A/N: Written for Day 22 of my 25 Days of Westallen Fanfiction event.

*Many thanks to sendtherain for beta'ing.

*I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

Chapter 3 -

The resounding of hammer against iron echoed in Barry Allen's ears as he focused whole-heartedly on the task at hand, blocking out any and all other thoughts.

It had been a fortnight since he'd overheard his parents discussing future arrangements for their little household. After an hour more of restless sleep, Barry woke to find his father gone and his mother humming quietly in the kitchen as she cleaned. Her smile was bright and cheerful when he came into the kitchen and she set before him his early morning meal.

"Your father went down to the clinic early. He wanted to set a few things up before Caitlin arrived. He's going to be doing a few things differently for awhi-"

"I know he won't be charging people, Mother."

That took Nora by surprise.

"I heard you two talking this morning," he said on a shrug, moving his wooden spoon around in his porridge in slow circles.

"You were up early," she observed. Barry only nodded. "Earlier than usual."

He set his spoon down.

"I'm going to find a job today." Nora's eyes widened. "A paying job."

Nora was thunderstruck, unable to find her voice.

"I'm sure your…father will be pleased," she said eventually.

Barry stood to his feet. "I'll go now."

Nora frowned. "But, your- your porridge."

Barry snagged an apple off the table and wiped it against his shirt.

"This'll do."

He forced a smile and headed out the door, leaving his mother in a very worried state.

Because his usual first stop for the last several months had been the Dibny house, he went there before pursuing work in town. Their home was the closest to his, so it wasn't too much of a delay to his task for that day.

"Barry!" Mrs. Dibny exclaimed, opening the door for him immediately. "Come in, come in."

Barry smiled politely and came inside.

"Hello, Mrs. Dibny." He glanced around the seemingly empty house. "Are the children still asleep?"

"Even Mr. Dibny is still asleep," she confided. "And Ralph too, if you can believe it."

It surprised him a little, but not enough to marvel at it.

"I'm earlier than usual."

"Can I get you something to eat?" she inquired, heading into the kitchen.

"No thank you, Mrs. Dibny. I just came by to see if you needed anything before heading out."

"Oh?" She frowned, turning to look at him just as she approached her pot of boiling water. "Are you going somewhere?"

"To get a job," he said, sinking his hands into his pockets.

"Is your family in trouble?" she asked, worriedly.

She knew of Barry's refusal to fall in line with the rest of and had no trouble with it because she enjoyed his company and his help with the children and repair work. Mr. Dibny's back wasn't quite what it used to be, and it was a relief having someone younger and stronger and with more energy to get things done. Plus, the children adored him, and it was nice to not have to worry about payment.

"No, no, nothing like that," he said, waving it off. "It's just time for me to get one. After all, I will need one if I ever want to purchase my own lands and build a home on it."

"Well, that is true," she allowed. "I shall miss having you around, though. You're so handy." She chuckled lightly, waving the towel in her hand in his direction.

He nodded. "I like helping out. I'll miss the kids."

"And they'll miss you," she assured. "Please don't hesitate to come for dinner every once in a while. Maybe you'll actually get to see Ralph!"

A slew of sarcastic words flew through his mind, but he knew better than to say them aloud. He would not disrespect his rascal of a friend to his mother.

"Maybe."

Mrs. Dibny tilted her head to the side, watching him.

"Are you sure nothing's the matter, dear?"

He met her eyes and forced a smile. "Yes, I'm sure." He paused. "Will you tell the others in town if you see them? That I won't be able to step in quite as often as I have been?"

"Of course. Do you know where you will go?"

He shrugged. "I haven't really thought about it, honestly." He tried to think about it now. "Do you know anyone who is looking for help? And is willing to pay for it?"

"Hmm." She propped her elbow on her folded arm and contemplated. "You could try the Smithy," she suggested.

His mind searched for a face and a name. Then it clicked.

