Never Talk to the Dead

Barry hated the worried looks they both gave him when he walked through the front door. It had been a few days since he had spoken to either of them. Joe had gotten to Iris before he could, and now she thought he was just as crazy as Joe did.

At least they seemed to have given up now on trying to talk to him about it. Barry was grateful for that. He was tired of trying to convince them, tired of the sad, sympathetic looks they gave him when he told them it was his mother who was trying to communicate with him.

"I made lasagna, Barry," Iris said quietly from where she was sitting with her father in the dining room, "Your favorite."

Barry didn't say anything. He ignored her and made to climb the stairs, not joining them for dinner. He didn't want to sit there with them and try to eat while they exchanged worried looks that they thought he didn't notice. He'd rather go to bed hungry.

It had been a few days since that night at the precinct when his mother had contacted him. He hadn't seen anything strange since. He had had the usual nightmares and was still sleeping terribly, but his mother hadn't tried to reach out to him again. Maybe contacting him the other night had drained her of all her energy. Maybe it would be a while before she would try to communicate with him again. Barry had tried to speak to her, but the effort to communicate seemed to be one-sided now, something that had him feeling particularly low over the past couple days.

Barry was only in the sanctuary of his room for a few minutes before there was a gentle knock on his door.

"Go away," Barry said to whoever it was.

He didn't want to have another one of these conversations with them.

"Barry, please," Iris's voice came through the door.

Barry sighed and opened the door.

"What?" he asked stiffly.

Iris's face crumpled into an expression of hurt.

"Please, just talk to me," she begged.

"Why? So you can analyze me some more?" he asked bitterly, "So you can tell me I'm crazy?"

"Barry," she said sadly.

"No, Iris," Barry said angrily, "I can't stand to have this conversation with you again. You were supposed to be the one person who always believed in me, no matter what. I don't understand why Cisco is the only one who believes me about this. After all the strange things we've seen these past two years, why is everyone questioning this?!"

"Because, Barry," Iris said sadly, "This isn't some metahuman that you're talking about. Yes, we've seen some strange things, but…ghosts?"

"We already know that other worlds exist," Barry said stubbornly, "Why not this?"

"Barry," Iris said quietly, "Don't you think the timing of it is a little…strange?"

Barry gave her a confused look.

"What do you mean, the timing of it?" he asked, not understanding.

Iris let out a heavy sigh.

"Barry, you just lost your dad," she said painfully, "And it was just your mom's anniversary. You've had a lot to cope with lately, and it makes sense that you would want this to be true, to know that the ones we lose are never really gone."

"That's not what this is about," Barry said forcefully, "This isn't grief, Iris."

Iris gave him a pained look, and Barry knew she didn't believe him. She still thought this was about his parents.

"Iris, everything strange that's been happening has been happening since I got back from the Void," he said in frustration.

Iris gave him a confused look.

"The Void?" she asked.

Barry sighed.

"That's what Cisco's been calling it now," he said dismissively, "Whatever it's called, it doesn't matter. Everything started when I accidentally went there."

"Barry, I know whatever you went through there was…terrifying," Iris said gently, "We all understand why you're so shaken up by the whole thing. It's understandable."

Barry let out an angry sigh of frustration. She wasn't listening to him.

"Iris, nothing I say is going to convince you, is it?"

"Barry…" she said sadly, and he could plainly see the anguish in her eyes.

This was hurting her, too.

"I'm done talking about this," Barry said defeatedly.

"You don't have to talk," Iris said quickly, "Just listen. Just hear me out, Barry."

"The same way you've been listening to me?" Barry asked angrily, "I don't want to hear it, Iris. I don't want to hear any more about your stupid grief theories or how crazy and delusional you guys think I am."

Before Iris could say another word, Barry closed the door in her face with a snap.

"Barry," she said quietly through the door, but Barry didn't reply.

He stormed angrily over to his bed and sat down on it. A couple seconds later he heard Iris sigh and walk away.

