough, but the idea that Barry had had the foresight to take out a life insurance policy for them was just too much.

The entire time he was sick, he had been arranging all of this behind their backs. He had been making plans, preparing for the possibility of his own death.

Joe felt sick to his stomach at the idea of cashing the check. He didn't want the money. He would give all the money in the world just to have one more moment with Barry. He would cash it anyways, knowing that's what Barry would have wanted, but it was going to kill him to do it.

Joe had to take deep breaths as he walked into the CCPD. It was his first time going there since Barry had died. Several of his coworkers gave him sad smiles, happy to see him there, but knowing he wasn't there to come back to the force. No.

He was there to clean out Barry's lab.

He glanced briefly at the memorial photo of Barry that was on the precinct wall, right next to Eddie's and the rest of the fallen heroes of the CCPD. He looked away from it quickly. He was growing weary of constantly seeing Barry's face everywhere he went. He didn't think his heart could bear it anymore. The photos around the house were starting to get to him, even more now than ever. He thought it would grow easier with time, but it seemed that the more time that passed, the more he missed Barry and the more his heart would ache every time he saw a photograph of him.

Joe climbed the stairs to the lab with a heavy heart, having to constantly remind himself that Barry wouldn't be there. A part of him still half-expected to find Barry standing in his lab, hunched over his microscope, going about his day like normal, maybe planning to ask him to go grab some lunch with him later.

Instead, Joe found Carl in the lab, pipetting a few blood samples into test tubes for analysis. He looked over at Joe as he entered, his face falling when he saw who it was.

"Detective West," he said sadly, "How…how are you doing?"

Joe let out a heavy sigh.

"I'm managing," he replied tersely, "And please, call me Joe."

Carl nodded.

"I…I can help you if you want," he offered, wringing his hands, "I know how hard this must be for you."

Joe shook his head.

"That's okay," he said, "I think this is something I'd rather do alone. I'm not going to take much anyways. Just his personal things. You can keep his lab tech. I don't have any use for it anyways, and I'm sure…I'm sure Barry would have wanted you to have it."

Carl nodded sadly and sighed.

"I wish I had gotten to know him better," he said quietly, "I just feel like…like I'm not really allowed to grieve him. Everyone else here knew Barry so much longer than I did, and I didn't really know him that well, but I still feel so sad over his loss. I feel like I've lost a close friend, which I know is ridiculous, but…"

"Barry had that effect on people," Joe said with a sad smile, "It didn't take knowing him long to get attached."

Carl nodded in agreement.

"I'll give you some privacy," he said quietly after a moment.

Joe nodded gratefully, and Carl left the lab, leaving Joe standing there by himself.

He let out a shaky sigh before making his way over to Barry's desk. Everything on the desk was untouched. It looked like it had been maybe dusted by the cleaning staff, but all of Barry's things remained in the same places they always were, as if he had just been here and would be returning to the lab any minute.

Joe set down the empty cardboard box he had gotten for Barry's things. His hands now free, Joe had no idea where to begin. Barry's workspace was organized and orderly for the most part, but he had a lot of stuff, and Joe didn't know what he should pack up first.

He decided to start with the desktop, grabbing the framed photo that was sitting there first. It was a photo of the Barry and his mother, Barry's young eyes twinkling as she wrapped her arms around him from behind. Joe carefully set the frame in the box, glad to have it out of the way. This was hard enough without having a photo of the boy he had lost staring at Joe as he went through his things.

On top of the desk also sat a snow globe, the one that had belonged to Barry's mother. Joe held it in his hand for a prolonged moment, staring at it with watery eyes. It had been one of Barry's most precious possessions, and now it was going into a box. He would have to pull it out later and give it to Henry. It would mean so much more to him than it would to the Wests. They had so many of Barry's things to hold onto, but Henry had very little to remember his son by. This would be the perfect thing to give to him because it had also belonged to his wife.