"Mr. Raymond?"

"Yes, yes," she said, her excitement growing. "He's been so lonely after his wife died and his son left for the Crusades. I'm sure you'd be a great comfort to him, and he'd be willing to pay you. He adores Caitlin, and so does your family, so I'm sure he wouldn't be put off by you asking for work. In fact, that is already one point in your favor."

His lips twitched. "Yes, that's true."

She turned around and grabbed a loaf of bread off the table.

"Here, take this."

"Oh, no, I could-"

"Do as I say, Barry Allen. Split it with your future employer. He cannot resist my cooking."

Barry eyed her carefully, and then broke out into a grin.

"You amaze me, Mrs. Dibny."

"I am a wonder," she confirmed, and they both laughed. "Now, go, before I find something for you to do and all your efforts are thwarted."

He nodded and backed out of the kitchen, heading for the door.

"Thank you, Mrs. Dibny."

She smiled. "Of course. Good luck to you, Barry."

She closed the door behind him, and he was off with a determined stride towards the Raymond household. On his way he passed Sheriff Devoe's house and looked into the room he presumed belonged to Iris. It looked dark. He hoped she was okay, and that they would see each other again. He had a nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach that they wouldn't, and prayed he was wrong.

Mr. Raymond took to him straight away. Mrs. Dibny had been right that mentioning Caitlin and offering him some bread was a straight sell. But he also appeared to like Barry and trust he could do the job well once he was trained. By the end of the day, he was off to a great start with a gold coin in his pocket that he could take home to his father and mother. And he thought maybe there was something to this whole work-for-pay thing after all. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, even if he had to sacrifice some of the time he used for archery practice. As long as he could still see Iris at night, he could sacrifice just about anything.

But Iris didn't come that night He ran to their spot right after dinner, and he stayed the whole night, not sleeping a wink, until the sun stretched over the horizon and sparkled onto the lake. He sighed to himself, dread filling him. Not because he would likely be of little use today in the Smithy's shop, but because something had definitely happened to Iris, and he worried for her safety. Worst of all was he would never know what had become of her, why she hadn't met for their date when there hadn't been a cloud in the sky. Because that night wasn't the only night she had failed to show. She didn't come the night after or the night after that or any night since.

Barry still went every night. He just made sure to sleep as well and hope she would wake him once she arrived. But he was never woken up. Iris never came to him, and he knew he couldn't very well knock on Sheriff DeVoe's door to ask if she was all right. It wouldn't make sense unless she'd actually confessed where she'd been the last night she returned.

All he could do was hope she was all right and return to their spot every night in the hopes that all would be set right.

A fortnight felt like an eternity, though. He was losing more hope by the day. His spirit was waning. Even Cisco could not bring a smile to his face. He barely ate, and he slept no more than a few hours, wanting to be easy to wake should Iris meet him at their spot. His mother and father had probably begun to worry, but they said little, only exchanging glances between the other when he came home without saying a word, only depositing his coins in the jar his mother had dug up for that exact purpose.

He shut everything out, even the desire for fulfillment and happiness. All his energy went into his work until he could find a way to figure out what had happened to his love. As of yet, no grand idea had emerged.

…

As morning light filtered through her bedroom window, seeping into a puddle on the floor just beside her bedside table, Iris risked the creakiness of her bed and sat up enough to peek out onto the town's streets. She saw him as she has every morning, and her heart broke. He used to look up at her window every day. He used to search for her face in the dark window, and forlorn, continue on when he saw no trace of her. But she'd been there. Every day she'd been there. And she'd wanted to poke her head out so badly, to call out to him, to wave even, to assure him she was okay, because he must be going out of his mind with worry.

She wondered if he'd stopped going to their spot after a full seven days had passed and there had been no sign of her. Maybe he'd stopped after just a couple days. Maybe he thought she no longer loved him, that sneaking around was too much trouble because they had no future. She couldn't bear the thought of either of those things. She wouldn't let herself believe that her beloved Barry Allen had given up on her, but the possibility that he might think she'd given up on him was even worse.