Barry couldn't believe how little faith his own family had in him. He felt like they hadn't fully even given him a chance to explain. Sure, Joe had tricked and told him that he believed him so that Barry would open up to them, but they hadn't really listened to him, not fully.

Barry wished none of this was happening to him, but there was also a small part of him that didn't want it to stop. This wasn't a curse. It was a gift in disguise. He had been given the gift of a chance to talk to his mother again. Not some past version of her or some imitation of her that the speed force had conjured up, but his actual mother, in the present. Barry wasn't going to return that gift; he wasn't going to pass up this opportunity.

He just wished his mother would reach out again already.

Barry was struck by a sudden thought then. Maybe he needed to reach out. Maybe he wasn't doing enough to try to communicate from his side.

After a few moments of thought, Barry suddenly stood up from his bed. With urgency, he crossed his bedroom and made his way over to the closet. He opened the door quickly, but then he hesitated.

It was dark in the closet.

Barry pushed his fear aside. This was his mother. He didn't need to feel afraid. He wasn't afraid of her, though; he was afraid of the others. He didn't let that stop him from entering the small closet, though. He stepped boldly into it, his breath catching painfully in his chest.

The closet wasn't icy cold, though. He didn't sense any presence there as he stooped down and started digging through the boxes he kept there. It took him a while, but he finally found it.

The record.

Barry smiled sadly at it for a moment before standing back up and moving back into his room, straight to his old record player. He hadn't played the record in years, and he felt somewhat guilty about that. It had been his mom's favorite.

He carefully set the large disk on the turntable and turned the player on. The record started to spin silently, and Barry slowly lowered the needle down to it. His heart clenched when the song started to emit from his dad's old player.

The memories it stirred brought tears to his eyes. He could picture his mother now, humming this song softly as she cooked in the kitchen, sitting in the living room at night, enjoying a glass of wine as she let the record play.

Barry shook off the sadness he felt over hearing his mother's song. He turned around, away from the record player, and looked around the room, straining his ears, which were ringing now. He took that as a good sign.

"I'm listening, mom," he said quietly, "What do you want to tell me?"

Nothing happened. The room remained empty and quiet, the old song the only sound filling the space.

"Please," Barry begged, "Please, mom, talk to me. Do something. Anything. Show me that you're still here with me."

And then he saw it.

Barry rushed over to the bookshelf and stared at the snow globe he had sitting there, the one that had belonged to his mother. The small snow-like specks of confetti inside the glass were now raining down on the scene inside.

A small laugh that was really more of a sob escaped Barry's lips. She had responded. She had heard him and responded. Barry picked up the small snow globe and clutched it to his chest.

Just then, there was a gentle knock on his door. Barry rushed over to his record player and quickly silenced the music he was playing. Joe and Iris both knew it was his mother's song, and he didn't exactly want them to hear him playing it. They had probably already heard, though.

"Go away, Iris," Barry said irritably.

She had interrupted his moment with his mother for nothing. He didn't know why Iris had even bothered to come back. He wasn't going to talk to her again. It wasn't Iris's voice that responded, though.

"Barry," a male voice said, "It's me. Wally."

Barry raised his eyebrows in surprise. Wally must have just come home. Barry sighed and opened the door. Just from the way Wally was looking at him when his face came into view, Barry could tell that Joe and Iris had filled him in on everything that was going on.

"Joe and Iris just finish telling you that I'm losing my marbles?" Barry asked bitterly.

Wally sighed.

"I believe you, Barry," he said quietly.

Barry blinked at him in surprise.

"You…you do?" he whispered.

Wally nodded.

"Can I come in?" he asked quietly, glancing back down the hall behind him, no doubt making sure Joe and Iris weren't there to overhear.

Barry nodded. He quickly ushered Wally inside his room and closed the door.

"Why?" Barry asked him as soon as the door was closed.

Wally gave him a confused look.

"Why do you believe me?" Barry elaborated.

