*Many thanks to sendtherain for beta'ing.

Chapter 7 -

The soft, steady beep coming from a hospital monitor woke Barry sometime later. He found he was laying in a hospital bed with oxygen running through tubes into his nose, and that everything hurt. His face, his ribs, his gut…it was as if he'd been beaten up a thousand times over. He knew Eddie had hit him a few times and that he'd gone unconscious due to it, but he didn't think it had been that bad.

Maybe he was dreaming. Or it could be a nightmare. Hell, this whole thing could be a nightmare concocted from the remnants of dark energy swarming through him during his time in the speed force.

But he knew he wasn't that lucky.

A slight knock on the door, and a doctor walked in. Barry's brows furrowed. He didn't remember seeing this man at all. And it was dark outside from what Barry could tell through the windows, so it had to be nighttime. Yet he couldn't recall any time passing.

Where was Iris? Was she okay? Eddie hadn't sounded happy when he stormed into the loft calling her name. He hoped Eddie wasn't abusive in this timeline. He really, really hoped he wasn't.

Barry tried to sit up slightly but found himself experiencing an excruciating, sharp pain across his middle.

"Whoa, whoa, there, sonny, take it easy now."

The doctor came over to him and eased him back down.

"You took quite a blow, several of them actually. Nothing's broken, but you're pretty bruised just about everywhere. Can you tell me what happened?"

"I…"

Should he tell the doctor about Eddie's punches that he remembered? Would Iris hate him forever if he pinned even what he couldn't recall on her husband? But wouldn't sharing what he knew be helpful in finding out the culprit if it wasn't Eddie?

Before he could answer, Iris burst through the door. She was just about to reach for him when she clearly remembered how injured he was. She stopped abruptly.

"You're awake!" A tear dripped down her cheek. "I thought…I thought we lost you."

Barry's eyes widened, and he turned to look at the doctor.

"We couldn't wake you when you first arrived, and your breathing was very shallow. The only thing that assured us you were still alive and kicking was the painful moans you gave whenever anyone tried handling you on and off the stretcher."

"Scariest moment of my life."

Barry winced as he lifted his arm to grasp her hand.

"Oh, Barry, you shouldn't-"

"Relax. My hand's not broken." He paused, then looked at the doctor. "Right?"

The doctor chuckled.

"If you're moving it without pain, then it's not broken."

Barry smiled tentatively.

"You see, Iris. No pain, no problem. Hold my hand." He pushed his head back into the pillow. "Please?"

"Better do as he says, Miss." The doctor smirked.

Then, sensing some tension between the two, he took a step back and told Barry he'd come back later and to press the red button on his remote if he needed a nurse to come into the room.

Barry nodded, and Iris thanked the doctor, before the older man left and closed the door behind him.

Immediately following his exit, Iris pulled a chair up to the bed and sat down, taking Barry's hand again. She ran her thumb over his fingers and then pressed the back of his hand to her face, letting tear after tear melt into his skin.

"Iris," he tried to soothe. "I'm okay."

She scoffed. "You are not okay."

"Well, I will be. I'm breathing, I'm awake, and this doctor will take good care of me. I'll be up on my feet again in no time."

She snorted in disbelief.

"This is all my fault," she said, and Barry wondered then if she somehow knew.

"What are you saying?" he asked, after an extended moment of silence.

She licked her lips. "What do you remember, Barry? What's the last thing you remember?"

He hesitated. "I'm afraid to tell you. I don't know if you'll believe me."

The hurt stretched across her face cut through him, but it was the truth. She was a loyal best friend, but she was an even more loyal wife. Regardless of what had happened, if Eddie hadn't told her what he'd done, would she have trouble believing it?

"I'm your best friend, Barry," she choked.

"And you're Eddie's wife," he countered.

Her eyes widened, and she released his hand.

"No…" She stood up and walked away. "No. No. No."

He said nothing.

"It couldn't!" She spun around. "Not-"

"Okay, Iris, not Eddie," he said, aggravated and wanting to run his hand through his hair if only it wasn't in a sling. He wondered why that was if it wasn't broken. Was it sprained? Had he moaned about that specifically? Why hadn't he noticed it till now?

This was all too much. He wanted to be unconscious till now.

