This is the cruelest thing I've ever done to my readers. It was probably the worst cliff-hanger I could have left you guys on, and I can't tell you guys how sorry I am. I was going to finish this story before going on hiatus. I had the chapters written, but my computer crashed, and I didn't have time to rewrite them before my summer courses started.

During my hiatus, I realized many of you may have thought the last chapter was the end. It's not! I could never end the story like that. There will be one more chapter following this one. Please see the author's note at the end of this chapter, regarding my updating schedule.

The Black Tag

Joe could hear his heart beating loudly in his ears, the blood draining from his face as he processed what he had just heard. Barry was dead. He had been executed only moments ago. If they had just gotten here sooner, Barry would still be alive. Joe's eyes bore into the man in front of him, the man who had murdered his son.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Joe roared, lunging forward.

The next thing he knew, he was on top of Price, his fists ramming mercilessly into the other man's face, as tears rolled down his own. Oliver and Singh immediately tried to pull Joe off the man, but Joe brushed them off like they weren't even there.

The kid, the metahuman who had been standing there, not saying a word, continued to just stand there. He made no move to pull Joe off Price. In fact, he looked like he wanted to join in.

It took them a few moments, but Oliver and Singh eventually managed to pull Joe off the other man.

"No," Joe sobbed, clutching Oliver's arm as the other man tried to calm him down.

Singh approached Price and put two fingers to the man's neck, verifying he was still alive. His face was bloodied, and he was now unconscious, but he was alive. Joe watched with tears streaming down his face, horrible sobs escaping his throat.

"Shh," Oliver soothed, rubbing Joe's arm, "It's going to be okay."

Nothing about this was okay, though. Barry was dead. They could have saved him, but now…

"It might not be too late," Joe choked, pushing himself up from the ground, "We have to find him! It might not be too late!"

Singh and Oliver exchanged sad looks with each other.

"Go," Oliver said to the two of them then, "I'll take care of Price. You two go find the…find Barry."

Singh nodded sadly, knowing full well what Oliver had been about to say.

"Come on, Joe," Singh said softly, "I know where to go."

Joe didn't need telling twice. The two of them left in a hurry, leaving Oliver and the young man behind to deal with Price. They walked through the snow at a fast pace, making their way to the west side of the camp. As they made their way through the zone, it became apparent that the battle was now over. People were rushing through the camp from all directions, trying to reconnect with their loved ones. EMTs, paramedics, doctors, and just about every type of medical professional were rushing throughout the camp, treating and transporting the injured. Joe hardly paid them a moment's thought. He had only one goal in mind:

Finding Barry.

Joe faltered slightly when they finally reached the pit, momentarily shocked by the morbid sight of hundreds of naked bodies stacked on top of each other. It was so much worse seeing it in person. No amount of vibes could have prepared him for it. He shook it off quickly, though, and soon, Joe was in the pit, frantically searching for Barry amongst the frozen corpses.

"Hold on, Bar," Joe choked, sifting through the endless bodies, "Hold on. I'm going to find you."

Singh joined him, looking through the pit with a somber expression on his face. His expectations were much more realistic. Joe was looking for his son. Singh was looking for a body. All the bodies looked the same, and it was hard to keep in mind that each one had been a person. They looked at the face of each body, knowing that that would be the only part of Barry they would recognize.

Singh almost missed him. He only just caught the side of Barry's face as he was searching. Once he did, he felt his heart sink.

"Joe," he said softly, "He's here."

Joe rushed over frantically as Singh tried to maneuver Barry amongst the pile of twisted limbs. As soon as Barry was turned over, Joe let out a heart wrenching sob.

"No, Barry, no," Joe wailed, clutching his son, "Oh, God."

Barry was dead. His eyes were open, blank and staring. His body was covered in blood and grime. His gaunt face, wasted limbs, and emaciated physique left him looking like a skeleton, like a corpse that had been here much longer than thirty minutes. He matched all the others in the pit. Barry had a bullet wound through his left chest, the bullet having gone straight through him. What was the most disturbing, however, were his eyes. They were blank and empty.

Lifeless.

He matched all the others in the pit—naked, thin, and broken. To anyone else, Barry was simply another corpse amongst hundreds of casualties. To Joe, he was so much more. He was Barry.

"Barry," Joe sobbed, pulling the upper half of Barry's body up to hold him in his arms, rocking back and forth, "This can't be happening. N-not after everything. Please, God."

Joe squeezed his eyes shut and clutched Barry desperately in his arms.

"I'm so sorry," Singh choked, hardly able to look at Barry Allen's body, "I'm so sorry, Joe."

Joe didn't say anything. He sucked in a shuddering breath and then tightened his hold on Barry before standing up, Barry's limp, naked body in his arms.

"What are you doing, Joe?" Singh asked sadly, but Joe didn't answer.

