Oh one more thing. To quote Jeremy Knox,,

NINETEEN????!

This is actually so surreal bc when I first read aftg a few good years ago the characters felt pretty distant since I was a bit younger then all of them and now,, nineteen. Nineteeeeeeen. This poor battered boy with the mentality of a grumpy old grandpa who yells at the children playing in front of the house is MY AGE WHAT THE FUCK

well today was better than yesterday I guess. less crying, though I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. I woke up at like noon or so and had a bagel which was enjoyable, and everything kind of stewed for a while there. I managed to sneak enough time to watch this week’s Batwoman episode on my laptop with earbuds in because I definitely couldn’t watch it anywhere anyone else could see it. I liked it, the beginning was fucking heartbreaking, and then some really good scenes throughout it, and props to them for making Kate actually have to deal with her trauma and ptsd from the choices she’s made, so I enjoyed that. I think making the choice for Mouse and Alice to stay in Arkham and rise up there instead of breaking out was highly interesting as well, and I’m excited to see where they go from there, so definite props to the show for making at least some good choices. the rest of the day was pretty slow, a million people keep bringing us food so we ended up having dinner outside on the patio and god my brain keeps betraying me when I was thinking to type just now that we all had dinner on the patio my brain was like “well it wasn’t all of us because we were waiting for Dad to come home” like barely as a subconscious thought and then there’s a stab in my gut when I remember he’s not coming home, this is it, this is my family forever. 5 people now, not 6. and all of that is just really hard to deal with. but anyways. we were talking about handling financial stuff and how to deal with the law office, because in order to own a law office you have to be a lawyer licensed in that state, so you can only inherit one under those conditions, which my mom who would be the first choice doesn’t meet, my older brother does but he’s also currently employed as an ADA and he can’t own what is essentially a defense firm and at the same time be employed by the government as a prosecutor, so he would have to leave his job and take over the firm, which was always going to be the plan somewhere down the road, we just didn’t expect it to happen now. so he has to figure out what he wants to do on that. the other options were like installing another lawyer we trust to run the practice while keeping them on a fairly short leash, or to sell it or combine in with another practice, and when we got to that point in the conversation my mom started crying and saying that is never what Dad would’ve wanted, and he spent so much time building up the practice and all the good will he has with people she doesn’t want to see it just sold off, so we of course comforted her and said ofc we’d never do anything that Dad wouldn’t have wanted. it’s an odd dynamic, dealing with this stuff with my mom, because of course she’s still the parent in the situation, but both my brother and I are lawyers who know the technicalities of it much better than she does, and I don’t want it to be like we’re being patronizing or making decisions for her when that shouldn’t be happening. she’s stressed because of the life insurance apparently not being what we thought it was, but we’re still looking at that, so it’s basically all a big stressful mess. we were also going to have the small family only funeral at the end of this week but ended up postponing it till next week because our pastor’s mother who’s in her 90s just got tested and they don’t know what’s up yet so we’re just wanting to be extra careful on that. what I’m supposed to do with my life until then is anybody’s guess. It’s only been two days so I guess there is still plenty of time to do it, but I’m surprised we haven’t gotten word of the courts suspending cases for another 2 weeks to a month based on the stay at home order being extended to May 30th, so part of me thinks they might just be going “fuck it” and opening them on May 18th as planned right now. if that happened that would probably put me at staying her for like 2 1/2 more weeks and then going back, and I’m just really not sure what I want here, I mean without work I don’t have any real pressing reason to go back to Chi, and my family obviously wants me here as long as possible, but I’m just not sure that’s going to end up being a good choice for me because I feel like I need time to process and grieve on my own because living here with them is not my life and it’s not what I’m supposed to be adjusting to, so I feel like staying here for an extended period of time might not be the right answer, but at the same time with things how they are for now at least I can’t really just tell my family that I’m ditching to go back to Chi when I have no job responsibilities when we’re all still trying to figure this stuff out here. so yeah, it’s a lot to think about and some big decisions to be made, but I guess we’ll see how things work out. sigh. anyway. after dinner I sat with my mom a bit watching hgtv shows as she likes them and then at 9 pm watched the new Legends episode (which actually having to wait until 9 pm for was such an offense), which was of course rightly hilarious and perfect in just so many ways. I know there’s been a lot of back and forth on what is the best format for the show (silly vs dramatic, supernatural vs reality, etc.) but I will say I’ve really enjoyed this season so far. of course that’s partially hampered by my anger/sadness about Ray and Nora leaving (because FUCK PHIL KLEMMER) but they’ve had consistently good performances by everyone else (especially for Zari, fuck Tala is so ridiculously talented and is hands down the best actress on the show, and that’s coming from a die hard white canary fan. she just blows every single scene out of the water and it’s insane to see). I was curious as to why Sara got sidelined tonight, being that she is my favorite character ofc, and in the past when she’s been sidelined there’d been a story reason for it or an IRL reason for it, but I couldn’t really find one here?? It just kinda seemed like the writers went “meh” and didn’t want to write a story arc for her so they just shuffled her to the side. and like I’m sure they’ll use it going forward for the whole Sara developing her superpower thing, but it definitely wasn’t necessary. oh well. after the episode the news was on for a bit and then we switched over to family feud which was fucking ridiculous, and at some point just ended up talking to my brother about things, especially what had gone down on Saturday since I wasn’t here to see it all. and like, yeah it’s stuff I want to know, but it’s all just so heartbreaking because it doesn’t make any sense, he was doing so well and then out of nowhere he was just gone, and I’m having trouble grasping how it all just happened so fast. and as much as my brother annoys the shit out of me sometimes (which he does, a lot) I think he is going to be very helpful going forward and figuring all of this out. he’s always been a total asshole about money, even when it wasn’t his money, so I’m slightly concerned about that, but so far it’s been good so I’m just praying that remains the case. and yeah, a bit after that I headed upstairs, showered, and started getting ready for bed, and now I’m here and it’s almost 1 am and it’s not like I have any reason to wake up early but I should still probably be getting to sleep, so I’m going to do that now. Goodnight loves. Hope your day was a good one.

