Summary: The Crisis is over and Barry is dead. And now everyone who loved him has to figure out how to pick up the pieces.
Cisco's not sure how to do that yet. He just knows he doesn't want his jagged edges hurting Hartley.
(For Hartmonfest June 26 - Post Crisis)
Notes: Takes place post the previous timeline's crisis in 2024.
Where Have All the Blue Skies Gone?
There was a show that Cisco watched as a kid. Rainbow Brite.
The main character starts off as this little girl, alone and powerless in a terrifying world. Brought there to bring back hope. The little girl does that by showing kindness to the sprites and to the horse she finds there and... something about a baby? Cisco distinctly remembers there being a baby. The whole thing is actually really dark, though, but the girl finds the color belt and through it discovers her own inner strength. She becomes Rainbow Brite and transforms the dark, dismal land into one full of color and cheer.
(Cisco cannot remember what happened to the baby. He's not sure why that bothers him so much.)
The rest of the show was just Rainbow Brite and the sprites and her horse and the Color Kids having fun or kicking butt and taking names. Murky Dismal was the villain that Cisco remembered most and he remembers, fondly, of being a little kid and calling days like today Murky Dismal days. Dante always thought it was silly, but fun. Until they got older and Dante stopped being fun.
Dante's funeral was a Murky Dismal day too. Overcast and humid with a threat of rain that lingers for hours before either breaking up or letting loose. It's just gray and oppressive and awful.
And now Barry's... Barry's funeral is the same way. Gray and awful, like how Cisco feels inside. He's lost two brothers now. He doesn't have any left.
The funeral was tasteful. Joe and Cecile kept Nora with them and Jenna while Iris gave the eulogy. The grave was empty, though. Like Ronnie and Eddie before him, Barry didn't leave a body behind for them to bury.
Barry was only just thirty-five. His birthday was in March and he'd gotten macaroni art from Nora that he'd said was the best gift he'd ever gotten. Cisco remembers laughing at Iris' mock pout.
He can't remember how he felt in that moment, though. Cisco remembers laughing. He knows he was happy. But the actual sense of what happy felt like slips away.
Barry was only just thirty-five. He'd never see thirty-six. It's not fair. He won't get to see his little girl grow up.
It's not fair.
Thunder peals in the distance and the atmosphere of the day is just... oppressive. The worst sort of Murky Dismal day there was. But Cisco stands out on the apartment balcony anyway, in the midst of the awful, oppressive humidity. Because at least out here he feels something. Even if it's just irritation. Inside, with the climate controls Cisco's just... numb to it all.
Barry had been a little like Rainbow Brite, Cisco supposed. He'd brought cheer to the world. Rainbows and happiness. But he wouldn't be running through pride with his bi flag attached to his costume this year. The way he'd done in the years before, giving hope to the queer kids because, look, their heroes were queer too. The Flash was bi and Vibe was Pan and the Pied Piper was gay and Frost was demisexual and a lesbian and...
Cisco was used to being one of the Color Kids of Team Flash. A gender flipped Canary Yellow, maybe. He remembers her being laid back and all smiles. She'd make a great Vibe. Hartley was more of a Red Butler, fearless to a fault, for all that his color scheme was a match for Patty O'Green.
"Cisco?"
"Hey." Cisco looked up to see Hartley - his fiancé and, god, Barry was supposed to be Cisco's best man in the fall and now...
"I brought you tea," Hartley said, holding up two mugs.
Sighing quietly, Cisco took one and finally sat down by the little café table they kept out here. He holds the mug more for the warmth than for the drink. The heat bites at Cisco's fingers, but he wouldn't really taste anything if he drank it. Not in this mood.
"I've been a jerk today, haven't I?" Cisco asked quietly, staring into the drink.
"Not really," Hartley replied, settling into the other chair. "You've been quiet and moody. With reason. I suppose the quiet has been you trying not to be a jerk?"
Cisco shrugged. Nodded. "Yeah, I guess. I just... I don't feel angry. Or sad. Or... much of anything. I feel blank. And at the same time everything hurts."
Silently, Hartley reached out and took one of Cisco's hands in his own.
"He should still be here. He's going to miss all of Nora's birthdays and he'll never be thirty-six and he was supposed to be my best man at our wedding and..." Cisco's voice cracked. "He doesn't get to have any of that and he should. He's not supposed to be dead." Cisco touches his face when he realizes its wet and wonders, for a moment, if the rain had actually begun.
It's not rain. It's tears.
Hartley puts his cup on the table and stands, gently moving Cisco's hands away from his own mug before dragging Cisco up into a hug. And just in time for the dam to break because suddenly Cisco's sobbing, making strangled, ugly noises as his grief finally comes welling up inside him to wash everything else away.
Thunder rolls again, closer this time. But they stand out there until well after the rain really does start, hard rain with wind that blows sideways, drenching them both and ruining their tea. They track water all over the carpet inside and peel off their clothes to shiver mostly naked in their living room.
Hartley puts their ruined tea away in the sink and Cisco mechanically gathers up their clothing to dump in the laundry room. They both meet by silent agreement in the bathroom where they shower together mechanically and dress in soft, well worn pajamas. Hartley makes them soup for dinner and Cisco barely tastes it. He's gone numb again, but worse this time because he can barely speak.
How long until this grief finally ends? How long until Cisco relearns to keep living for himself and for Hartley and... and for Barry?
He lets Hartley bundle him off to bed, wrapping around Cisco better than any weighted blanket. "I was never as close to him as you were," Hartley said quietly as they lay in the dark. "But he was my friend and I loved him too."
Cisco still can't speak for the lump in his throat, but he manages to shuffle around to wrap his own arms around Hartley and press his face against Hartley's chest. He knows he wasn't the only one crying in the rain before they came inside.
Maybe tomorrow they'll see blue skies again, but Cisco doubts it. It's going to be a long while before color eases back into their lives and the world ceases to be gray.