Barry's desk contained mostly just office supplies and multiple CSI reference books that Barry had hardly ever even used because he had practically memorized them ages ago. In the back of one of the bottom drawers of the desk, Joe found at least fifteen calorie bars tucked away, all still wrapped in their original packaging. He wondered sadly if Barry had simply stored them here or if he had hidden them here because he wasn't hungry and wanted them to think he had eaten them. Joe really hoped it wasn't the latter. Although, he wouldn't have held it against Barry if it was. It didn't make him angry, only sad.

He also found a few half-empty medication bottles in one of the drawers, most of them being for nausea. Barry had all but given up on taking them, seeing as most of them didn't really help stop him from throwing up. What was perhaps the most upsetting, however, was when Joe found a small pamphlet at the bottom of a drawer: a medical pamphlet. For a full minute, all Joe could do was stand there as he stared at the cover.

Helping Your Loved Ones Cope with Your Cancer

That was what did it. That was what caused Joe's tears to finally fall. As if the check in the mail hadn't been enough, here was yet another reminder that Barry had been solely focused on helping everyone else cope with his illness rather than worrying about himself. The entire time, Joe had been under the impression that Barry had been constantly trying to ignore his cancer, to pretend like it didn't exist, but if he had learned anything over these past couple days, it had been that Barry had far from ignored it. He had actually given it a great deal of thought. Those thoughts, however, clearly hadn't been for himself.

They had been for his family.

Joe couldn't stand to think about any of it right now, so he quickly wiped his face and continued emptying the drawer. He came across a small, black notepad and held it in his hands, staring at it curiously. Barry used to carry it around with him to all his crime scenes, always scribbling down notes in it. Joe opened it more out of curiosity than anything else, and his eyes scanned through Barry's chicken scratch writing inside.

Most of it was just notes about the different scenes he had gone to, observations and speculations about the incidents. There were some science formulas that didn't make a lick of sense to Joe, and there were different notes meant to serve as reminders to look certain things up later and follow up on different pieces of evidence. Overall, most of it was boring work stuff.

However, dispersed throughout the theorems and observations, there were other little notes Barry had made. Many of them had "NTS" written next to them, which Joe assumed meant "note to self." He looked through some of the earlier ones written in the notepad, ones from Barry's first few days on the job.

NTS: Don't eat at crime scenes.

Joe chuckled to himself as he read it. One of Barry's first few days on the job, he had nearly gotten sick at a crime scene because he had eaten a granola bar right before walking onto the scene. He found it somewhat amusing that Barry had actually taken the time to write a reminder for himself not to do it again. Then again, Barry wrote everything down. It was just the CSI part of him, and it was part of what made him such a good CSI. He always remembered every detail later if you asked him about it.

NTS: Officer Dilloshaw never wears gloves. Take extra fingerprint samples.

NTS: Officer Liddell expects reports within 24 hr

NTS: Joe prefers scenes taped off with extra five feet perimeter

NTS: Detective Holloway wants concise reports. Not too many details.

NTS: Detective Holloway now complaining of not enough details.

The more Joe read, the more he realized just how determined Barry had always been to please everyone on the force, himself included. Barry had learned and memorized all the little quirks and preferences of each and every detective, and he had done his best to humor all of them. All Barry had ever wanted was to be on good terms with all of his coworkers, and it made Joe sad and maybe even a little angry now to think that some of them hadn't always treated Barry with the most respect.

Joe knew it was irrational to hold it against them, though. It's not like they had been trying to be cruel, and how were they supposed to know that within a few years of working at the CCPD, Barry would get cancer and die? How was anyone to predict that?

Joe sighed and tucked the notepad into the box with the rest of Barry's things. He was just going through the remaining items in the drawer when suddenly someone walked into the lab.

"Excuse me," the man said seriously, "Have you seen CSI Belfort?"

Joe quickly wiped his eyes and looked up at the man, whom he didn't recognize.

