Sorry, I know this one is short! It just seemed to flow better if I split what I had into two chapters instead of one. I hope you enjoy it anyway! Chapter 5 should be up late Sunday or early Monday if all goes well. Thanks for reading! :)

Chapter 4

"Barry? You okay?" Oliver's voice echoed out of the past.

Barry sat in S.T.A.R. Labs, alone. The others had gone home for the day, and he was glad of it. Both Caitlin and Cisco had developed a bad habit in the last few days, and it was really getting to him. Between both of them asking almost constantly how he was doing, and their tendency to speak in hushed voices around the corner from him, he felt like a lab rat with a terminal disease.

He knew they only meant well. He knew they were concerned about him. He also knew they were each trying to deal with Oliver's loss themselves. But after talking with Iris on the rooftop, he just didn't feel like chatting with anyone else about his feelings. That conversation had both helped him and hurt him. He didn't really know what to do about any of it anymore. He felt too close to the breaking point to handle anything of a weighty nature. Not Oliver's death, not Iris. Even The Flash seemed too difficult.

It was good that things in the city had been fairly quiet since the news came. Barry's crime fighting schedule had been pretty light, with no metahuman detections or disasters. He still patrolled, but had to admit to himself that much of the reason was now because he could simply run, be on his own and think. Think about Oliver, think about Iris. Both seemed lost to him now.

The moment Caitlin, Cisco, and Dr. Wells had headed out for the night, Barry had pulled one of the computer station chairs into the doorway of the room that held his Flash costume, placed on its dummy for safekeeping. He slouched in the chair; his legs sprawled in front of him, and absentmindedly twirled a pen in one hand as he stared at it. The mask kept drawing his gaze. The mask that covered half of the dummy's face and the smooth expressionless face underneath it combined to make his own suit seem like something a stranger would wear. He remembered Oliver's agitation the night he'd been poisoned and Barry had saved his life with rat poison, of all things. Never mind the fact that he'd almost died, the subject Oliver had cared more about had been Barry discovering his true identity. Barry could still hear his voice. "The difference is that I did my homework on both of you! I don't just tell people easily."

It was interesting, thought Barry, that it had been himself who had told Oliver he should be wearing a mask, and then proceeded to make one for him. One would think, given their personalities, it would have been the other way around. "Take your own advice. Wear a mask."

A mask… Barry straightened up slightly. Maybe he had suggested a mask so quickly because in one way or another, he had been wearing a mask most of his life. Pretending that he loved Iris only as a friend. Pretending it didn't hurt when others saw so little worth in him. Pretending that he didn't know how people laughed at him as he searched for the impossible. Pretending that he didn't think of his parents every day. Sometimes the mask had disguised himself from himself.

Barry let out a deep breath. His knowledge of what Oliver had gone through the five years he'd been absent was very limited. But the scars on his body and the way he interacted with life told Barry a lot. Barry wouldn't even pretend that he had seen the likes of what Oliver had, but he had always felt that they helped and understood each other in a way that no one else did. Because of how they chose to live their lives and the suits they wore, they knew how it felt to be both a part of society and outside it. It was a delicate balance, and came with a price. Barry had always taken comfort in the idea that he had another hero around who would understand. The memory of the two of them leaning on each other like brothers in arms as they limped away from their battle rose up in his mind. "…if not there are two of us, right? Right."

But now there was only one. That, he realized, is what hurt the most. Not only had the world lost a good person and a great hero, but Barry had lost the one other person he knew who lived a double life like he did. And that left a void that was not likely to be filled any time soon. Add that to the loss of Iris in his life lately, and it was no wonder he couldn't quite put himself right.

Iris. She was avoiding him after he'd told her the truth. He knew it, and he couldn't blame her for it much. It had been a huge relief in one way to finally tell her, to let go of the fear that he had always harbored about losing her. It was time to stop trapping himself with fear. But he had known it would change things. And so it had.

Much as he loved her, above all he just wanted Iris to be happy. He had done his best to express it that night, when he had told her and Eddie he was happy for them. Then she had turned and caught him looking at her as Joe lit the tree lights. For one heart stopping second he had thought maybe she returned his feelings. Or maybe at the very least, she wouldn't withdraw and would stay his best friend. No such luck. But he only had himself to blame.

Barry stared at his suit as he thought about their last conversation as Iris and The Flash. Even if she could bring herself to trust him again, she was moving in with Eddie. Eddie with the task force to track down and bring in The Flash. Eddie who was basically a good person in spite of his task force, and who was now going to live with Iris. Barry just didn't feel right about secretly meeting with Iris anymore, not when she was in such a committed relationship that she would now be living with someone.

So now he was on his own. For real. As much as he loved Joe and the others in his life, they filled their own places. They just could not fill the gap left by a fellow hero and the love of his life. Barry had always dreamed of marrying Iris and having a family. He had wanted more than just the life of a hero. He had wanted it all. Barry still believed in protecting the city, helping those who needed it. But now it seemed like that was all that was left. Important pieces of his life were being stripped away far too quickly, leaving him with only one thing.

The blank-faced stranger in his suit stared back at him, and for the first time Barry felt like he understood what Oliver had meant the night Lyla had been injured.

"The part that I am trading away is Oliver Queen. And lately I've been feeling like there's nothing left except The Arrow."