After the lovely warm fuzzies that I got writing the last chapter, I kind of hated to do this to them. But the truth must come out. Hang in there!
As always, your reviews and wonderful comments have really meant a lot to me. Thank you so much for reading and supporting! :)
Chapter 10
Barry is The Flash. Barry is The Flash. Barry. Is. The. Flash.
Iris couldn't comprehend it. Her best friend Barry Allen was the man in scarlet running around the city, the fastest man alive. It was crazy. It was impossible to believe.
Except it wasn't. Everything about this made so much sense. Barry had been acting different since the first day he woke up. She had known it. She had tried to pry it out of him, but he had resisted. After he had confessed the love he had always had for her she had been able to attribute his behavior to that alone. It certainly made enough sense at the time. But now it was like a flashlight's searching beam had yielded to the illuminating light of the sun. Where once she got small pieces and different views, she now had a full picture.
Everything that had happened since he woke from his coma replayed in her mind as she once more lay in her bed, putting patterns and paths together. Obviously the lightning strike had something to do with it, since she knew Barry had not been born with this. His insistence to Joe that a bank robber could control the weather made more sense now. Barry had always chased the impossible, but that had been a bit of a stretch at the time. Or seemed to be. What also made sense now was him pulling her out of the way of the police car and then being so suddenly gone. She had thought it was her misconception, her being out of sorts because of the accident right after. She remembered him stress eating at Jitters months ago, when he eaten a huge amount of food and then told her that he thought he had to do something but found out he wasn't very good at it. She remembered the phone call he'd received. "I told you, I'm through." He had been going to quit. But then he had hastily made an excuse she didn't believe for a moment and left. Obviously he had changed his mind.
He had also gotten better at it. Much better. Her blog was filled with sightings and stories of people saved or helped, criminals stopped. Now it made sense why he had been so resistant to the idea of The Flash or supporting her blog. That had been so drastically out of the norm for him, it had raised a red flag immediately.
The night he and Tony fought replayed in her mind, and it was mind blowing to imagine Barry inside that suit, Barry getting thrown against a wall, Barry coming through the doors so unbelievably fast and punching a steel-plated Tony. Bet Tony never saw that coming back when they were in school.
But at the same time it wasn't mind blowing at all to think of Barry in that suit moving her away from Tony, complimenting her cross, breaking his hand to bring Tony down. Of course, she'd delivered the final blow, but she never would have been able to if The Fla- …if Barry hadn't gotten in the first punch. That was exactly what Barry would do.
Iris could see now that Barry was not the only one who had been changed recently. If Tony had been metal when he was a kid, he certainly would have used it. Iris wondered if the burning man and the one who made people angry were all a part of this big mess. She was willing to bet they were.
Iris punched her mattress. Why hadn't she seen it? Why hadn't she seen who it was behind the mask? She knew Barry better than she did anyone else. If he hadn't been disguising his voice, scrambling his face, she would have known him immediately.
She had to admit that part of it was because Barry was just so unassuming; she couldn't picture him and The Flash as the same at all.
But she should have felt it. Their easy banter reminded her a lot of talking with Barry. Or not. Barry was her best friend. The Flash was a confident hero. She had already admitted being attracted to him. There was energy between her and The Flash that she hadn't experienced with Barry. Of course, Barry had never overtly flirted with her either. Barry was her best friend. Being attracted to him was just not how she thought about him. Until maybe last night.
Last night…thinking about that just made her angry now.
Iris sat up and punched her pillow. All these months, all those secret meetings, and he never told her? Did he think she couldn't be trusted? That she wouldn't support him? That she couldn't accept it or understand? That really hurt. Add that to his secret feelings of love for her and she felt like the person she thought she knew inside and out was not anyone she recognized at all.
Iris was working the late shift the next day. After finding a small amount of restless sleep she spent the morning and early afternoon making sure she didn't see Barry or text him. Her plan last night had been to search him out today and make sure he knew her true feelings about him. He was so reticent, she knew she'd have to make the first move if she wanted their relationship to change. But now she wasn't exactly sure what those feelings were. And their relationship had definitely changed, but she wasn't sure what to.
At work she debated for a bit and then placed a message on her blog, asking to see The Flash tonight. She hadn't done that in a while, not since they had made a regular schedule. She spent the rest of her shift trying to be friendly to customers and hide the anger that lay underneath. It was a difficult feat. The more she thought about it the angrier she became. By the time she was almost ready to close, gathering dishes as the other staff made their way out, she was so angry that she ended up slapping mugs and plates on the counter. One made an ominous crunching sound. She winced, realizing it was probably chipped if not broken.
"Iris? Everything all right?" It was Stacey, one of her coworkers heading out.
Iris sighed in frustration. "Yes, everything is fine, thanks."
Stacey's face clearly said she didn't believe it. "Sure, Iris." She waited a few more minutes, an expectant look on her face. Iris smiled in spite of herself. Stacey was a little out there sometimes, but she was a nice person. Iris leaned across the counter.
"Did you ever find out that someone you thought you knew is someone you don't know at all? Did you ever realize you were friends with a stranger?"
Many other girls would have had a trite or sarcastic comment to make, but Stacey really seemed to give it some thought. "Well, Iris, honestly no."
"Great." Iris leaned back again, ready to go get more dishes.