Iris took a breath and approached him again.

"Tell me what you remember," she requested again, taking a seat and holding his hand. "I promise I won't interrupt this time."

He sighed. "Why would this time be any different than last time?"

She frowned. "I interrupted you. Maybe you weren't going to say…what I think you were."

"I think I was, Iris."

"Just- tell me. From the beginning."

"Fine. Eddie jumped me."

"Barry."

"I'm not lying, Iris. I didn't even get the chance to turn all the way around and Eddie was right there saying how he knew I couldn't be trusted and punching me until I was knocked out. The last thing I remember hearing was him calling your name as he stomped into the loft. Then everything went dark."

She swallowed. "He saw us at the gala."

He blinked. "What?"

She sighed. "What you're saying is right, at least about how he came into the loft."

"Iris, I'm not lying about-"

"He felt bad about our fight earlier, so he got dressed up and went to the gala late, hoping to apologize. But when he arrived, he saw the two of us dancing, looking very 'in love' from his viewpoint, and he lost it. He stormed out, got drunk and came home an hour later…right after you had left." She bit her bottom lip. "Barry, do you really think he could've done this to you?"

Barry sighed. The Eddie he knew wouldn't have gone that far. But this Eddie? He had no way of knowing. He'd only seen him on two occasions that he could recall experiencing, and on both he'd punched him.

"It could've been…someone else…too."

"Too?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

"I know what I felt, Iris. Your husband punched me until I blacked out."

Her lips thinned.

"But…he only punched me a few times. Not enough for…" He looked down his body and gently shrugged one shoulder. "All of this."

Iris looked visibly relieved.

"I knew it. I knew it couldn't be him. He would never…"

"Iris," he countered. Eddie had been partially responsible, at least.

"I need you to not say anything, Barry."

He blinked. "What?"

"He could get suspended. Or sued. My dad would sue him, I'm sure of it. And he'd ask for an amount we can't pay. Hell, Eddie could lose his job over a charge like aggravated assault to an innocent civilian. And he did it while under the influence…" She shut her eyes. "Promise me, Barry. Promise me you'll say you don't remember."

"Iris."

"If someone else-"

"Finished the job?"

She winced. "Well, if someone did, there's no need to drag Eddie into this. I'll convince him to go to anger management training, or…something, I don't know. But he can't lose his job over this. He can't. Especially if he's not guilty."

"He is guilty!"

"Not for all of it!" She released his hand again, then clutched her hands firmly in her lap. "I'm sorry, Barry. I'm sorry. I know it's wrong for me to ask this of you, especially in your condition, but please just…consider it?"

He stared at her, not saying a word.

She swallowed, then stood up, stepping away from him.

"I'll tell my dad you're awake. But…don't tell him either? Because if you tell him, he'll tell the doctor for you, and-"

"Then don't send him in, Iris," he said, deadly serious as he stared her down.

Iris' lips parted, and he could see she was fighting with herself to say something else, but in the end she didn't. She left the room and closed the door, and Barry hit the button for the nurse to request pain meds before he drifted off to sleep before another encounter.

…

By the following afternoon, Barry had evaded the doctor's questioning a grand total of three times. It was just lucky for him that the staff had more or less concluded he'd been attacked and not run over by a car or a train, the latter of which would've likely killed him. Also, doctors were very busy with making their rounds and the like, so if Barry wasn't awake when he came around, chances were he'd just come back later instead of forcing him awake.

But Barry knew he couldn't keep this up forever. They needed an official diagnosis, and for that they needed a cause, and not just by speculation either.

Barry was dreading the time he'd really have to say something. Because of course he didn't want Eddie to lose his job, but he had beat the crap out of him and potentially come back to finish the job, so…

"Hey there, handsome."

Barry turned to see who had come through the door. It wasn't Iris, and it wasn't anyone he had expected. Looking fresh and clean and sober, Linda Park came waltzing into the room and sat in the chair Iris had occupied the night before.

"What the hell happened to you?" she asked, crossing one knee over the other.

He wanted to laugh.

"If I could tell you, I would."

"That bad, huh?"

He nodded. "And then some."

She blew some of her dark locks off her face.