Singh moved with him as Joe carried Barry out of the pit. He couldn't blame Joe. If Barry were his son, he would want to get him out of that disgusting pit, too. It made him sick to his stomach to think Barry had died there. He had died, laying in a pit of corpses.

Joe didn't stop walking, though, once they were out of the pit. He moved with urgency, taking Barry as far away from the pit as possible.

"Help!" Joe called out to an EMT who was rushing past, "I need help here!"

The young EMT rushed over to him, medical bag in hand. His expression changed, though, when he looked down at Barry as Joe laid him on the snow-covered ground.

"Sir," the kid said in a strained voice.

"Help him," Joe said seriously, "It's not too late."

"Sir, he's—"

"Help him," Joe said, his eyes boring into the young EMT.

The kid let out a heavy sigh before stooping down next to Barry. Singh wanted to say something, but he knew it was better to let Joe do this. Joe wasn't in any place to listen to reason.

The EMT checked for a pulse and tested Barry's trapezius reflex response. After only a few seconds, the kid let out a small sigh and brushed his fingers over Barry's eyes, closing them. He then reached into his bag and pulled out a large tag.

"Don't you dare!" Joe nearly shouted, snapping out to grip the kid's arm, preventing him from applying it to Barry's wrist, "Don't you dare black tag him!"

"Sir, he's pulseless nonbreathing," the EMT said sadly, "Normally I would perform CPR, but we're doing triage right now. We're only treating the people who have the best chan—"

"You listen to me," Joe said lividly, tears streaming down his face, "This is Barry Allen. He's the reason any of these people are alive. He's the Flash. He's saved more lives than you ever will in your entire career. Now save him, dammit!"

The kid ogled at Joe for only a moment before nodding frantically, his eyes wide. Without any further protest, he quickly pulled out another tag—red instead of black.

This tag didn't read MORGUE.

Instead, it said IMMEDIATE.

Iris knew her dad was going to kill her. She had promised to wait, to not go rushing into the zone before the dust had settled. The violence was over now, though. The fighting had stopped, and she didn't sense any immediate danger in the area.

Just chaos.

EMT's, paramedics, police, and first responders were scrambling through the post-battle carnage, treating the injured, both civilians and MRA. Some metahumans were also getting treatment, but most of them had received green tags reading WALKING WOUNDED.

Some injured, particularly those with red tags, were being transported immediately. Others, most with yellow tags, were being treated on scene. Most Resistance members were helping the wounded now. Shawna's ability to teleport people was a tremendous help, allowing her to easily transport people through the carnage and debris that would have normally inhibited the paramedics.

Iris hardly paid them any mind, though. She stood in the center of the chaos with Wally, looking frantically for her father. She needed to know he was okay, that he hadn't been injured or killed in the fight.

She couldn't lose another family member to the MRA.

"Do you see him anywhere?" Wally asked frantically, looking throughout the crowds.

People were scrambling not only to treat the wounded, but also to search for their loved ones. Iris felt a twisting in her stomach as she watched people reunite with each other, hugging and crying as they found each other.

She would never get that with Barry.

"Oliver said over the coms that they already had Price in custody," Iris said, "Dad's probably looking for…"

Wally nodded sadly at her. Without another word, the two of them started making their way to the west side of the camp—where the body pit was. Iris's heart pounded painfully in her chest as they made their way through the zone. She didn't want to see Barry. She couldn't. She didn't think she could handle seeing his body right now. She wasn't ready to face her grief. She had been suppressing it, allowing all the action over the past couple days distract her from it. Iris could feel it crushing down on her now, and she longed for the numbness again—for some sense of purpose to distract her from the loss she was suffering.

Henry seemed to have similar feelings. Instead of searching for his son's remains, he was currently helping the emergency responders with the wounded, as were the rest of the Team Flash. Iris felt guilty for not helping them, herself, but she was more concerned with finding her father right now. He wasn't picking up his phone for some reason, and Iris wouldn't be able to think about anything else until she knew he was okay.

Iris let out a breath of relief when her father finally came into view. He wasn't searching for Barry's body, like she had been expecting. Instead, he was helping the paramedics transport one of the wounded out of the zone, supporting one half of a gurney, while Singh supported the other. Two EMTs, were scrambling alongside them, treating their patient and giving him compressions while he was being transported.

"Dad," Iris cried in relief, tears streaming down her face, "Thank God!"

Her dad didn't even seem to hear her, though. He had tears streaming down his face as he looked down at the man on the gurney. Iris looked at him, too, as they passed her and Wally like they weren't even there. She knew instantly that the man was a metahuman. For one thing, the man was naked, covered from the waist down by a wool blanket. He was thin in the extreme. Really, he looked like a skeleton, like he was already dead.

And then Iris saw his face.

Wally had to grab her arm to keep her from collapsing.