03/07/2019 DAB Tranbscript

Numbers 8:1-9:23, Mark 13:14-37, Psalms 50:1-23, Proverbs 10:29-30

Today is the 7th day of March, welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I’m Brian it's great to be here with you today like it is every day no matter what part of the week it is. But it's the end of another of our weeks together and they just…they just keep going by and then just keep going by until we complete our journey. So, it's is wonderful to be here around this Global Campfire bringing to a conclusion another of the weeks that we get to share together, and we’ll take the next step forward in the Scriptures. And we’ve been reading from the English Standard Version this week. And today numbers chapters 8 and 9.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for another week in Your word and we just keep marking the weeks and You just keep taking us deeper and we take to heart the words of the gospel of Mark today, “stay awake.” This seems to be the theme screaming out of the Gospels, “have eyes to see, stay away.” And we confess the slumber…the slumber of our lives, the way that we get so focused on whatever it is that's happening to make us uncomfortable. If we could just open our eyes, if we could just wake up and see the vastness of Your goodness and the eternal nature, the never ending-ness of it all and that we are in the middle of it, but that our vision is so narrowly focused that we can see, that we are just under the haze of life. We’re slumbering. Awaken us God that we might see You at work in this world in and among us, through us and all around us. We ask this in the name of Jesus. Amen.

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And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hi beautiful family this is Susan Schultz I’ve been a listener since 2012 but I don’t call in much but I have been the airport liaison for the More conference for seven years and I love you all so much and I pray for you all the time, especially the pilgrims and I love all my More ladies. Hi, I love you. Hope to see you all soon. But I just wanted to call to rejoice with Harold. I have learned through More conference and I even have a jacket that says it, “I can do hard things.” I started running at the ripe old age of 57 two…two summers ago and I have made it my goal to run a half marathon by my 60th birthday which is six 6/6/60. Hey Nora Lee, my other six 6/6/60 DABber. I know that what God has taught me through running is that I can do hard things and when I did my very first...the longest run I’ve ever done since my training started, I was listening to the DAB. It was an 11-mile run and I made it the whole way, but in the middle, I was rejoicing because Harold called in and said that he was saved, and I…I just couldn’t believe it. I mean it’s…we’ve been praying for him since January and I was so excited because my training started in January and he was training and I just…he’s been on my heart ever since. And, so, I just thank you all and love you all. And, so, thank you Jesus…

[singing starts] Have Your way Lord. Have Your way. Have Your way Lord. Have Your way. Have Your way Lord. Have your way. Have your way. Have your way. Someone needs you Lord now today. Someone needs you Lord now today. Someone needs you Lord now today. Have your way. Have your way. Someone’s crying Lord have your way. Someone’s crying Lord have your way. Someone’s crying Lord have your way. Have your way. Have your way [singing stops]. I’d like to ask for prayer for the family and friends of Caleb Mekins a 31-year-old minister who passed away in Ethiopia. This is Blessings Flow in Pennsylvania.