Wally was last person who Barry had expected to believe him. He didn't understand.

"Last week," Wally said, "When I found you thrashing in your sleep, before I could get you to wake up, I…I saw something."

Barry stared at him.

"What did you see?" he asked quietly.

"A person," Wally whispered, "There was someone else in the room. They were standing over there, in the dark."

Wally pointed towards the far corner of the room, to the exact same place where Barry had seen the figure, himself.

"I thought I had imagined it," Wally said quietly, "But now, after hearing about everything you've been experiencing, I know that it was really there."

"Did you tell your dad and Iris what you saw?" Barry asked hopefully, "Did you tell them you believe me?"

Wally gave him an uneasy look and nodded.

"I did," he said, "And then we had a pretty big fight about it. They didn't want me to come talk to you. They didn't want me to encourage you."

"Figures," Barry said bitterly.

Joe, Iris, and Caitlin had fought with Cisco about it, too, but thankfully Cisco had stood by Barry's side. He had told them about his vibe, about how the place Barry had been in felt like death, but it wasn't enough to convince them. Barry didn't understand. How could they not believe in both him and Cisco?! And now Wally.

They thought Cisco and Wally were just mistaken. Barry, on the other hand, they thought was losing it.

"So, you think it's your mom?" Wally asked quietly, changing the subject off Joe and Iris.

Barry nodded.

"She's trying to communicate with me," he said surely.

He looked down and realized he was still holding the snow globe in his hands. When he looked back up, Wally was giving him an uneasy look.

"You…you haven't tried to communicate back, have you?" he asked nervously.

Barry gave him a confused expression. Why was Wally suddenly so nervous?

"Of course I have," Barry answered, "She's my mom."

Wally's expression became more than nervous then. It quickly became an expression of fear.

"Barry, haven't you ever seen any scary movie ever?" Wally asked incredulously, "You…you should never talk to the dead."

Barry stared at him.

"Why?" he asked.

Wally gave him another uneasy look.

"Because when you try to communicate," he said nervously, "You invite them in."

"Well, that's what I'm trying to do," Barry said openly, "I want to talk to my mother, Wally."

Wally shook his head sadly at him.

"Barry, the dead are not meant to talk to the living," he said quietly, "It's dangerous."

"How do you know that?" Barry asked stubbornly.

Wally sighed.

"My mom was always really into this stuff," he told him, "Spirits, ghosts, psychics. She knew quite a bit about all of it."

"I didn't know that," Barry said in surprise.

Then again, he didn't really know much about Francine at all. Wally never really talked about her. Barry didn't blame him for it. Since his dad had died, Barry hadn't been talking about him much either.

Wally nodded.

"I'm no expert, but I've learned quite a bit about it over the years," he said simply, "And trust me, Barry. This isn't something that you want to mess with. You don't want to get yourself in deeper than you already are."

"So what am I supposed to do?" Barry asked in frustration, "Ignore my mother?"

Wally let out a heavy sigh.

"Yes," he said quietly, "You don't want to pay attention to the dead. The more you notice them, the more they're going to notice you."

Barry sighed.

"I can't just ignore my mother, Wally," he said quietly.

Wally gave him a serious look.

"Even if it's hurting you?" he asked quietly, "My dad and Iris told me about the bruises, Barry."

"Those aren't from her," Barry said quickly, "They're from the others."

"Exactly," Wally said in a scared voice, "Barry, maybe when you try to reach out to her, it's not only your mother that you're reaching out to. When you talk to one of the dead they all hear you. You're inviting them in."

Barry shook his head vehemently.

"No," he said firmly, "She's protecting me from them. I think…I think she's been trying to warn me."

Wally gave Barry a sad look.

"I hope you're right," he said quietly.

Wally moved towards the door then.

"I should go before my dad or Iris catch me in here," he said, "I just wanted you to know that I believe you."

Barry gave Wally a sad smile.

"Thank you, Wally."