The hospitals were in a state of pandemonium. FEMA and the DOT had emergency responders transporting patients to at least eight different hospitals in the Coast City Area. After Barry had been loaded into an ambulance—his heart still stagnant—the Wests had wasted no time getting into Joe's squad car to follow. Traffic was horrendous, but they managed to surpass most of it thanks to their squad lights. If they hadn't been able to follow Barry's ambulance, they would have had no way of knowing which hospital he was transported to.

At least they knew they were in the right place.

The waiting room at the hospital was packed with people, most of them standing in the crowded space, waiting to hear news of their loved ones. As far as they could tell, no one had been given any information.

They were no different.

They didn't know if Barry was alive or dead. They didn't know if the paramedics had managed to restart his heart or not. His heart had been still when he was loaded into the ambulance, but they were still hopeful he would pull through. After everything, Barry couldn't die now. He couldn't.

"Where are the others?" Iris asked shakily as her dad hung up his phone.

Joe sighed and ran a hand over his face as he tucked his phone away.

"Oliver, Felicity, Singh, and Cisco are dealing with Price," he said tiredly, "He's in police custody now and under heavy surveillance in the metahuman wing at Iron Heights. No one seems to know yet what's going to happen to him. There will most likely be some sort of trial, but no plans have been made yet. The government's a mess right now. Everyone who was under the influence of Price's powers has snapped out of it, but it's hard to determine who was being controlled and who was acting of their own free will. We're hoping MRA records will reveal more information."

"A lot of people are going to get away with it," Iris said quietly.

Joe nodded sadly.

"Probably," he whispered.

"What about the others?" Wally asked after a moment, changing the subject, "Are they on their way here?"

"Caitlin and Henry are still helping out the medical staff at other hospitals," Joe told him, "I let them know Barry was here, though, and they're both going to get here as soon as possible."

The three of them all turned their heads then when a nurse suddenly called out to the large mass of people filling the waiting room.

"Listen, everyone!" she called seriously, and the room suddenly went dead quiet, "We're overflowed with patients right now, and our staff is doing everything in our power to treat everyone that comes in. Unfortunately, we haven't yet found a way to organize our patient information amongst all the chaos and John Does coming in. I know you all are waiting to hear information about your loved ones, and we're doing our best to keep families updated. Unfortunately, the most information we can give you now is the names of the deceased."

She pinned a single sheet of paper up on the bulletin board of the waiting room.

"We realize this is incredibly insensitive," she said sadly, "But we weren't equipped for this kind of mass-casualty emergency. This list will be updated every hour until we devise a better way to notify families of their loved ones' status."

With that, the nurse walked away, leaving everyone in the waiting room to scramble to see the list she had posted. The waiting room was already packed to the brim with people, a lot of them even spilling out into the street. It didn't leave much room for them when everyone began pushing and shoving each other to get to the list. Wally and Iris stayed back while Joe worked his way through the crowd, desperate to see the list, himself.

Some of the names on the list weren't even names. Most of the patients who were metahumans simply had their ID number listed. Joe frantically scanned over the list, searching for "Bartholomew Allen" or "Metahuman 0226."

"Was he on the list?" Iris asked nervously as he fought his way back over to them.

"No," Joe sighed in relief, "He wasn't."

"That's a good sign," Wally grinned.

"It is," Joe nodded, "But there have been so many casualties, there's a good chance the morgue is filled with unidentified John Does."

"But Barry has a barcode," Iris insisted, "He'd be easy to identify."

"You're right," Joe said, letting out a shaky breath, "He would be easy to identify. From what Caitlin and Henry told me, though, the hospitals are so overrun, they're doing surgeries in the hallways. Many patients are being transported to other hospitals."

"So, you're saying Barry might not even be here?" Wally asked seriously.

"Barry isn't here," a voice said from behind them.

They turned to see Felicity walking toward them, a tablet in hand.

"Barry was transferred to Keystone East Memorial Hospital over an hour ago," she told them.

"How do you know?" Joe asked urgently.

Felicity held up her tablet then.

"This just appeared in the news."

They all looked at the headline of the article displayed on the screen.

Thousands Flood Streets of Keystone in Silent Vigil for Barry Allen, The Hero of the Metacide

Once again, I'm sorry for my poorly-timed hiatus. To be honest, I was going to make my hiatus go to October, but I didn't want to make people wait two more months. However, even though my hiatus is over, my updates will be slow. I don't want people to think I was writing the whole time I was on hiatus because I really wasn't. I couldn't use the time to get ahead in my stories because I was taking summer courses.

I have only a few weeks now to enjoy a small part of my summer, but I'm spending a lot of that time packing because at the end of this month, I'll be moving into my new house on campus and getting used to my new university. I'm in an intense film program, and it's extremely competitive, so I won't have much time to write this fall. I will be writing, though—just very slowly.