Work Text:
The first thing Iris thinks when she wakes up is, it’s been 212 days.
It’s the same piercing reminder she has every morning, waking up in a bed that’s half-empty. 212 days since Barry went missing, disappeared into the speed force without a trace. 212 days, and no one knows where he is, not even the geniuses at Star Labs. 212 days her children haven’t had a father; they still ask when is daddy coming home?
She’s thought of a thousand worst-case scenarios. Barry is dead, he’s never coming back, they’ll never find him, he’ll never see his children again. But instead there’s no death certificate, no gravestone, just a mystery of science and a longing Iris can’t call grief but loneliness. It would almost be easier if he were dead.
She could stop living in an in between place and properly mourn him. She could stop noticing how much Bart looks like his father and the way her co workers give her pitiful looks. Iris exhales.
It’s been 212 days, and she keeps surviving. The world keeps spinning. She has two children to take care of, a city to protect, and news to uncover. Barry would have wanted her to survive.
You can do anything, Iris, he always said. Iris isn’t sure she believes him.
***
“Mama,” Jenni says, “we’re going on a field trip to the aquarium on Friday.” Her braids jump up and down, and today she’s wearing an all-blue ensemble. In the last few months, Jenni’s been obsessed with anything sparkly.
“Wow,” Iris says. “Do I need to sign a permission slip?”
“Mrs. Thompson says she’s bringing home one today,” Jenni says. (Mrs. Thompson had asked Iris at parent-teacher conferences, is your home life stable? Where’s your husband? Iris had bitten her tongue and spun her wedding ring in circles.)
“That’s great, honey,” Iris says. “Eat your cereal.” Next to his twin sister, Bart chews on his cereal with vigor, enough to make pieces of Cinnamon Toast Crunch fly out of the bowl. He’s had a growth spurt lately, and everyone comments that he’s the spitting image of his dad: he has Barry’s freckles and dimpled smile. Sometimes it hurts to look at them, to remember all the developments Barry will never see.
The twins turned seven three months ago, and will be second graders this fall.
“Mama, is Uncle Wally picking us up after school?” Bart says.
“He is,” Iris says. “You’re going mini-golfing, remember?”
Bart mimes swinging a golf club and nearly hits his sister in the face. Jenni ducks and says, “Mama, he’s being mean!”
“Bart, please be more careful,” Iris says. She takes a bite of her own cereal. She breathes in. “Uncle Wally will be in the school drop-off line. Remember our special codeword?”
Jenni nods. “Don’t get in anyone’s car unless they tell you chimichangas!”
“Stranger danger,” Bart adds.
Iris smiles. “That’s right.” These kids are the best part of her life in so many ways. They’re so creative and wonderful and sarcastic and funny. They’ll set the world on fire someday. She couldn’t be prouder of her precious babies.
She’d found out she was pregnant a day before their 4th wedding anniversary. Iris and Barry had been on vacation in the Maldives, and she’d told Barry while they watched the ocean. His eyes had lit up, and he’d said, “We’re going to be a family,” and Iris had cried tears of joy. Three months later they found out it was twins, and everyone panicked: would these babies have speedster powers and was this an unsafe pregnancy. She spent nine months getting weekly checkups at Star Labs, and on a beautiful day in February Bartholomew and Jenni Allen had arrived.
Iris loves her babies, and they’re all she has left of her husband.
They finish their breakfast and Iris gets her kids ready for school (of course, with a few dropped pencils and annoyance at zipping coats and “Mama, I forgot my homework”). They manage to climb inside the car, buckle their seatbelts, and make the 10 minute drive to Central City Elementary.
“Bye, Mama,” Jenni says, pulling her mermaid backpack over her shoulders. “I’ll get a permission slip, promise.”
“There’s Ezekiel,” Bart says, pointing at one of his friends playing in the courtyard. Iris made a mental note to invite Ezekiel over for a playdate soon.
“Remember the codeword,” she yells as her kids climb out of the car.
Bart and Jenni yell, “Chimichangas,” and then run across the playground to meet their friends. Iris stays in her car for a moment longer, and thinks: how did they get so grown-up? I wish he was here to see this.
***
Iris’ office has a placard hanging from the door that says IRIS WEST-ALLEN, editor in chief. She’d stared at it in shock the day her boss announced the promotion. She’d been working at Central City Picture News for years, but was comfortable in her job as associate editor. They’d gone out to dinner -- her and Barry, Cisco and Caitlin, Wally and Linda -- to celebrate.