"Well, I guess that blows the dinner plans I was hoping to have with you at the restaurant Scott occasionally frequents."

Then he did laugh.

"Yeah, Linda, I'm kinda in a predicament right now."

"Too bad."

He snorted. "Is that the only reason you came? To make me feel guilty about-"

"No, no, of course not!" she was quick to say. "I was actually hoping you could fill me in on what happened to me last night."

"Ah."

"And to see how you were doing, of course."

"Of course." He smirked.

She waited.

"Well, what's there to say? You encouraged me to make up with and dance with Iris, so I did. I danced with you once and then rejoined Iris. By the time the event was closing up you were drunk and hanging off Scott's arm."

She grimaced.

"I got him to take you home by convincing him to be a gentleman first and an employer later. Not sure if you've still got your job or not though. Getting drunk at a company event and all that."

She nodded once.

"Noted. I shall beg for mercy and forgiveness when I go in tomorrow."

"Without flirting," he reminded her. "I think you need to be a little more subtle going forward."

She laughed. "Without flirting, got it."

They both smiled for a bit, and then Linda ventured forth with genuine concern.

"So, how are you and Iris by the way? Can I assume all is well or is she responsible for your injuries here?"

He winced as he adjusted himself slightly in the bed.

"She's not responsible, but things between us could not possibly be worse. Although maybe I shouldn't say that. Things can always be worse."

"Oh, no. What happened?"

"Let's just say…I really, really hate that she's married to Eddie, and not just for the usual reasons."

"Oh boy. What are the unusual reasons?"

"Oh, how I wish I could tell you… But Iris asked me to, well, she demanded I keep quiet-"

"And did you agree?"

He frowned. "No."

"Well then tell me. Or tell Joe, because he'll take your side first, since you're the injured party and he sees you as a son. Plus, from his point of view Iris and Eddie never should've married. He is most definitely the guy to have in your corner."

"But I can't tell him."

"Right, because then you'll be betraying Iris. Even though you never agreed to anything."

"I think it was implied." He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"But I'm an objective party. I can keep a secret. Iris is my co-worker. We're work friends at best, and at a distance at that since we write for different parts of the paper."

"So? You and I aren't friends either."

"But we've interacted more, and on a friendlier level. As more than acquaintances but less than friends."

"Which still makes us not friends."

"My point is…you can trust me."

"Until you get drunk again and something slips."

She sighed. "You have to tell somebody. Who else do you have to tell that isn't me?"

He thought about it, and realized she was right. In this timeline, Cisco and Caitlin didn't even know him, and neither did any version of Wells. Iris was his only friend, and she was compromised at the moment, maybe indefinitely.

"Why do I have to tell somebody?" he tried.

She rolled her eyes. "Because it'll eat you alive if you don't."

Okay, she had a point.

Maybe he should tell her about everything. Being a speedster, losing his speed, Iris returning his feelings and being his fiancée, his mother's murderer being his evil nemesis…

Or maybe not. She'd probably think he was crazy.

He could start with his immediate problem.

"Okay, I suppose I could tell you what's up with me and Iris."

Linda smiled brilliantly.

"Fantastic!"

He shook his head at her, but he was smiling.

"I think Eddie did it," he said at last, after going quiet.

Her smile faded slowly, then she blinked dramatically.

"What? You're kidding. Eddie's the one that put you in the hospital?"

"There could've been another person, but he's definitely partially responsible. I remember him hitting me after I dropped Iris off at their place."

"Enough to put you in this predicament though?"

"Yeah, that's what I don't know. But who else would've come back later to finish beating someone up?"

"Was your wallet gone? Anything of value?"

He shook his head. "And if it was a mugger, surely something would be, don't you think?"

Linda bit her lip.

"Okay, let's just keep this between us. You want to be careful accusing a police officer when you're not 100% sure they did it, especially one you know."

"I know, but the doctors keep asking me if I remember anything… Am I supposed to lie straight to their face? When it might help me get better sooner? I can't stay here forever."

"No, of course not. I know!"

"What?" His eyes widened.

"Leave it to me," she said, folding her arms. "I am your girlfriend in training after all. The least I can do is get my beau out of the hospital."

He winced. "Please don't say beau."

She laughed. "I'll take it under consideration."