"He stepped out for a bit," Joe answered quietly, standing up from where he had been kneeling next to the drawer, "He'll be back soon."

"I was told I could find him in Barry's lab," the man said in irritation.

Joe had to swallow back the lump in his throat. Barry died a month and a half ago, and he had been gone from the precinct for much longer when he was going through treatment, yet they still called it Barry's lab, even now. It seemed that Joe wasn't the only one having a hard time moving on.

"Well, when he comes back, tell him Director Albert is looking for him," the man said irritably.

"Oh," Joe said, his eyes widening in understanding, "You're…you're the new CSI director."

The younger man stepped closer to him then, holding out his hand.

"Julian Albert," he introduced himself, "I was a CSI in Coast City before getting this position."

Joe nodded and took his hand to shake it.

"Joe West," he said quietly, "I used to be a detective here."

"Nice to meet you," Albert said politely.

"So…" Joe said, not sure what to say to the man, "How are you liking the department?"

"It's alright," Albert said with a shrug, "Everyone around here is quite melancholy over the loss of their last CSI. Barry Allen. I never met him, but I've seen his work, and it's genius. Looks like I've got some big shoes to fill. But you must have known him, right? If you were a detective here and all."

Joe nodded and did his best to swallow back the lump in his throat.

"Yeah, I knew him," he said quietly.

"Must have been one hell of a CSI," Albert went on, "I can tell everyone around here really misses him. I feel like they don't care for me much because they think I'm replacing him or something. It wasn't until I got here that I realized that my position…"

"Was supposed to be Barry's," Joe finished quietly, "Yeah."

Joe sighed then.

"I don't think it's the CSI that people miss, though," he said, "I'd like to think it's the person. Barry practically grew up here, and most people here knew him ever since he was a kid."

Albert nodded thoughtfully.

"Well, I should really try to hunt down Belfort," he said after a moment, "I'm running a bit of a tight schedule. It was nice meeting you, Detective West. I hope to see you here again soon."

Joe nodded.

"We'll see," he said quietly as the new director was leaving.

Joe didn't know how to feel about it. He couldn't help but feel somewhat bitter. Barry dies and the position is filled by somebody else just like that. Really, what else was the captain supposed to do, though? Leave the position open indefinitely? At least Singh had had the decency to wait until Barry was actually dead before giving away his promotion. Joe was grateful for that. Singh could have filled the position ages ago, but he waited until now to do it, out of respect for Barry. Joe couldn't really ask for more.

Joe often wondered if he should have told Barry about the promotion. Barry will now never know that Singh had picked him for the job, that he had been the best and that Singh had chosen him of all people. At the same time, knowing what could have been probably would have just been more painful for him. Joe didn't want to sadden Barry with the information, but at the same time, Barry probably would have been touched to know that Singh had picked him. It was too late to tell him now, though. He couldn't tell Barry now that he had been the best, that he had earned it. He couldn't ever tell Barry how proud he was of him.

He tried not to think about how happy Barry would have been, how things would have been if Barry had never gotten sick. Barry would have been so excited to be promoted. Joe could picture it now. Barry running to tell him that Singh had given him the director position. The two of them going out to eat with Iris to celebrate.

Joe found himself thinking that way all the time. Thinking about what things would have been like if Barry hadn't ever been diagnosed. What he would say if he were still here. Where their lives would be at. Would he and Iris have eventually gotten together? Would they have gotten married? Had children? Joe would never know now. That was all just a happy dream now.

A happy dream that would never come true.

Cisco rubbed his eyes tiredly as he worked on his software project. Maybe he should switch to something else soon. He had been working on building a new set of vibing goggles. That project had been keeping him busy enough. He didn't want to work on it, though. He didn't want to think about being Vibe. What was the point? He didn't want to become a vigilante like Barry. It would feel too much like he was replacing him.

