Homecoming

Joe remained frozen in the doorway, staring wide-eyed at his daughter, still hardly believing she was there, sitting in his dining room.

"Iris," Joe breathed, "What are you…?"

"Where. Is. Barry?" Iris demanded in a steady voice, emphasizing each word.

"He's not here," Joe replied, setting his coat down on the couch with a sigh as he crossed the room to join his daughter at the table.

Before he could sit, however, Iris decided to stand.

"I figured that much out," she growled, coming face-to-face with him.

"Iris," Joe shook his head, "Why are you home so early? You were supposed to be in Kenya for another—"

"I was sent home," she answered, crossing her arms, "Or called home I should say. My boss wanted me back here as soon as possible, seeing as I'm the Flash writer and the Flash has been missing for over a month."

Iris shook her head at her father.

"What the hell is going on, Dad?" she demanded, "And don't tell me Barry went to visit his dad. I already called Henry. He hasn't seen Barry in months."

Joe let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand over his face. There was no use in continuing the lie now. Iris had called him just the day before, asking about the news reports circulating saying the Flash was MIA. He had come up with the excuse that Barry was visiting his dad.

He had thought it would buy him at least a couple days before Iris would ask any more questions. He hadn't considered the possibility that the CCPN might call her home to investigate the Flash's disappearance. Now, in retrospect, Joe was kicking himself for not seeing this coming sooner. Of course Iris was always going to find out the truth.

He just wished she had better timing.

Joe sank down in a dining room chair, though Iris remained standing.

"Dad," she snapped, "Don't make me ask again. Where is—?"

"STAR Labs," Joe answered, before she could repeat the question.

Iris blinked at him, as if shocked he had actually given her an answer.

"What's going on?" she pressed, "Is he okay? Is he injured or something? Why hasn't he been—?"

"Iris," Joe sighed, cutting her off, "Sit down."

Iris frowned as she stood there, considering him a moment before sighing and pulling out her chair.

"Are you going to tell me the truth?" she snapped as she sat down, "Or just another lie?"

"No more lies," Joe shook his head, closing his eyes in the anguish of having to be the one to tell her, "You deserve to know the truth."

"And that would be?" Iris prompted, her eyes boring into his.

Joe sucked in a deep breath, but no words escaped his lips. His daughter waited impatiently across from him, her frustration growing more palpable with each passing second.

"Barry is…" he started, looking down at the table as the words died in his throat.

Now he knew how hard this had been for Barry when he had told him. Joe remembered that night all too well, and now, like Barry, he felt the same crippling struggle to find the right words.

"Dad," Iris whispered.

Joe looked up to see that all the anger had disappeared from his daughter's face. Her expression had warped into one of fear.

It was then Joe realized the tears that had formed in his eyes. He impatiently wiped them away and took a deep breath.

"He has cancer, Iris."

Iris didn't wait for her father when they reached the STAR Labs parking lot. As soon as the vehicle was in park, she was out the door. Her father called after her, but she darted into the building, her thoughts focused on one thing:

Getting to Barry.

Her father caught up with her, however, when they reached the elevator.

"Iris," he gasped, trying to catch his breath, "Don't…don't ambush him. He doesn't even know you're here yet."

"Well, if he had answered my calls he would," she snapped, her breath hitching in her throat as she shook her head, "Why didn't he tell me?"

"He's terrified," her dad said softly, causing the balloon of anger in her chest to deflate slightly, "He's been terrified to tell you, Iris, and his dad. He was terrified to tell me."

Iris bit her lip and shook her head, casting her eyes to the elevator floor. She wished she didn't understand, but she did. She understood Barry, how he thought, how he felt. That didn't make being angry with him any easier.

"Iris," her father said softly, waiting for her to look up before continuing, "I know you're mad, and you have every right to be—with me, with Barry—but I need you to set aside your anger."

When she opened her mouth to speak, her dad held up a hand.

"Just for right now," he said, "Your anger is justified, but right now isn't the time or place for it. He's sick, baby girl. He just got his chemo a couple hours ago. I know you're angry, but please…just don't ambush him. Not like this."

Iris shook her head, taking a deep breath and letting it out through her nose.