Now, Iris is thankful, because the job gives her a salary she can afford to raise her children on. She opens her office door. Since her babies were born, Iris hasn’t had time to dress professionally; work is the only time she gets to be a professional go-getter. She isn’t in her 20s anymore. Today she’s wearing her favorite burgundy dress, Jimmy Choos, and her dangle earrings. They sparkle in the sunlight and were a gift from her dad for her 30th birthday. Joe adores his grandkids, and spoils them relentlessly; no matter how many times Iris tells him he doesn’t have to, he takes Bart and Jenni to movies and buys them fancy Power Rangers and Lego kits.
Iris sits down at her desk. Her office is decorated in a modern style, with succulents and floral paintings hanging from the wall. Her desk is covered in photographs: Bart and Jenni on their first day of kindergarten; their yearly school photos; a picture of Caitlin, Iris, and Linda dancing; a family portrait of her, Joe, and Wally; and a picture of her first news clipping.
Her favorite picture is framed in the center. It’s Iris and Barry on their wedding day. She’s wearing a lacy dress and he’s wearing a matching boutonniere. It’s not a posed picture: Iris is leaning against her husband’s shoulder while he whispers something in her ear, and they’re both laughing. She doesn’t remember what was so funny. But she remembers how happy they both were.
Iris wishes she could rewind time to that moment. Whenever her job gets to be too tiring, she looks at that picture and remembers what she’s fighting for. I promise to bring you home.
***
The workday passes with a slurry of emails, edited articles, and endless meetings. Iris finishes her work early, pleased with the content for tomorrow’s newspaper. She’s recently been writing exposes about the connection between Central City’s financial district and a rise of offshore trading that’s been connected to the city’s underground crime bosses.
She slides on her coat and grabs her purse, heading out the door. Melinda Francisco is sitting at her desk outside Iris’s office, and stands up. Melinda’s been working for CCPN since Iris has, and was recently promoted to the business editor.
“Iris,” she says, “all the articles for our section should be prepared. I’ve sent the copies to press.”
“Good,” Iris says. “How’s the story about SuperCorp’s IPO going?”
“Brandon is getting more interviews next week,” Melinda says. “He’s trying to get more sources on record.” Iris nods; few employees of one of Central City’s biggest corporations are going to want to speak out against their massive employers’ shady dealings.
“How are the kids?”
Iris grins. “Jenni is going to the aquarium next week, she’s obsessed with sharks. Bart is his usual energetic self, but he hasn’t managed to injure himself lately.” Melinda laughs. “I remember when those two were babies. How’d they get so grown up?”
Iris laughs. Melinda drops her voice to a whisper and says, “How’s the search for your husband going?”
Her entire body tightens. Iris knows that Melinda doesn’t mean harm. Everyone just wants updates. But every time, this question makes her want to scream. The real answer is, I have no fucking idea. I have two kids who are never going to know their father and I’m holding on to my sanity with a spool of thread, so shut the hell up about where my husband is.
“Good, thank you,” is what she says.
***
Iris makes it home to an empty house and texts Linda: are you coming?
Linda is the best sister-in-law Iris could ever hope for, part family and part friend. Wally agreed to take the kids mini-golfing so Iris and Linda could have girl time (that is, gossiping and drinking wine).
Wally and Linda got married five years ago, when the twins were two, in a beautiful outdoor ceremony at a rose garden. Bart and Jenni were the ring bearer and flower girl; Iris sobbed her way through the ceremony as maid of honor; she cried again when she hugged her brother and during her speech to the newlywed couple. All she’d ever wanted was for her brother to be happy, and the fact that he married the most amazing woman in the world was cherry on the cake.
Linda texts back three sparkly heart emojis. Iris feels at peace for once. Sometimes you just really need to bitch to your best friend. She has no idea how she would have survived without Linda.
Ten minutes later, the door swings open, and there’s Linda West (nee Park), dressed in a leather jacket and dangly necklaces. She holds a bottle of red wine in one hand. Iris jumps off the couch and wraps her best friend in a huge hug.
“Girl, you’re clingy today,” Linda laughs as they move towards the couch. Iris already has the wine glasses ready; the liquor is poured and they both drink, bottoms up.