Barry wouldn't want him to hold himself back, though. He would tell Cisco to do what he felt he needed to do. He would want the city to be protected. Barry would never pressure Cisco into becoming Vibe if that wasn't what he wanted, but he wouldn't want him to not be Vibe just because he had died.

Cisco sighed and rubbed his eyes. Why was he thinking about this? He should be focusing on another project, on building some kind of tech or something.

Anything but Barry.

He didn't want to work on any more projects, though. His mind was exhausted, and they weren't doing much to distract him anymore anyways. Instead, Cisco decided to start cleaning out his workspace. It was spring, after all. Maybe some spring cleaning was exactly what he needed.

A fresh start.

The first cabinet Cisco opened, though, immediately caused his stomach to twist into a knot. It was full of board games. Cisco picked up one of the games, a more complex version of battleship he had created to boost Barry's memory.

Not today, Cisco. I'm just too tired.

Cisco's stomach churned as he returned the game to the shelf.

He missed him.

He missed Barry so much it hurt. It was easier not to think about his best friend, but not thinking about him only made him miss him more. Caitlin had been urging him to talk about his feelings, but he couldn't. He couldn't even think about them. Cisco didn't want to talk about Barry. He wanted to talk to Barry. He wanted to see him again, hear his voice again, even once. But he couldn't.

Barry was gone. Cisco could never see him again.

But he could still talk to him.

"I'm going out for a little while," Cisco muttered to Caitlin as he passed through the cortex, pulling on his coat.

"Where are you going?" she asked curiously.

"Just grabbing some lunch," he lied, "I'll be back soon."

Before Caitlin could further question him or see through his lie, Cisco walked out of the lab. He knew she would understand, but she would also want to go with him if he told her where he was really going. Cisco didn't want that, though. He needed to go alone.

Cisco felt his heart clench when he looked down at Barry's grave.

Barry Allen

Beloved son and friend.

Cisco shakily wiped a few wet leaves off the gravestone before stooping down.

"Hey, man," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

The ground was wet, and water was soaking into the knees of his jeans as he knelt there, but Cisco didn't care.

"I don't know what to say," he whispered, "I…I don't know where you are now. I don't know what to say."

His eyes watered as he stared at Barry's name, etched into the stone.

"I can't even say your name," he choked, "I know it's stupid, but I can't. I can't say anything because I don't know what to say. It's ridiculous. I always know what to say."

Cisco took a deep breath and stared at the now blurry words on the gravestone.

"I hope you're okay, Barry," he said past the lump in his throat, "I hope you're up there drinking pina coladas with your mom."

Cisco let out a small humorless laugh.

"Is that stupid?" he asked, "Is that a stupid thing to say?"

Cisco looked down at the flowers that were laying at the foot of the grave. They were starting to wilt, but they were still beautiful. Barry deserved to be surrounded by beauty after all the ugliness he went through.

"I'm sorry I haven't been here to visit you," Cisco whispered, "I hope you're not mad at me, not that you're even capable of holding a grudge. You're not very good at being mad at people, dude."

Cisco let out a small laugh, but it sounded more like a sob.

"I just…I want you to know that I understand," Cisco choked then, "I understand why you made the decision you did. We all do, and none of us blame you for it. We all miss you terribly, but we're not mad at you for leaving us. You…you didn't want to leave. We know that."

A real sob escaped Cisco's throat then, and the tears finally spilled over.

"I just really miss you, Barry," he sobbed, "I want to talk to you. I wish you could talk back. This whole one-sided conversation thing isn't enough. I just..."

"Cisco," a deep voice said from behind him.

Cisco spun around and quickly wiped his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Joe said sadly, "I…I wasn't trying to eavesdrop. I was just…"

Joe held up the flowers he was holding in his hand.

"It's okay," Cisco said quickly, standing up from the ground and wiping his eyes, "I was just going to leave anyways. I…I don't know what to say to him."

Joe nodded sadly.

"He is listening, Cisco," Joe whispered, "Barry is still here. He didn't really leave us."