"I won't," she said softly, feeling her eyes prickle.

When the elevator door opened and Iris stepped out, she had lost the determined stride she had had while entering the building. Her footing was less sure now as she walked into the cortex.

She didn't know what she was going to say. She wanted to rage and scream at Barry, and she wanted to hug and take care of him. For now, she decided, she would settle for the latter. Her father was right. There was plenty of time for anger later.

Iris came to a halt at the cortex desk, looking around the vacant room. Where was everyone? It didn't take expert reporter skills to figure it out, considering the circumstances. Sure enough, Iris could hear a hushed beeping sound drifting out from the med bay. The blinds to the windows were closed but the lights were on and the door wide open.

She took only a few steps toward the door before she felt her father's hand on her shoulder.

"Let me go first," he said gently.

Iris nodded, reluctantly allowing her dad to enter the room before her. She heard the soft murmur of words being exchanged for a short moment. Iris had half a mind to ignore her father and enter the room. Before she could, however, her father reappeared in the doorway, waving her in.

Iris held her breath as she stepped into the med bay. As she crossed the threshold, the faint smell of rubbing alcohol and antiseptic washed over her. Caitlin was standing in the room next to her father.

"Hi, Iris," she said, giving her a small, sad smile.

Iris nodded back to her, hardly sparing her a moment's glance. Once her eyes fell on Barry, the rest of the room disappeared.

He was asleep, lying in the med bay bed. He had oxygen tubing under his nose, and he was hooked up to an IV and heart monitor. Barry was ghostly pale, even for him, and he had dark shadows under his eyes, ones that gave him the resemblance to someone recovering from a broken nose.

And despite all of this, Iris was shocked by how…normal Barry looked. She didn't know what she had been expecting. For him to have emaciated into a skeleton? To be bald? She had been imagining the worst.

Regardless of her initial relief, when Iris looked at Barry, she still felt a pain in her heart at the mere sight of him. She couldn't summon her anger now if she wanted to. He looked so awful. Barry didn't look as bad as she had imagined, but he was visibly sick.

And she had noticed it from the very start, she now realized. Iris had noticed his weight loss, his lack of appetite, his off behavior. She had seen all of it in the few weeks leading up to her departure for Kenya. She had asked him about it.

And he had lied to her.

In this moment, however, Iris didn't feel anger with the realization. All she felt was hurt. Hurt for having been lied to again. Hurt for Barry, who had clearly been suffering these last few weeks. All the times she had talked to him on the phone…all the lies. Lies to keep her happy. Lies for the sake of her stupid job.

Before Iris could allow her anger to resurface, she realized that the doctor and her father had been talking this whole time. She had been too stunned at the sight of Barry to listen to what they had been saying. She made herself listen now.

"…you use the same nausea medication as last time?" her father was asking, "It seemed to work really good."

"Nausea wasn't the issue this time," Caitlin shook her head, "He threw up only once before I got his meds balanced out right. There were other complications this time."

"What kind of complications?" Joe asked, glancing worriedly at Barry.

"There's fluid in his lungs," the doctor told them, "He started having some shortness of breath, so I put him on supplemental oxygen, which seemed to improve his symptoms."

"Is it the tumors?" Joe asked, "The ones in his lungs?"

Caitlin shook her head.

"I can't know for sure," she said, "But I don't think it's the tumors. The fluid in his lungs could be the result of a compromised immune system or from congestive heart failure. It's not just his lungs that worry me though. Barry's hemoglobin levels plummeted as he was nearing the end of his infusion, faster than I thought possible, but understanding Barry's unique physiology is a constantly evolving process."

"Hemoglobin," Joe whispered, "What does that mean, low hemoglobin? Barry mentioned that to me once right after he passed out."

"It's anemia," the doctor answered simply, "A rare form of anemia often seen with cancer and other diseases affecting the blood. Hemoglobin helps his blood carry oxygen. Without it, good lungs or bad, his blood oxygen levels will be lower, causing him to lose consciousness."

"So what can we do?" Iris asked, finally speaking, "How do we fix it?"

She crossed the room to finally sit down next to Barry, taking his hand in her own. She internally shuddered at how cold his hand felt. Barry didn't stir.

