"Iris," Barry said again. His voice was painfully scratchy, but also it reeked of fond recognition, and warmth.

"Oh my God, Barry. You're awake. Baby. You're awake," Iris breathed of relief.

Barry nodded as best he could, before realizing how limited his range of motion was.

"No, don't move babe." Iris quickly stood, hand still clasped in his, and used her free one to adjust the pillow underneath his head.

"No worry there." Be bemoaned.

"Is that better?"

He groaned. "Yes, thank you."

"Are you sure? Are you hurting? Caitlin can up your dosage of painkillers. Yes. Yes, that's it." Iris let Barry's hand slip from hers as she turned to leave, but a gentle tug stopped her in her tracks.

"Wait. Iris."

Glancing back down, she asked, "What's wrong, Barr?"

"I don't need more painkillers."

Her face dropped. "But I thought."

"I'm sore, yes, but my body is also weirdly numb."

"Thank God."

" I just, I just can't move much," he said, trying in vain.

Beep.

Iris's eyes shot over to the heart monitor.

590. 578. 574.

"Then what do you need, Barr?" She asked, attempting to hide the unrest show on her face.

572. 570.

She gasped softly. He was losing the little bit of ground he'd made.

Her fixation on the screen had her miss the contemplating look on Barry's face. Silence followed, then Barry gulped like he was trying to figure out the best way to say what he was feeling.

"I'm dying, aren't I?" He said a moment later.

Eyes wide, Iris twisted back towards him."No, Barr. What? Why-." Her voice caught.

"Tell me, baby," he croaked, gently running his thumb over her hand. "I'd rather hear it from you than Cait."

Iris pressed her lips together and resigned her gaze up toward the ceiling. "According to Caitlin," she started slowly, before returning her gaze to him, "but, she could be wrong. You've been banged up before. After Zoom. When you tried to get your powers back. Even your coma all those years ago. Nothing is set in stone."

Frantically, Iris continued listing off every single dire situation that Barry had pulled through, hoping to convince him—and herself—that this was not the end.

"NO." He cut her off, more power in his voice them before.

"No?" She asked, slightly taken aback.

"This time is...different," he said, sweeter this time.

"How?"

"I can't very well explain it, but that bomb, that attack...it took more out of me than anything has before. It was laced with something sinister…"

"Thermite...Cisco says thermite."

"I feel like it's draining me of my life force. When I was out, I could feel my soul drifting into a sea of darkness, moving further and further away from this life. Your voice brought me back, but this...is...probably it for me, Iris." he said, every bit of levity gone from his voice.

"Oh, God. Barr," Iris said, finally breaking down. Caitlin's depressing prognosis was one thing, but to hear it from Barry's own lips, the living, breathing embodiment of hope and faith, made this painfully real for her. "I'm so sorry," she bawled, "I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve this. I should have never let you go into battle with that speed demon, Barry. I'll never forgive myself for not asking you to stay."

"Hey, HEY. This is NOT your fault. There is nothing you could have done, and I don't wanna hear you talk like that."

"Don't talk like that? Am I supposed to be happy that my husband, my best friend, my life partner, Is dying? We've been in each other's lives for over 20 years. We were supposed to be happy."

There was an uncharacteristic whine to Iris's voice, one that one almost childlike, like she was pleading with a teacher or parent about not wanting to be put in time out. But it fell in line, perfectly, with how she felt. As her husband inched closer and closer to death, and she faced a life without him, as a single mother, she felt just as small and helpless as a child, bargaining with an authority figure to thwart her punishment.

"We were supposed to at least make it to the golden anniversary," she continued to lament.

Barry digested her words. in silence, eventually offering, "Golden anniversary, huh? Fifty years is a bit ambitious for a woman that would have probably divorced me for someone a little more handsome, with a little less baggage. Someone without a laundry list of enemies," he said, smiling softly.

Iris scoffed in disbelief. "How can you possible be joking at a time like this?"

"Because you are too beautiful to be crying. Now come here," he said, extending his outstretched hand to her.

Tempted to take his hand, and harness the warmth of his body one last time, she looked down at her broken hero, surveying his body.

Between his charred skin, his likely broken ribs, the hole in his chest, he looked like he'd dissolve into dust if she even breathed on him too harshly.

She shook her head. "No, I don't think I should."