Hello Daily Audio Bible community this is Abiding in His Love from New York. It’s February 29th. This is my first-time calling in. I’ve been listening to the Daily Audio Bible on and off. Today I’m calling in…I actually struggle with calling in. I’ve been trying to call in but every time I put it off and I just want to reach out to the community to pray for myself as a parent for spiritual guidance in helping my daughter. She’s 12 years old and lately she’s been going through some tough times and struggle with self-defeating thoughts. Most days…her days are mostly overshadowed by just feeling oppressed. I know that’s not typical, that’s not of God and the Bible say that He came that we may have life and have it more abundantly. And I’m praying that over my daughter, that whatever spirit of oppression, depression or sadness or self-defeating thoughts, that those will be gone in the name of Jesus and for other parents who are struggling with adolescent children that may be going through the same thing, I pray dear God that we will use our weapon of praying to destroy whatever plans the devil has to destroy our children. So, I ask you guys to keep us in your prayer, to uplift us. My daughter is Kay. I thank you. God bless you.

Proud witness right here in this place it’s the light of God’s love all over my face all those who see me they ask me what’s up it’s the presence of God that’s filling my cup love overflowing in rivers and streams causing reflections visions and dreams dreams of the future reflections of the past visions and fulfillment of all that I’ve asked it could be a gesture a word or touch something so small can accomplish so much because it comes from you Father up in heaven above filling me with mercy wisdom and love helping me to be a blessing today to all those my Father whom you’ve sent my way someone who’s hurting someone in need yet all are desiring to somehow be freed so help us keep patient and do things your way help me dear Lord to have the right words to say someone’s confused about what they heard longing for the truth that comes only from your word there’s a powerful witness right here in this place it’s the light of your love all over my face

[email protected]. Like to give a shout out to Brian, Jill, Max, China, China, Ezekiel and Christian, you know, the whole Hardin family. Thank you so much for this wonderful podcast for God’s Holy Spirit to flow. Keep it flowing y’all. And it was so nice hearing Jill’s voice again. I haven’t heard you in a long time. Sounds good.

Hello DAB listeners my name is Janice and I’m in Illinois. I’m here to report that I’m not just a DABber nor double DABber. I am a triple DABber. Because of a difficult trial I am going through right now I have many sleepless nights. So, instead of laying in my bed worrying and stewing over my troubles I listen to DABC and DAB for Kids and I let God’s words wash over me. I’ve been listening to Brian since the end of the first year of broadcasting DAB. China I was listening the year that you went to India with your dad. As a second-grade teacher in a Christian school I would use those DAB for Kids in my classroom. You were 11 years old. This year they are replaying that first year of DAB for kids. DABber’s, what a blessing it is to hear China and her dad teaching the Bible together. Then I listen to China, the grown-up. Oh my, what an incredible wisdom God has granted you China. So, I am a triple DABber and God’s word is carrying me through this, the most difficult time I’ve ever gone through. Thank, you China for obeying the Lord’s calling on your life. Thank you, Brian and Jill for bringing your children up at the feet of Jesus.

Hi this is Asia from Chicago it’s March 1st and I just heard Tony the Narrator or Tony the Narrator if you say it like him. Hey man. I’m so glad that you called in such a vulnerable spot. I just was really moved and heartbroken to hear you speaking and crying about your ex-wife and her boyfriend and it’s just so…I just can’t…I just…I can’t even fathom how hard marriage, loss, and divorce and marriage breakup could be. I…just this week had just a guy that he and I were talking and then we had a conversation and decided that we were gonna just be friends and it was so hard for me it was really sad. And I just can’t even imagine, I mean a hundredfold the anguish that you must be enduring right now, and I just want you to know that it’s okay to lament, it’s okay to grieve. It’s so hard. It’s not what we want. It’s never what we want, right? And we can do everything we can to distract ourselves. But I’m so proud of you for being brave and strong, for calling it like it is instead of, you know, putting a fake, a pseudo-silver lining over it. “Oh, it’s going to be fine, I’m good, Jesus is good.” Like those are all true things and it is good but brother, kudos to you for being strong and admitting when you are weak. And I’m here for you and I’m praying for you and I love you. This is Asia from Chicago.