Caitlin bit her lip.

"We can't," she said softly.

Joe and Iris both furrowed their eyebrows at her.

"What do you mean we can't?" Joe demanded.

The doctor shook her head.

"I mean," she said, "I'm already doing everything I can. I've been doing everything I can to raise Barry's hemoglobin levels, but my options are limited. I can't even give him blood transfusions, which are vital."

"Why can't you?" Iris asked, her breath hitching in her throat as she squeezed Barry's hand.

"He's a speedster," her father whispered, looking at the floor, "He can't get normal blood."

"I've been giving him Procrit injections," Caitlin explained, "To help his body produce hemoglobin on his own, but they haven't been working as well as I'd hoped."

"So what does this all mean?" Iris pressed on, "What happens if we can't get his hemoglobin up?"

"If it gets too low…he could die," Caitlin whispered, "But he's not quite at the point where that's a concern just yet. The real problem is that I can't administer chemo to him if his hemoglobin is too low. Chemo will only make it worse, like it did today."

"And if we stop treatment…" Joe whispered, looking at Barry.

"The cancer will rapidly spread," Caitlin nodded sadly, "Barry can't afford to stop treatment with the rate his cancer has progressed. Now, this was his last chemo dose for this round of treatment. Barry's finished with the first round and goes into a rest period now. We have a good two weeks before the next round starts, and we'll use this time to let Barry recuperate and see how the cancer has responded so far."

"Has it?" Iris asked softly, "Has it been responding?"

"I don't know," Caitlin answered honestly, "At the end of next week, I'll be doing all of the scans and bloodwork to determine that. I'm just as anxious to find out as the rest of you, but it doesn't pay to run the tests until he finishes this last chemo treatment."

Iris let out a sigh of frustration as she turned her gaze back to Barry. She had so many questions and didn't even know where to begin. She felt like she was asking the wrong person, though. Caitlin was the most informed, yes, but Iris didn't want to hear any of this from her.

She should know it already. She should have known weeks ago.

And Barry should have been the one to tell her.

Perhaps, it wouldn't be wrong of her to ask Caitlin her questions. It was better than bombarding Barry with them when he woke up.

Before Iris could open her mouth to start, however, someone came striding into the med bay.

"Snow, have you seen my—?"

Harry Wells stopped in his tracks when he took in all the other people in the room.

"Oh, it's…" he said, clearing his throat, "…Thursday. My apologies."

He moved to leave the room, but Iris stood from her seat.

"You know, you don't have to go, Harry," she said quickly, "Feel free to—"

"I'm fine," he clipped, awkwardly side-stepping towards the door, "Good to see you, Ms. West."

He disappeared out the door in an instant, before Iris could even respond to his greeting. Iris noticed the way her father's eyes lingered on the doorway after Harry left. He had a frown to match hers, though she didn't know if it was for the same reasons.

As Iris slowly sank back down in her chair, the doctor rounded the other side of Barry's bed and pulled his sheets partially down, revealing his arm. Iris couldn't help but stare as Caitlin pulled out a small vial and attached it to the tubing protruding from Barry's arm.

It was some sort of central line or something, more than a normal IV. It was inserted permanently, covered with a clear, film-like bandage that sealed the site but left nothing to the imagination. Iris could see where the tube disappeared into the crook of Barry's arm, making it appear as if the blood vessel itself was protruding out from his skin. The sight made her shudder.

As Caitlin's vial filled with his blood, Iris's eyes scanned over the rest of Barry's arm. It was bruised and scarred from countless needles and IVs. Iris didn't need to ask to understand the reason for the more permanent IV. Barry's arms said it all.

That didn't mean she didn't have other questions.

"What's his outlook?" she whispered to the doctor, unsure if she even wanted the answer.

Caitlin looked up from the vial she was filling, and for a moment Iris saw her mask of calm fall away. For a moment, Iris saw fear in Caitlin's eyes.

"It's impossible to say," she answered slowly, pulling her calm doctor mask back up, "His case is unique, giving me no statistics to compare it with. I'll know more after we see how the cancer has responded to this round."