Cisco nodded and wiped his eyes.

"I haven't been thinking about him," he admitted guiltily, "I've been trying not to think about him."

Joe nodded, tears filling his eyes.

"It's hard," he said softly, "I know."

Cisco let out a heavy sigh.

"I've been trying not to be sad," he told him, "Barry wouldn't want us to be sad."

"No, he wouldn't," Joe agreed, "But he would understand, Cisco. It's okay to be sad, to let yourself feel his loss."

"I don't want to feel it," Cisco whispered, a lump in his throat, "I…It doesn't feel real. It's been two months, and it still doesn't feel real."

Joe nodded sadly.

"I know what you mean," he whispered.

Cisco shook his head, fighting back the sob that was threatening to escape him.

"We had so much time," he choked, "We had so much time to mentally prepare. I wasn't ready, though. I…I thought he was going to be okay. When he first got diagnosed…I thought there was no way we would actually lose him. He's Barry. He couldn't die. He…"

Joe shook his head. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the younger man, pulling him into a tight hug.

"No amount of time would have been enough to prepare for this," he said softly into Cisco's ear, "No one was ready for it."

As Joe enveloped him in the hug, Cisco tried to push down his feelings. He struggled to find that numb feeling again, to block out the feeling of loss. It didn't go away this time, though. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make himself numb anymore.

He lost the fight as soon as the first tear escaped his eye. Once the tears started, they couldn't be stopped, and soon, Cisco was sobbing. He sobbed uncontrollably into Joe's shoulder as Joe held him. As he cried, Cisco thought of the last words Barry had said to him before he died.

I have been and always will be your friend.

"Thank you, everyone, for meeting here," Iris said softly, once they were all gathered in the cortex.

Everyone nodded silently, somber expressions on their faces. They were all there, even Henry, whom no one had seen in the last few weeks. It was the first time they were all together in one place since Barry's funeral.

"Are you sure about this, Iris?" Caitlin asked sadly, "Is this what Barry would have wanted?"

Iris let out a heavy sigh and shook her head.

"I don't know," she whispered, "But it's what he deserves. He deserves to be recognized, to be honored for everything he's done."

They all silently nodded their agreement.

"And the city," Iris continued, her voice cracking, "The city deserves to know the truth."

"When will it be published?" Henry asked quietly.

Iris looked down at the paper in her hands, her eyes blurring as she stared down at the words.

"Tomorrow," she whispered, "My editor wants to run it as soon as possible."

They all nodded silently.

"Everyone will know then," Joe sighed, "They'll know who he was, what he did."

"Good," Henry said firmly, "Barry deserves at least that much. He deserves to be remembered as more than just some CSI who got sick."

Joe nodded, a lump forming in his throat.

"Barry wouldn't want to be remembered for how he died," he agreed, "He would want to be remembered for how he had lived."

They all nodded their agreement, sad smiles occupying their faces. It was decided then.

The next morning, Iris's article was published for the world to see.

The Final Fate of the Flash

If you live in Central City, then you know the Flash. You may have even been lucky enough to see the brief sparkle of gold light trailing behind him as he raced past you. Many have noticed that light's absence in our city over the last several dark months, leaving many only able to speculate about our beloved hero's whereabouts. I'm here to finally put an end to the speculation and shed some light on our Scarlet Speedster's absence.

Five months ago, citizens will recall our hero being involved in an intense battle with a mysterious black-clad speedster. Many feared that he had been killed during the fight, but to the city's immense relief, our Scarlet Speedster was back out on the streets saving lives again within a few weeks following the battle. Within a month, however, our beloved Flash seemed to disappear yet again, leaving many to question what had happened to him. It is my deepest heartfelt regret to bring the news that although the Flash seemed to have fully recovered from the fight initially, there were complications later on that compromised his health.