Title: Vow Fandom: The Flash Pairing: Barry/Iris Words: 2264 Summary: Barry accidentally runs to 2049 and meets Iris. /set early season 5/

Barry POV

It had been weighing on his mind ever since Nora had told him he would disappear. That he wouldn't come back. He had pictured Iris, trying to be strong for Nora for all those years. And he pictured her coming home to an empty loft, no Barry, not even Nora. He pictured that and his mind shot to an image of the Future Barry. From the timeline where Savitar killed Iris.

No. Iris was stronger than him. Iris wouldn't break like that.

But, every time he looked at Nora, and at his Iris - his Iris with stars in her eyes and a bounce in her step at meeting their daughter - he couldn't help but think of the Iris Nora had left behind. Somewhere in the back of his mind, reminding him.

But he doesn't run there on purpose, he doesn't. But he's running as fast as he can and he is distracted and suddenly he is not where he was before. The sky is dark and there are highways tangled through the high rises, billboards showing the news and corporate advertisements with odd fashion and even odder technology.

He should run back, he thinks, before he is influenced. Back to Nora, back to his Iris. But this is also your Iris, Barry, his minds whispers to him.

A few moments, he thinks, he just wants to see her. Just a few moments to check that she was okay. Just…

And before he realizes it, he is standing in the loft. He doesn't know why he thought Iris would have stayed here still. But the second he steps in, he is sure she had. It hasn't changed, he notes, except for a few changed showpieces and some newer technology. The layout is the same. Barry zips up to their bedroom, but Iris isn't there. He is about to run to check the spare bedroom (Nora's, he assumes), when he hears a voice, and the sound of keys jangling right in front of the front door.

"-she is. I know you're working hard, Dad. Let Jenna help you with it, okay? … I know, Dad… I'll stay strong."

Her voice sounds tired, a little deeper, a little more croaky than usual. He feels the urge to run to her rocket through every nerve in his body, but he stays still. He hears her footsteps as she is climbing the stairs and he whooshes into the closet. Which, he belatedly realises, is a terrible idea, because she will come to change her clothes. But as he is about to change places, he sees her. Through the slits in the closet slats. He sees her walk into the room. She is older, he can see some wrinkles on her hands, and her face, at the corners of her eyes, around her mouth.

She looks, so, so, so tired. But is somehow still the most beautiful thing he could see. His gaze affixes itself to her and everything else seems to fade away into the background.

She sighs and shrugs off her coat and purse, leaving them on the perfectly made bed as she trudges to the bathroom.

Barry hears the shower running, and it would have been the perfect time for him to leave, but then he hears the soft sobs. Almost drowned out by the sound of the shower spray, he hears her crying. So he stays. Leaning against the backboard of the closet, he listens to all her quiet tears. All her sadness, all her pain. He takes it in, and finds his eyes and cheeks wet as well.

He sinks down to his knees, taking a deep breath before flashing out of her bedroom, ready to run right back to his own time, and give his Iris  the tightest hug he has ever, when he hears a dull thump. And a curse. He freezes in the living room, his ears sensitive to Iris moving around to press a cold cloth to her steadily forming bruise, getting dressed into her night clothes, her outfit from the day strewn haphazardly in the general direction of her laundry hamper. He can see it surprisingly clearly in his mind's eye.

Barry hears the tell-tale sounds of her nails clacking against the screen of her phone.

"Voicemail again -" she sighs. "Nora, look, I don't know when you're coming back to this time, or who in the world has your phone right now, but… we need to talk, you know that. I know you're angry at me for not telling you about you powers but -" a beep sounds. "Fuck."

Barry is so focused on her voice, he almost forgets to hide from Iris as she walks down the stairs. He zips to behind the curtains, leaving a whoosh and his blur of lightning, he prays she won't notice.

But she stills, at the base of the stairs. Carefully, tentatively, stepping into the space he had just occupied, her breaths quickening. "Barry?" Her voice whispers, unsure.