Stacey put a finger up. "But! That's because I don't think just knowing facts and figures about a person's life means you really know them. Knowing someone is totally different." She started to warm to her subject, her eyes starting to gleam. "I believe that when you know someone you really see what's inside them, inside their soul, you know? And then those other things just don't matter at all. If you know what's inside, that's what's important. When I know their soul, I'll always know them."
Iris was expecting poetry any moment. She was sorry she asked. But she smiled anyway, so Stacey's feelings wouldn't be hurt. "Thanks Stacey. That…really helps."
Stacey beamed. "Anytime!" She headed out the door. Iris shook her head, rolled her eyes, and went back to work.
When Barry spotted the message on Iris's blog, for the first time he wasn't in a hurry to get there. Last night had been difficult, yielding little sleep and a lot of turmoil. He knew that if he ever wanted anything to happen between him and Iris, he needed to tell her the truth. Barry's highest hopes, when he admitted to them, were being married and making a life with Iris. He just couldn't do that if he was lying to her. Not if there was any chance at all of her returning his feelings. After last night, he really felt there might be.
He was still afraid she'd hate him. He was still aware that telling her could ruin things between them forever. He was even aware that Joe might very well turn away from him for doing it. But a simple secret had gotten way out of hand. Even though he was terrified of the consequences, the truth needed to be told. He honestly felt worse about the potential consequences of this move than he had about telling Iris how he felt about her.
When the time came, Barry moved at a slower pace than usual, putting on his suit and heading to Jitters. He realized how slow he was going when he started to draw more attention from people he passed. Usually he was past them before their heads could turn. He increased his speed reluctantly.
When he got to the rooftop, he immediately saw Iris standing in the middle of the chairs and tables. The lights were lower than usual. She was in shadow too. Barry tried not to show his nervousness and smiled. "Hello, Iris."
"Hey." She took an abnormal amount of time replying for just one word. She studied how he moved, noting how different he moved in the suit compared to his everyday clothes. That was something. He didn't move like Barry in that suit. She was still angry she hadn't figured it out earlier.
Barry sensed the difference in her. He searched his brain for a reason. "Hey, I'm sorry I left so fast the other day. It was really confusing waking up there. I heal fast, so I promise I'm fine."
Iris shook her head, close to angry tears. He heals fast. Just one more thing she didn't know about her so-called best friend. It hurt just to hear that disguised voice and now be able to recognize Barry behind it. She felt so stupid.
Barry stared at her. He had been so focused on telling her that he hadn't even thought about why she wanted to meet with The Flash. Now he realized that there was definitely a reason. "Are you okay?"
Iris was starting to get really sick of hearing people ask her that. She didn't trust herself to speak. She was pretty sure she'd start screaming at him. She just shook her head.
Barry was thinking he'd better sit down and hear what she had to say. If he could get her to talk at all, that is. He looked to the corner where his chair usually sat.
It wasn't there.
He looked back at Iris, and the question died in his throat as she moved into the light.
Her eyes were blazing with repressed emotion. Her face was set in rigid lines. She was staring at him like she could see right through his mask. One thought flew across his mind as she started walking toward him:
She knows.
There were a few seconds where Barry could have left. He could have run and prevented what happened next. But he didn't see the point. He could tell by her face that it was already too late. Besides, he'd meant to tell her anyway.
So he let her walk towards him.
He let her stop inches in front of him.
And he let her place her hand over his heart.
Even through thick tripolymer, the rapid beat that she knew so well confirmed what she already knew. She gritted her teeth, breathing rapidly, and pulled her hand away like the touch had burned her. She looked up into his face. He looked like he was awaiting the executioner.
In a completely irrational way it made Iris feel a bit better to study his face with the mask on. Now that she knew who was behind it, she could pick out features that were Barry. But on the whole, the mask and hood that covered his hair, neck, ears, forehead, much of his face and even his chin made it difficult to see what the person underneath was really supposed to look like. Especially if it was covering the last person you'd expect to find there. She took some comfort in that. It's not like he was just wearing glasses.
When she finally met his eyes, she could read the distress and fear in them. But she had other things she was more focused on. She finally forced herself to speak.
"Why? Why wouldn't you tell me?"
He looked defeated before he even started, like he knew his answer wasn't good enough. For the first time, his voice emerged undisguised. "Joe asked me not to. To keep you safe. And then, I wanted to protect you."
She knew her face registered shock, much as she tried to cover it. "My dad knows?"
Barry winced, closing his eyes. Sorry Joe.
Barry had thought he would see hatred when Iris finally learned the truth. He was wrong. What he did see was anger, betrayal, hurt, and sadness laced with huge amounts of pain.
It was a million times worse than hate.
He put up a hand to take off his mask and hood. He wanted to talk with no barriers. Her voice made him pause, hand in mid-air.
"Don't. Don't take that off." The last thing she wanted to see was Barry's face, his boyish stupid adorable face, in that suit. He stopped.
"Iris, I'm so-"
"Don't." She practically growled it at him. "Don't." But her voice broke the second time. She was so sick of crying recently, but all the same tears were starting. She turned and walked quickly away, going to the door leading downstairs. She made sure it was locked and closed it after her, just to make sure he got the point.
To Barry, it was loud and clear. He sat on a nearby chair, facing away from the security camera and the door.
After he'd heard Oliver was dead, all he'd wanted to do was run. Run away from the pain. Run away from the truth. But now he felt sapped of all energy and strength. He felt crushed into his seat. He waited until he had the drive to get up and leave. It took a very long time.
The problem with not running was that the tears didn't fly off into the wind.
Instead, they trickled under his mask and down his face.