"What do we do if the tests are bad?" Iris asked, a hint of panic in her voice, "If the chemo doesn't work, do we—?"

"Iris," Caitlin said softly, cutting her off, "I know you have a lot of questions, and I'm prepared to answer them if I can, but it's really important I run this blood sample first. Barry's CBCs change at an impossible rate."

"Oh," Iris said quickly, waving a hand, "Of course, yeah. Do everything you need to do first."

"Thank you," Caitlin said, giving her a warm smile as she moved to exit the med bay, vial in hand, "I'll answer your questions when I get back."

And she did.

Iris stayed up late into the night with Caitlin, asking the doctor question after question as she monitored Barry. Her father, who she had known was dead tired from the moment they arrived, fell asleep in his chair on the far side of the room. For as tired as Barry looked, Iris could see her father looked nearly just as tired. She wondered how he had managed it, taking care of Barry these last few weeks alone. It had to have taken its toll on him.

Well, he could rest now. She was here to help.

Iris was determined to play a role in Barry's care from here on out. He had cut her out from the very beginning, and now she had lost time to make up for. She was going to be there for him, whether he wanted her to be or not.

Iris was taking her new role seriously. She had pulled her CCPN notepad from her purse and started taking down notes on the things Caitlin told her. She didn't know what half of it meant, but it sounded bad. Kidneys failing. Liver failing. Lungs filling with fluid. Low hemoglobin. Tumors in just about every organ imaginable, including his brain.

That one had scared her the most to hear. How fast the cancer had spread, how much it had infiltrated his body. Iris was no doctor, but the more in detail Caitlin went about the leukemia, the less hopeful Iris felt that it was going to be treated easily.

"How is he?" Iris whispered, causing the doctor's eyebrows to furrow, "I mean…how is he emotionally? How has Barry been handling all this?"

Caitlin took a deep breath and looked down at Barry, who was still sound asleep.

"He's so strong," she said, her voice cracking slightly, "And so stubborn."

A small laugh that sounded more like a sob escaped the doctor's lips, causing Iris to look up. Caitlin was wiping a tear from her eye, but her lips twitched slightly in a small smile.

"If determination were enough, Barry would have this thing beat already," she said softly.

"I know," Iris sniffed, wiping her own eyes now, "I've seen his determination get him through anything."

Iris shook her head and brushed away her tears. She couldn't think about it. She couldn't think about the unfairness of it. Why Barry? Why did this have to happen to him? Hadn't he been through enough tragedy already? Life had always kicked Barry in the teeth and look how he had emerged from all that tragedy: a hero.

Iris couldn't think about the injustice of it all because if she did, she would get angry, and angry was something she had promised she wouldn't be right now.

"I'm glad you're here, Iris," Caitlin said softly, "I've been wanting you here from the very start. We all pushed Barry to tell—"

Iris held up a hand to stop her, taking a deep breath before speaking, choosing her words carefully.

"I understand your hands were tied," she said, her voice cracking slightly, "But you need to understand that this is my best friend right here."

As she pointed at Barry, she realized her hand was shaking and she felt the tears in her eyes spilling over.

"Iris, I—"

"No, Caitlin," Iris choked, squeezing Barry's hand as the tears ran freely down her face, "You watched me sit by his bedside nearly every day for nine months. You've known me longer than you've known him. I just can't believe you wouldn't…any of you…I just…"

"Iris…"

She looked up to see that her father had woken up. She hadn't realized her voice had risen.

Iris shook her head and brushed the tears from her face.

"I know," she murmured, taking a deep breath, "I'm trying my best not to be angry right now, but I'm so much more than that. I'm hurt. I'm so hurt that you've all done this to me again."

She turned her eyes on Caitlin then.

"I was never angry with you for not telling me Barry was the Flash because we didn't know each other that well then," she said coldly, "but I like to think we've grown closer since then."

"We have," Caitlin said desperately, "Iris, I was obligated by more than friendship to keep this confidential at Barry's request. I have done everything in my power to persuade Barry to be honest with—"

"First my dad, now you," Iris burst, "Is everyone going to blame the unconscious person in the room? This is on all of you, not just him."

"Iris," her father said softly, "I know how hard this must be."