Wally nodded and then left the room, closing the door behind him. Barry sighed and looked down at the snow globe in his hands.

"I love you, mom," he whispered.

Barry waited until everyone was asleep before he emerged from his room and made his way downstairs. He couldn't help but glance at the clock in the living room once he was down there, but he was surprised to find that it wasn't there. Joe must have taken it down, not wanting Barry to obsess over it. Barry glared at the blank expanse of wall for a moment before he looked around the rest of the room.

The photos were gone, too.

There were no photos of Barry anywhere in the house now. Barry wondered where Joe had put them. He must have hidden them in the same place he hid all the clocks.

Barry sighed and made his way to the kitchen. He hadn't eaten dinner, and he couldn't ignore the hunger anymore. He actually hadn't been eating much lately at all, and he was trying to make an effort to change that. Barry couldn't bring himself to heat up a plate of the lasagna Iris had made for them. He felt too guilty.

Instead, Barry went over to the pantry to grab a calorie bar. He was going to turn on the pantry light, but he decided not to. Despite what Wally had said, Barry couldn't help it. He had to try. She was his mother after all. Barry stepped into the dark space and strained his eyes to see something, anything. He couldn't stop his heart from racing. It felt like he was in that dark place again. Barry felt a bit silly, being afraid of the dark, but at least he knew now that he had a good reason to be. He couldn't help but think of what his mother had said to him the night she had died.

You're not afraid of the dark, Barry. You're afraid of being alone in the dark. But that fear goes away when you realize something.

You're never really alone.

They had been her last words to him.

And now Barry knew that he wasn't alone. She was there, watching over him. She was still with him now.

"Mom?" he whispered quietly into the darkness.

Barry's ears started to ring again, and he strained to listen closer, hoping to hear her and not them, but he couldn't hear anything, not even the dull murmur of whispering. Sometimes he heard it, and sometimes he didn't. He knew she was there, though.

Barry spent nearly ten full minutes standing in the pantry, trying to hear her, but eventually the ringing faded and left him in silence. Barry sighed and grabbed a calorie bar before walking out of the pantry. He walked through the kitchen, turning the kitchen lights off as he left. It was only a second later, though, that he halted in his tracks when he heard a whisper from behind him.

"Beautiful boy."

Barry spun around, heart racing. He rushed back into the kitchen and his heart nearly stopped when he saw the figure standing there, just behind the counter.

"Mom," he whispered, his throat dry.

He knew he didn't have to be scared, but the eeriness of it still sent a chill down his spine. Barry couldn't see her face in the dark, but he could see the outline of a woman standing there, not saying anything now.

Barry quickly moved to the wall and flicked on the light switch, desperately wanting to see his mother's face. He looked back to see her, but she was gone now.

"No!" he said in anguish, "No, no, no."

He quickly flicked the light back off, but there was still no one there now.

"Please," he begged, "Mom, please. Please come back."

Barry felt a hand touch his shoulder then, and his heart nearly stopped. He spun around on the spot. It wasn't his mother behind him, though.

"Bar," Joe said sadly, "What are you doing?"

Joe had clearly heard Barry calling out to his mother just now. Barry could see that plainly written on his face.

"She was here," Barry sobbed, tears forming in his eyes, "Joe, she was here."

Joe shook his head sadly at Barry, tears forming in his own eyes now. He didn't say anything. He just reached out and pulled Barry into a hug. Barry couldn't pull away even if he wanted to. He needed it. He needed someone to hug him. He wrapped his arms around Joe in return as he buried his face in Joe's shoulder, weak sobs wracking his body.

"It's okay, Barry," Joe said sadly, running a hand along the back of Barry's head, "It's okay. We're going to figure this out."

Iris hummed quietly to herself as she carried the laundry basket up the stairs. She didn't even live here now, but she still came over all the time to help out, especially with everything that was going on with Barry now.

