Earth 1

8:46pm

Iris West-Allen knew that she was dying.

She could feel the life slipping out of her with each staggering breath, the quiet - god, the silence- consuming her as the seconds passed. She couldn't muster the strength to move, her survival instincts telling her that movement would be next to impossible in her state. Around her body it felt wet, and sickly warm, and Iris knew that before long she would bleed out no matter how hard she fought. Part of her wanted to scream, yell as loud as she could for anyone who might hear, but as she swallowed down, she almost choked on the desert dryness of her throat. There was no use; no one would hear her cries, no one would come to save her. Oddly enough she couldn't feel any pain, although she knew that her abdomen had been torn open. The only thing reminding her of this was the emptiness she felt where her children had been growing, eight long months of squirming and kicking and pressure and warmth ripped from her literally in a matter of seconds. She felt the tears well in her motionless eyes. God, her children. What would happen to them? Who would have taken them? Why was this happening? A thousand questions coursed through her mind as she brought herself to cry, knowing the effort would cost her what little time she had left. Barry. Sweet Barry. This wasn't his fault. Would he ever know that? He would find them. He would save them. He was The Flash. He saved the people he loved, even if he just wasn't fast enough this time. Run Barry. Run to them. Rescue our children. Love them. They will be wonderful, just like you. She began to whimper, causing her throat to convulse in pain and a staggering cough took over her. The world began to phase in and out, and Iris knew that she was losing.

"B-Barry…" It came out as barely a whisper, "I love you…"

She closed her eyes, having used what little strength she had left.

Earth 1

(2 Months Earlier)

Barry Allen knew he was a dead man.

As he watched his wife, adorning a flattering night shirt and sweatpants- the only outfit that could comfortably accommodate her very pregnant disposition- begin to eat the homemade soup he had crafted, he saw her face twist and lips purse, much like when one eats a very sour apple. This coupled with the fact that after a minute she literally spit the contents back into the bowl, Barry braced himself for the lecture he was sure to get from who had become the pickiest eater in the Allen household.

"Barry!" she called. He couldn't tell if that was anger or disgust in her voice, none of which he wanted to be on the tail end of. He stood at the entrance to the kitchen. "You didn't like it." He tried to sound as sympathetic as possible, but if he had one thing to say about pregnancy is that it could put a big strain on the culinary part of a couple's relationship, especially with twins; twice the babies, twice the pickiness.

She mocked a smile. "Honey," she fawned. Here it comes. "The babies don't like onions, you know that."

She was pulling the baby card. Better than sudden death, but Barry knew this could easily blow out of proportion. He should probably quit while he was ahead and make her a hot pocket or something. Avoid the danger zone.

"Oh, I'm so sorry honey, let me make you another bowl, no onions promise!" He sped and grabbed the bowl, refilled it and brought it back to her in less than 3 seconds. She eyed it and smiled, then took the bowl from his hands. "Oh…how sweet…" He saw her stir around the contents in a very obvious attempt at stalling. Barry knew that she was too nice to tell him that he couldn't cook, but got such a kick out of watching her squirm. Cruel? Maybe. But he knew that he loved Iris and was going to be with her forever and that meant she was going to have to get used to being honest even if that meant crushing his closet dreams of being a chef. Purposefully he stood, waiting for her to take a spoonful, unable to hide the amused smirk on his face. She eyed him back and, accepting his challenge, stubbornly took a bite. Almost instantly she dropped the spoon in the bowl and swallowed hard. "Really Barry? Campbells?!" Realizing he had switched the soup, she stood up and faced him, crossing her arms. He mocked her gesture. "Do you have something to say Mrs. Allen?"

"No, why would I?"

"Because you don't like my soup."

"That's not what I said-"

"Oh, right. The babies don't like it." He shifted his feet. "Iris?"

"…Barry."

"Tell me I can't cook."

She was taken aback slightly by this. "Barry I never sad you couldn't cook."

"No you just never ate what I made you."

She sighed. "Guess I can't argue there."

"Iris, listen to me," He ushered her to the couch, not wanting her to stand around too long, where they rested comfortably across each other. "I only cook because I want to do something nice for you. It's not worth it if you don't even like what I'm making. You can tell me when things aren't the way I think they are." He smiled. "You can tell me when I suck."

She took his hand and smiled sympathetically. "Aww, but you just look so cute when you're trying to impress me." She caressed his hand in hers. "I guess I just haven't gotten used to bursting your bubble. I wouldn't want you to stop doing something that makes you happy."

"Oh, cooking?" Barry laughed. "I would rather live the rest of our lives off take out than cook. I just tried it because I knew you liked it. But since you really don't…" A rush of air pushed Iris back against the couch, and a moment later Barry was back with two pizza boxes. "How about Hawaiian pizza? I heard the world's greatest twins love this stuff."

Iris beamed, and staggered quickly off the couch. Barry hardly had time to put the pizza down before Iris wrapped her arms around him and kissed him. He held her close and smiled.

"You are a terrible cook, Barry Allen," She kissed him again.

"But a wonderful husband."