Barry hears her say his name and he can't hold himself back.

He shoots forward enveloping her in his arms, holding her so he won't have to feel her jagged pieces, pieces he'd broken when he had left her.

"You came home to me." she breathes. And he doesn't have it in him to break her heart. Not yet. He just holds her, quietly, breathing softly into her hair. And then she begins to cry. "I was… I felt the lightning… I knew…" Her tears soak around the emblem of his costume, and her shaking arms wind tighter around his middle.

"You're from the time Nora went back to, right?" She says, taking a quick breath. He feels her straighten, steel herself as she pulls away.

She cups his face with her hands, resting them on his neck. Her eyelashes are soaked, her eyes red and her cheeks sunken in. She stares at him, holds him like she won't be able to breathe if she lets go.

"Iris." He whispers her name and brings her close to lean his forehead on hers. It feels the same, but different. Her skin has folds it does not in the past, her face wash has changed, but she still feels like his Iris. "I'm so sorry, Iris."

She shakes her head, tears still leaking out of her closed eyes, "It's okay, it's okay." She breathes, "Just let me hold you for a moment. Just a moment."

Barry strokes her hair and wraps her in his arms again. Silent, unspoken, unkeepable promises seeping into her skin from his.

"It's been really hard, Barry. I'm sorry for not raising our daughter like I should've I just... wanted to keep her safe." She cries into his chest.

"It's okay, Iris."

"It's not okay, Barry. I kept a whole part of her life from her. And I kept a whole part of you from her. I'm so sorry. Please tell her how sorry I am okay, please tell her that I just want her to come home."

Barry runs his hands up and down her back , pressing his lips to the top of her head.

"The house is just so empty." Her voice breaks. And Barry can't take it, anymore.

"I promise, Iris. I'm going to do whatever it takes, whatever it takes to stop this from happening. I love you." Barry vows.

She nods against him. "I know you will." She leans on him to tiptoe and kiss his forehead. "I believe in you, Barry."

Iris swipes her hands against her cheeks and gives him a teary, still somehow shining, smile.

"You're always going to be my home, Iris. And I'll always be running back to you."

She strokes the side of his face, resting her fingers on his jaw. "Speaking of, you should probably get back to your time, weren't you in the middle of something?"

"I promise, Iris." He kisses her, softly, on her lips, before letting go of her.

He only looks back once more before running back in time, the image of Iris's tearful face ringing in his mind the whole way back.

…

Later, he would run into his time's Iris's open arms, and spin her around, and kiss her and just forget that everyone around them existed.

"Barry, what's wrong? Are you okay?" She would ask, as he held her. "Yeah, I just, I promise I'll always come home to you, Iris, no matter what." He would say, cupping her face with hands, vowing it straight to her eyes.

Her eyes would soften, she would brush a strand of his hair from his forehead, and caress the side of his face. And he would lean into it like it was the only thing keeping him sane.

"I know you will." And she would kiss his lips, lightly, "I believe in you, Barry."

///

Iris POV

Barry couldn't disappear. Not for Nora's whole life, not for -

He had said he would always come home to her. That the sound of her voice always brought him home. And she trusted Barry's "always", breathed into her hair, kissed into her skin, etched into her heart, more than any ridiculous article from the future.

"So what if the article says you never come back. It's said other things before, we've made it say other things before." She argues, firm.

Barry looks into her eyes and for a moment she can see he is as heartbroken about this as she is. She quietens and sits back down by her father's side, mostly because she doesn't trust her arms and legs to have enough strength to keep standing, to keep separated from Barry, to not meld him to her, anything to make sure he wouldn't leave. It would probably not even be in his control. But it doesn’t matter, she thinks. If she has to, she will stand by his side, and take whatever crisis in the chest herself if she has to.

And later that day, she lets her mind be occupied by questioning the reason Nora appears to hate her, because at least a part of her heart can handle that, when she's sure it can't handle the other news.

She wakes up in the middle of the night to Barry consoling her shaking body, holding her as she sobs into his chest.

"You said you'd always come home to me." she whispers, like an accusation. She feels like when the SpeedForce had come to take him right after they'd saved each other from Savitar. She just wanted them to have their happy ending.

Barry just holds her even tighter and lets his sobs blend in with hers.