She wished there was some way to get through to him, some ally between the two of them that she could rely on to deliver a message. She knew Cisco was a possibility, but there was no way to reach him either. And since Mrs. DeVoe had carried out her husband's order to not only keep Iris locked away inside the outside walls but now in her own bedroom, she couldn't even think to sneak away. The floorboards down the hall were too squeaky, and Mrs. DeVoe was out late watching her. Not to mention bars had been put over the windows and her door was locked, only to be opened when she was brought in food.

During the day, Mrs. DeVoe came and sat with her, urging her to quilt and to get her attitude in check. If she did that, maybe she'd let her roam throughout the house again. But only if she could prove herself, and only if she said yes to Sir Julian Albert's proposal when he propositioned her.

"Never," she said, spiteful when Marlize put that condition on the table.

She didn't ask how the woman could guess the proposal was inevitable. She'd had a feeling it was long ago.

"Do you want to stay in this room forever, wench?" Marlize barked, cutting Iris deep. "It is by my husband's will alone that you have been raised up, and by my will that you remain untouched in this household."

Iris stiffened. She couldn't allow herself to feel pity for the woman on this occasion. She was too busy fighting for her life.

"Sir Julian is a good man," Marlize continued. "He will be a good match for you, and on his return from the Crusades he will be elevated up even more, and you with him."

"I don't care about riches!" Iris cried. "I'd rather wear torn cotton drenched in mud than marry a man who does not love me."

"Love," Marlize scoffed. "Love comes with time, my dear. And sometimes it disappears entirely. Sometimes you cannot make a man love you no matter how hard you try. And you can't keep him from falling out of love with you, either."

Iris pursed her lips tightly.

"And don't think I don't know where you've been sneaking off to. I know it's happened more than once. I've had my suspicions from the beginning. This is just the only time you were caught." She stood to her feet then, as through with the conversation as Iris was. "And if you think your love, Barry Allen, will save you, you are gravely mistaken. If he tries to come, and if you encourage such action or find a way to seek him out yourself, I assure you Clifford has the power to destroy his family. And he will if it proves necessary."

Iris' heart sank at that. Was there no way out of this God forsaken situation?

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered, unable to stop tears from filling her eyes.

Marlize hesitated, then pushed past whatever made her do so.

"Because I am loyal to my husband," she said. "One day you will understand."

And then the door shut behind her and Iris burst into tears. Many hours after she'd recovered, Mrs. DeVoe returned with a plate of food, a new dress, and the announcement that a tutor would be coming to see her, and after that a visit from Julian, and that she better be delighted to see the both of them.

Well, she hadn't been delighted to see either of them and had been locked away in her room for two days without food as punishment. So the next time they came she was a little less snippy, but she was also resigned, tired of the fight. The DeVoes must have seen it as an improvement though, because that day Iris got not only her regular meal but also dessert. She didn't eat the latter. She could only think of how she would have surprised Barry with it had they been able to meet up.

She so longed to see him again – really see him – to look into his eyes and see the love there. She dreamed of his lips on hers, soft and gentle and hungry. She missed being wrapped into in his arms and listening to him tell her he loved her over and over. Memories of them running through the forest, carving their initials on that big oak tree, and staring up at the moonlight seemed like a dream.

She clung to them though. It was her only light amidst the darkness.

…

Julian's paced back and forth in the library, his patience growing thin.

The veiled promise his tutor had made to deliver Maid Iris into his arms without worry of her heart belonging to Barry Allen had fallen short in the past fortnight. While it was true that Iris' bitterness towards him had waned, excitement had hardly taken its place. She was nowhere nearer to saying yes to his proposition of her own volition than she'd been before. And her resigned unhappiness told him what he should have seen all these months under the DeVoes' care.