They had urged Barry to take another sick day today, and Iris decided she was going to stay home and spend the day with him. Barry, however, had insisted he needed to go into the lab for a couple hours to finish up a few cases that needed to be done today. He promised he would come straight home as soon as he was done, though. Iris wasn't worried about him keeping that promise, knowing her dad would force him to leave work one way or another.

Iris gently pushed Barry's bedroom door open with her free hand, wedging the laundry basket between her other hand and her hip. All of the curtains in the room were pulled open, casting the room in bright sunlight. Iris walked over to Barry's dresser to put his now-clean clothes away for him.

After closing the drawer, her eyes landed on the small table next to the dresser where Barry kept his dad's old record player. Her heart sank when she saw the record album sitting next to it. It had been years since Barry had listened to that song. He used to play it all the time, when he was missing his mother.

Iris let out a heavy sigh and made to leave the room. When she got to the door, however, a small noise met her ears and made her pause. She looked back into the room, looking for the source of the sound. It sounded almost like…whispering.

It was coming from the closet.

Iris slowly stepped closer to the closed closet door, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn't make out any words from it, but she could definitely hear someone whispering to her from behind the door. Her mouth dry, Iris reached a shaky hand out to the knob on the door and slowly turned it.

Barry had half a mind to run to STAR Labs instead of home after Joe forced him to finally leave the precinct to get some rest. He knew he'd have Iris calling him non-stop if he did that, though, so he reluctantly decided to go home.

Things were still strained between them because of everything that was happening, but he was getting better about spending time with his family. He knew they were just worried about him and wanted to be there for him. Barry couldn't fault them for that. He was still angry with them for not believing in him, but he wasn't going to shun them for it anymore. They were his family, after all. He would spend the rest of the day with Iris, and things would be civil between them, maybe even pleasant.

That thought was thrown to the winds when Barry entered the house and heard the horrible screams coming from upstairs.

His blood ran cold.

Barry didn't think he had ever run faster in his life, and that was saying something. He flashed upstairs in an instant and quickly found Iris in his bedroom, curled up on the floor between his bed and his desk with her eyes squeezed tightly shut, her hands shaking as she kept them protectively over her head, as if expecting an attack. Iris let out another horrible scream that was both gut-wrenching and heart-breaking for Barry to hear. He quickly rushed over to her and touched her arm.

Iris's screams grew more hysterical, and she tried to fight him at first, pushing his hands away in a panic.

"Iris!" Barry yelled, "Iris! It's me! It's Barry!"

Iris's eyes snapped open and her scream died in her throat.

"B-barry," she cried and then flung herself into his arms, clinging to him as she sobbed brokenly into his shoulder.

"I believe you!" she sobbed, "Barry, I believe you!"

"Iris, what happened?" Barry asked urgently, hugging her protectively.

Iris sniffed and pulled away from him to look at him with watery eyes.

"There was someone in there," she sobbed hysterically, pointing towards his closet, "There…there was someone in the dark."

"It's okay, Iris," Barry said, hugging her, "You don't have to be afraid. It's my mother, remember?"

"Barry, that is not your mother!" Iris cried hysterically, not even attempting to hide her fear, "Whatever it is, it isn't friendly. It's evil!"

Barry shook his head at her, a small smile on his face. He felt bad that she was scared, but he was so happy and relieved that Iris finally believed him.

"That's what I thought at first, too," he said quickly, "I'll admit, the whole thing is eerie at first; But once you get used to it, you'll see that—"

"Barry, listen to me!" Iris sobbed, "That is not your mother! I know you want it to be, but it's not!"

The smile slid from his face then as he looked at her in concern.

"Did it…?" he asked quietly, "Did it hurt you?"

To his relief, Iris shook her head.

"No," she said quietly, "But it spoke to me."

"What did she say?" Barry asked urgently, leaning closer to her, eyes wide.

Iris looked at him with a dead-serious expression he had never seen on her face before. She had tears in her eyes when she answered him, her voice only a whisper.

"He's mine."