This wasn't fair. He had been right. Why couldn't life let them have just one thing?

…

There is a moment, when he's fighting a new metahuman that his comm blinks off and back on again. It's a standard malfunction, happens sometimes when fighting, so the rest of the team aren't pressed by it, but something feels off to Iris. And she doesn't know what. When she tries to ask Nora, Nora mentions she was too far away to see what happened.

Iris shrugs it off until later when Barry whooshes into her arms, holding her like the world would come to an end if he didn't. He took her in his arms and spun her around and kissed her lips like he'd seen her for the first time in a long time, and Iris melted into him like there wasn't a whole room of people (one of which was their own daughter) staring at them.

"Barry, what's wrong?" she asks, gentle and soft, and so only he can hear.

"I just, I promise that I'll always come home to you, Iris, no matter what." He vows, and this time her heart swells and her eyes water because he says it with more conviction than he's said anything, ever.

"I know you will." She says, running her fingertips along the side of his face. "I believe in you, Barry."

And he smiles as she reaches up to kiss him.

…

It's even later, at night, when they're alone in their room, cuddled together in their bed, that he tells her.

"I accidentally went to the future."

"How far?" She asks, even though she can kind of already tell. She holds his hands steady between them, resting them atop his chest where she could feel his heart beat.

"The time Nora left from. 2049." he says, like a confession of a secret. He looks down at her with sad, sad, eyes, pleading with her for forgiveness.

"You met future me." She breathes. "Is this why you hinted at Nora to go back, today? Out of nowhere?"

He nods.

"Wow, was I that bad?" She manages.

Barry shakes his head, leaning down to kiss her hands. "Trust me, you fare better than I did when Savitar - well." He pauses, and Iris squishes closer to him, as if they hadn't already been pressed together. "You are going to be strong, and beautiful. Maybe a little clumsy. But you have so much hope." He smiles.

Iris smiles at his smile. "I'm sure I'll be okay, as long as I know you're en route back to me."

"Yeah. We can fix this, Iris."

"I believe in you."

"I believe in us."

She kisses him until she can't breathe and lays her ear on his chest, where his heart beat thrums in her ear until she falls asleep.

Before the Hood - 3/6

For @jade4813 from @backtothestart02

…

Chapter 3 -

The resounding sound of hammer against iron metal 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 the future arrangement 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’s 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 defiance to not fall in line with the rest of town as far as pursuing a line of work went. She had no trouble with it because she enjoyed his company and how helpful he was with the children and repair work that needed to be done. 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 that were sadly lacking. 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 to be 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 in that mentioning Caitlin and offering him some of her own bread was a straight sell. But he also appeared to like him 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 when he went to their spot. He ran there 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 with 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 Marlise put that condition on the table.

She didn’t add 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?” Marlise barked, cutting Iris deep. “It is by my husband’s will alone that you have been raised up, and 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,” Marlise 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,” Marlise 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.

Marlise 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 DeVoe’s 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 he’d waited for it to be delivered. While it was true that Iris’ bitterness towards him had waned, it was hardly excitement that had 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 DeVoe’s care.

Barry and Iris had not 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 lack of absence in her life was not due to his betrayal of her but to the DeVoe’s 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, mindblown, bursting at the seams, his 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.”

25 Days of Westallen Fanfiction: Day 22 - Before the Hood [3/6]

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing.

...

Synopsis: Before he donned the name Robin Hood, his name was Barry Allen, and all he wanted was to be with his love, Iris West.

...

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.”

 ...

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

Dearheart

Much like Helene, this friend was enchanted by books in a way that animated his every word; what resonated between Helene’s voice on the page before me and my friend’s in my memory, was the respect, need, and love for books that characterized their mutual passion.

books provide: a way of reaching out across time and space to friends and strangers, and to the absent presences that play such a large part in all our lives. I

The books arrived safely, the Stevenson is so fine it embarrasses my orange-crate bookshelves, I’m almost afraid to handle such soft vellum and heavy cream-colored pages. Being used to the dead-white paper and stiff cardboardy covers of American books, I never knew a book could be such a joy to the touch.

The day Hazlitt came he opened to “I hate to read new books,” and I hollered “Comrade!” to whoever owned it before me.