The details of his malady are unimportant. What is important is that the city is informed of the tragic fate of our hero. It does no one more pain than me to inform all of Central City that our hero succumbed to his illness last Friday, May 17th. He passed away at 8:27 pm at the STAR Labs facility where he was being treated for his condition.

As previously stated, if you live in Central City, then you know the Flash. You know that over the past year, he has risked his life countless times to keep our city safe. What people don't know, however, is his name. They don't know who the man was beneath the mask. Underneath that mask was a person, a man with a life and a job and a family.

That man's name was Barry Allen.

For the past year, Barry has selflessly risked his life to keep our city safe, and to not give him the credit and recognition that he deserves for his deeds would be a shameful failure on my part. Barry deserves to be recognized as the hero that he was, both as the Flash and as Barry Allen. The decision to release Barry's identity was not taken lightly by me or the rest of Barry's friends and family. Our only request is that we are given space and privacy during our time of grieving. While the rest of the city grieves the loss of the Flash, we will be grieving the loss of Barry, and we only hope to mourn his loss in peace.

Just as the Flash will always remain in the hearts of the citizens of Central City, Barry will forever remain in mine. To me, the Flash was more than just a hero or a symbol. He was my best friend in the entire world, and I feel immensely grateful for every single day that I had with Barry while he was here.

We all will never forget the Flash and what he meant to this city, but I will never forget the man behind the mask, Barry Allen, and what he meant to me.

finis

Important: Crashing Update

I need everyone's opinion on something. I finished Crashing over a year ago, but something has been bothering me. I often go back and edit stories, even after they're finished. Even when completed, I'm always trying to make them better. Last year, I tried to edit Crashing, but I just couldn't. The thing is, Crashing was my first real fanfic and I was completely new to writing when I wrote it. I used to be very proud of the story—and that's still partly true—but I also cringe when I read it. Unlike my other stories, it needs more than just a little editing. It needs to be scrapped. The characterization is way off, the medicine is flawed, the plot is generic, there's zero character development, and the beginning is way too long. Seriously, they don't even find out he has cancer until chapter eight!

There are so many things I would do differently if I could rewrite the whole thing.

So I did.

Just for my own eyes, I rewrote Crashing, and it turned out SO much better. I cut down the super long beginning, I fixed the character dynamics, I made Barry less of an ass, and I included so many scenes I wanted to include but didn't for fear of crossing lines.

I didn't really mean to do it. I just rewrote it for fun and my own peace of mind, but now I have the first ten chapters of a much better version just sitting on my computer—like many other stories I've never posted—and I just want to get a feel for how it would be received, were I to post it.

I didn't want to post it because I thought it would frustrate readers, knowing I have other stories people are waiting for updates on, but the thing is, I've already written half of it. It seems a waste to just leave it on my computer at this point. The story would be similar, but I changed a LOT in the beginning. Not everyone finds out Barry is sick right away, which allows for there to be an individual reaction scene for each character. Barry also takes on a much more directive role in his own treatment and doesn't just play the part of the sick patient who needs saving. The outcome of the story will be the same—I'll admit that now—but how they reach the ending will be very different.

So, I guess I just wanted to see what you guys think first, test the waters to see if there's even an interest in a rewritten version, since I have so much of it done already. Is this something you guys would be interested in? Trust me, it won't hurt my feelings if you're not. There are quite a few sick Barry fics on this site already, and I understand if you'd rather I spend my time on something else.

Please be honest!

Kayla

PS: To my German readers, I have a personal request that doesn't relate to Fanfiction. I have a German document in my possession that I recently obtained. It was written in the 1700s, and it's important to me that I have it translated. I believe it's a death certificate of one of my ancestors, but I can't know for sure. Google Translate hasn't been of much help to me, seeing as it was written over 300 years ago and the spellings are different. If someone can help me translate it, it would really help me in my genealogy research. If I can verify this document, it would link my family to a bloodline that I've traced back over 1,000 years. It's the missing piece I've been looking for for over eight years. If you can help me, please send me a PM.

Thanks!