Gently, he huffed. "Dying man gets to make the rules, and dying man wants the love of his life."

"No. I don't want to hurt you."

"Thanks to Cait, you could detonate a bomb on my chest, and I wouldn't' feel anything. Oh wait."

He laughed, and the smile that crept across Iris's face was in direct opposition with the mood in the atmosphere, Barry's situation, or every single emotion she was feeling, but there was just something about how, even now, as he was dying, he wanted to make her laugh that touched her heart.

Ever the selfless hero.

"There's that beautiful smile I love so much."

"Oh Barr," Iris said, finally relenting. Slowly, and methodically, Iris raised a knee, so she could join Barry on the gurney. A soft sigh escaped her lips when her head made contact with his chest, and she felt his arms wrap around her.

"I love you so much."

"Not nearly a much as I love you."

Beep.

It was instinct at this point, that Iris's attention would turn towards the monitor. This time, Barry stopped her when she tried, "No," he said voice stern. "I don't want to spend our last few hours together worried about some numbers on a screen, okay?"

Again the machine beeped, and Iris tried to protest, but Barry pushed a firm kiss to her forehead. "Okay?"

"Okay."

Both grew quiet. Though Iris knew that Barry was being strong by establishing the difficult reality for her that she wouldn't, she knew he was just as distraught as she was. "I should tell the others you're awake," Iris said, absently drawing circles over his abdomen.

It was the only thing she could say to fill the lull in the conversation. As long as Barry's heart rate proved steady, even if she knew other factors were at play, she knew they had a little more time. Time that Iris wanted, nothing more than, to spend in Barry's arms, but she knew it would be selfish of her to hog it all for herself. He'd impacted many lives, and everyone deserved time to say their goodbyes.

"They're still here?"

Iris nodded. "Of course, Barr. They just wanted to give me some privacy. Caitlin didn't think you'd wake up on your own, or if you'd even be able to speak if you did."

More silence followed. "I see. And. And-?" His voice dropped off. For all of his strength, he was displaying for Iris, there were so many unspoken words he couldn't bear to say yet.

How he believed, that even from beyond the grave, he'd never be able to forget the impact Iris had made on his life, and how he hoped the small, minute moments between them, like the way she got angry with him when refused to tell her how bad of a cook she was, were the highlight of his morning, or how beautiful she looked when she first stepped out of the shower, every trace of makeup washed from her beautiful, glowing face, how sometimes he didn't mind getting beat up by metas, because she gave the best damn backrubs in the world, and made the pain worth it, were what he hoped he'd never be without.

How he'd hit the jackpot, in every sense of the word, in both a best friend and a wife, for there would never be anymore more beautiful, kind, and better for him than her but also..how sorry he was for putting her in this position.

How much he hated that these powers, which were supposed to be used to protect her, had put a target on their backs, and had ultimately taken him away from her. How he was sorry his debt to the city was now put in her name, the thought of everything they were going to miss out on was making his stomach quake.

How. How...

"Is Nora here?" He finally spit out

His beautiful, sweet, innocent child's name on his semi-charred lips is what finally broke him, evidenced by the violent tears that had started to stream down his face.

"Oh, Don't cry Barry," Iris said, maneuvering herself so she could wipe his tears away with her hands

"Is-is our baby awake?" He asked, hope returning to his voice, nearly drowned out by the sobs.

"She's probably asleep by now. Do you want to see her?"

"No. I mean yes. I mean. No.

"No? Barry."

"Look at me. I'll scare her."

"That crossed my mind, but she deserves to see her 'dada' one last time."

"NO. Okay? She doesn't need to see me like this," he said, voice undeniably cross.

"Okay, I'm sorry. Barry." Iris replied, unable to hide the hurt in her voice.

Barry returned his hand to her back. "No. I'm sorry. I just. Fuck!" He sniffed, attempting to get ahold of his emotions, but it was no use. Thinking about Nora had been the catalyst, which had forced him to face this. "I don't want to die, Iris," he admitted finally, unable to be on any longer. It required way more energy than he had in his reserves. Continuing, he said, "I don't want to leave you, and I don't want our baby's last memory of me to be this scary, bloodied figure."

"I know, baby. I know," Iris repeated over and over, cradling Barry's face in her hands. It was the only thing she could say, for she had no way out of this for him...