Iris bit her lip, holding back tears as she looked down at Barry. She couldn't look at the other two, even though she knew they weren't the ones she should really be mad at. She just couldn't accept that her anger really was directed at Barry. It was too hard. How could she be mad at him when he was sick? When he looked like this?

It was easier to find others to blame.

"I'm sorry," she choked, her lip trembling, "I'm sorry, I…I just can't…I can't…"

Her father crossed the room then, holding out his arms to her. Iris couldn't help herself. She stood and allowed her dad to wrap her in a bone crushing hug as tears streamed freely down her face again.

"I know," he murmured, "I'm so sorry, baby girl."

Cisco paused as he entered his work lab, unable to stop his eyes from rolling when he saw the other man standing in the room.

"A little late to be working, don't you think, Harry?" he said, refraining from mentioning the mess he was making in his lab.

Cisco had been putting forth more of an effort to keep things pleasant between Harry and himself. Team Flash had enough stress right now without the two of them at each other's throats.

"When inspiration strikes…" Harry muttered, not looking up from his project.

Cisco craned his head to peer over Harry's shoulder.

He didn't bother to ask, knowing he would get no answer.

"You need something, Ramon?" Harry grunted, apparently inconvenienced with the interruption.

Cisco gaped at him.

"You're in my lab," he said incredulously.

"I needed the space," Harry shrugged, "And the lab was free. The real question, Ramon, is why are you in here?"

Cisco sputtered.

"I repeat," he gritted, trying to maintain a calm steady voice, "This is my lab. I have every right to be in it, and may I mention, I never asked you why you were in here. I just said it was late."

Harry responded with a dismissive wave of his hand, turning back to his project. Cisco's hands clenched into fists.

"Why are you in here, Harry?" he pressed, spinning the question back on the other man, "Why do you have to be in here right now?"

"Probably for the same reason you are," Harry replied calmly, not even looking at him, "To hide."

Cisco furrowed his eyebrows.

"Hide?" he asked, "Hide from what?"

"Barry's in the building," Harry shrugged.

"So?" Cisco huffed, "Why would I be hiding from—?"

"You know why, Ramon," Harry scoffed impatiently, "You're hiding because of your vibe."

Cisco felt his stomach drop. He had almost forgotten he had told Harry about his vibe. Why had he done that again? He supposed he didn't have much of a choice. Harry had pretty much guessed all of it before he could actually tell him anything.

"I'm not hiding," Cisco huffed, crossing his arms, "And we don't know what my vibe meant or if it will even come to pass."

"So that means we should just ignore it?" Harry challenged, finally looking up from his project to face him, "What about the others? Don't they have the right to know?"

"Would you want to know?" Cisco countered, "If you were Barry? Would you really want to know you were going to die?"

"Yes," Harry replied instantly, "I would want to have all the information."

Cisco shook his head.

"When I asked you about this before, you said you didn't know what I should do."

"I did," Harry nodded, "And now I'm saying I think you should tell him."

Cisco took a deep breath through his nose before speaking in a calm, steady voice.

"What if by telling Barry about my vibe, it discourages him from trying to fight?" he reasoned, "What if by acting on the information, I'd end up causing my vibe to come to pass?"

"The same could be said about doing nothing," Harry countered, "You were given this information for a reason. Maybe we can use it."

"I already told you everything," Cisco said, shaking his head, "There was no information to gain from it. It was just a horror show."

"Really?" Harry probed, "Describe your vibe to me, in detail. Who was in the room? What was everyone doing? What did they say? The details, Ramon. The clues are in the details."

Cisco looked down for a moment, furrowing his eyebrows. He gave himself a small shake.

"I can't do this right now," he said, waving a hand at him, "I'm going to the med bay. My friend is sick."

"He has Ms. West here now to hold his hand while he sleeps," Harry assured him, "You'd be of more help to him here, telling me the details of your vibe."

Cisco clenched his hands into fists.

"You want the details, Harry?" he gritted, "You want to know who was there and what they said? Well, I'll tell you who wasn't there: you."

With that, Cisco turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, making his way to the med bay.

He'd take the wrath of Iris over hiding out with Harry any day.