Barry and Iris had stopped seeing each other. Something had happened recently to cut short their meetings, which he knew was to his benefit. But it didn't make Iris fall out of love with Barry. It only made her long for him more. Because his absence in her life was not due to his betrayal but to the DeVoes most likely forcing them apart. And star-crossed lovers being apart by force was no solution to subduing their feelings. If Julian truly wanted Iris to even consider him as the man of her heart, there had to be a betrayal from Barry. She had to decide he wasn't worthy of her love.

The current strategy was an inadequate one, and annoyingly he felt he was to blame for putting a supposedly perfect plan in the hands of his tutor.

Footsteps approached from down the hall and Julian knew he was going to burst. If it was anyone but his father, he was going to explode. In fact, even if it was his father, he was afraid he wouldn't be able to hold back. He would pay for it later, but with how much he was boiling over he didn't know if he could help it.

"Sir Julian," his tutor said, the calm voice angering Julian further. "You called for me?"

Julian turned towards him suddenly, the fury evident on his face.

"You are upset," he concluded.

Julian debated whether to draw it out, make his infuriating tutor figure out for himself. But he didn't have the patience for that. He needed answers. Now.

"You told me you were going to fix the situation with Iris," he barked. "I waited for things to change, but she does not love me any more than she did before I told you, before you promised to change things for my benefit. If I had the ability to punish you for this, I swear I would."

Eobard looked at him calmly and walked further into the room, languidly taking a seat.

"I promised you nothing." He folded his hands in his lap.

Julian stalked over to him. "You said-"

"I confirmed openly what you desired. You did not deny it, and I did not agree to pursue any course of action except to drop the subject and pretend as if it had never been spoken about."

Julian's jaw dropped. It was true that no contract had been drawn up, no words had been officially spoken, but he'd assumed the nonverbal cues were one in the same. He'd assumed Eobard Thawne was taking down Barry Allen and his loyalty from Iris West in secret.

Had he truly been so mistaken?

"However," he continued, pulling Julian out of his wild thoughts. "I will not say that young Bartholomew and Maid Iris' now strained relationship was completely without my influence."

Julian's eyes narrowed.

"What did you do?"

Eobard shrugged. "It is of no consequence. At any rate, it was only the first step."

"A foolhardy step," Julian bit out. "They are quite possibly more enamored with each other than they were before!"

"Quite possibly, yes," he allowed.

Julian could not react with words. He stood there, mind blown, bursting at the seams, eyes blazing.

"There were two possibilities you were willing to explore, if you recall."

Julian swore he could feel smoke blowing out of his nostrils and his ears. He felt like an angry dragon about to slaughter its prey.

"The only possibility I care about is turning Iris against Barry, making her love me instead, making her detest him, making her want him dead."

Eobard raised his eyebrows.

"You were also willing to have him disappear."

Julian forced his mind to clear.

"He has disappeared. They are not seeing each other any longer. It has changed nothing."

"Disappeared from town. Thought to be dead or at the very least on the run. Isn't that another very desirable option?"

Julian's hands clenched and unclenched. He told himself to breathe.

"A false accusation," he said, remembering. "A convincing one."

Eobard nodded. "Indeed."

Julian blew out a gust of air and sat in the chair opposite his tutor.

"And how does separating Barry and Iris further aid in this?"

Eobard looked contemplative, as if he should keep his secrets to himself. In the end, he apparently found it acceptable to share some of his plan.

"Lovers torn apart have a way of finding each other."

"It has been a fortnight." Julian waved his arm about. "They have not seen each other. I would know it from Iris' demeanor towards me."

"It is only a matter of time," he assured. "Barry will find a way to her. And when he does, he will be walking into a trap."

Julian relaxed into his chair, wanting to believe it.

Finally, he said, "How do I know I can trust you?"

Eobard smiled serenely. "Because I am your tutor. Your welfare is my top priority."