“God, I needed that,” Iris says.
Linda nods. “I know. Rough day?”
“I just keep thinking about how Bart and Jenni are never going to know their dad,” Iris says, and she starts crying.
“Hey. Hey.” Linda wraps her arms around Iris. “It’s okay. Talk, baby girl.”
“I’m just watching them get older, you know? There’s so many things that change. Like, Bart is so much braver now, and Jenni -- she’s a social butterfly, when she was a toddler she’d hardly talk to anyone. Now she’s the life of the party. The older Bart gets, the more he looks like his dad, and that makes me sad, because he’ll never know Barry. He’ll never know the man he’s named for. They’re seven, and the last birthday Barry was here for was their 6th birthday. How many more years is he going to miss? Is he going to come back and they’ll be teenagers, or is he dead and they’ll never see him again? Linda, they ask about him all the time and I don’t know what to say because my stories are never going to be enough. I just think about what it was like growing up without a mother, and how I never wanted my kids to struggle like I did, but they are.” Iris lets out a shuddering breath.
Linda wraps her in a hug. “Breathe in. Breathe out. Do it with me. Breathe in” -- they both take gulps of air -- “breathe out.” They release, and run through the process several more times. Iris feels exhausted but calmer.
“Girl, you don’t need to worry. Okay? You’re not the only one in charge of protecting Barry’s legacy. The kids always ask Wally about Barry, and he tells them the most outrageous stories. Same with their Grandpa Joe and Cisco and Caitlin.” Linda rubs circles on her back. “We all want to make sure they remember their dad.”
“Second, you’re an incredible mother.” Iris sniffles again. “Honey, you’ve survived so much shit and you’re thriving. Bart and Jenni are doing amazing. You’re raising two kids, stopping supervillains, and running a newspaper. You’re a goddamn superhero.”
“I don’t feel like a superhero,” Iris says. Barry was always the superhero.
“You’ve always been a superhero to me. And listen, I promise we’re always trying to find him. Every day. We’ll bring him home. I promise. We’re on your team, Iris.”
We’re on your team.
Iris inhales and says, “I love you.”
Linda hugs her and says, “I love you, too.”
***
Later, Wally and Bart and Jenni come home. Bart and Jenni are hyped up on sugar (“I may have given them cotton candy,” Wally admits) and when Iris asks, Jenni says, “We did it like you said, Mama, we didn’t get in Uncle Wally’s car until he said chimichangas.”
“I’m proud of you,” Iris says. “Go put on your PJs.” The twins give their uncle a final hug and run towards their bedrooms.
“They were great,” Wally says.
Iris gives him a look. “They didn’t have any meltdowns? Refuse to eat cheese?”
“Refuse to eat cheese? That’s a new one,” Wally says, laughing.
“Try taking kids to a vegan pizza restaurant.” Iris rolls her eyes. “But seriously, they were good?”
“Yes, Iris,” Wally says in his patented annoying-little-brother-tone. “We went mini golfing. They kicked my ass. Then we ate cotton candy and went to a malt place for dinner. Bart and Jenni told me all about school, including the kids in their class who are ‘naughty’ and how Jenni thinks her friends parents are getting a divorce.”
“Oh my god,” Iris says.
“You’re raising them to be investigative journalists.” Wally winks, and Iris laughs. “Seriously, though, they were great. I love my niece and nephew so much, and any excuse to eat French fries with them is always a plus.”
“Thank you so much,” Iris says. “I can’t ever repay you.”
“Anything for my big sis,” Wally says. He gives her a hug and whispers in her ear, “If you ever need anything, we’re here, okay?” Iris nods, and they don’t let go for a long time.
Later, Iris sneaks into her kids’ rooms. Bart and Jenni are sound asleep, dressed in their favorite polka-dot PJs. They look so at peace, snuggled underneath the covers. She breathes in, breathes out. As long as her babies are okay, everything will be fine. All she wants is to protect them.
Iris makes it back to her room. She puts on her pajamas, takes off her makeup, and slides into her half-empty bed. Tomorrow is a new day.
It’s been 212 days, and she keeps surviving. The world keeps spinning. She has two children to take care of, a city to protect, and news to uncover. Barry would have wanted her to survive.
So she’ll keep on living. Tomorrow will be 213 days since Barry disappeared, and Iris will survive.