I require a book of love poems with spring coming on. No Keats or Shelley , send me poets who can make love without slobbering—Wyatt or Jonson or somebody, use your own judgment. Just a nice book preferably small enough to stick in a slacks pocket and take to Central Park.

Please write and tell me about London, I live for the day when I step off the boat-train and feel its dirty sidewalks under my feet. I want to walk up Berkeley Square and down Wimpole Street and stand in St. Paul’s where John Donne preached and sit on the step Elizabeth sat on when she refused to enter the Tower, and like that. A newspaper man I know, who was stationed in London during the war, says tourists go to England with preconceived notions, so they always find exactly what they go looking for. I told him I’d go looking for the England of English literature, and he said: “Then it’s there.”

The Newman arrived almost a week ago and I’m just beginning to recover. I keep it on the table with me all day, every now and then I stop typing and reach over and touch it. Not because it’s a first edition; I just never saw a book so beautiful. I feel vaguely guilty about owning it. All that gleaming leather and gold stamping and beautiful type belongs in the pine-panelled library of an English country home; it wants to be read by the fire in a gentleman’s leather easy chair—not on a secondhand studio couch in a one-room hovel in a broken-down brownstone front.

Thank you for the beautiful book. I’ve never owned a book before with pages edged all round in gold. Would you believe it arrived on my birthday? I wish you hadn’t been so over-courteous about putting the inscription on a card instead of on the flyleaf. It’s the bookseller coming out in you all, you were afraid you’d decrease its value. You would have increased it for the present owner. (And possibly for the future owner. I love inscriptions on flyleaves and notes in margins, I like the comradely sense of turning pages someone else turned, and reading passages some one long gone has called my attention to.)

Thank you again for the beautiful book, I shall try very hard not to get gin and ashes all over it, it’s really much too fine for the likes of me.

Write me about London—the tube, the Inns of Court, Mayfair, the corner where the Globe Theatre stood, anything, I’m not fussy. Write me about Knightsbridge, it sounds green and gracious in Eric Coates’ London.

P. S. Your mother is setting out bravely this morning to look at an apartment for you on 8th Avenue in the 50’s because you told her to look in the theatre district. Maxine you know perfectly well your mother is not equipped to look at ANYTHING on 8th Avenue.

You may add Walton’s Lives to the list of books you aren’t sending me. It’s against my principles to buy a book I haven’t read, it’s like buying a dress you haven’t tried on, but you can’t even get Walton’s Lives in a library over here.

You can look at it. They have it down at the 42nd street branch. But not to take home! the lady said to me, shocked. eat it here, just sit right down in room 315 and read the whole book without a cup of coffee, a cigarette or air.

Doesn’t matter, Q quoted enough of it so I know I’ll like it. anything he liked i’ll like except if it’s fiction. i never can get interested in things that didn’t happen to people who never lived.

Boy, I’d like to have run barefoot through THEIR library before they sold it.

Fascinating book to read, did you know John Donne eloped with the boss’s highborn daughter and landed in the Tower for it and starved and starved and THEN got religion. my word.

You want to be the murderer or the corpse?

You’ll be fascinated to learn (from me that hates novels) that I finally got round to Jane Austen and went out of my mind over Pride & Prejudice which I can’t bring myself to take back to the library till you find me a copy of my own.

I houseclean my books every spring and throw out those I’m never going to read again like I throw out clothes I’m never going to wear again. It shocks everybody. My friends are peculiar about books. They read all the best sellers, they get through them as fast as possible, I think they skip a lot. And they NEVER read anything a second time so they don’t remember a word of it a year later. But they are profoundly shocked to see me drop a book in the wastebasket or give it away. The way they look at it, you buy a book, you read it, you put it on the shelf, you never open it again for the rest of your life but YOU DON’T THROW IT OUT! NOT IF IT HAS A HARD COVER ON IT! Why not? I personally can’t think of anything less sacrosanct than a bad book or even a mediocre book.

The Book-Lovers’ Anthology stepped out of its wrappings, all gold-embossed leather and gold-tipped pages, easily the most beautiful book I own including the Newman first edition. It looks too new and pristine ever to have been read by anyone else, but it has been: it keeps falling open at the most delightful places as the ghost of its former owner points me to things I’ve never read before. Like Tristram Shandy’s description of his father’s remarkable library which “contained every book and treatise which had ever been wrote upon the subject of great noses.” (Frank! Go find me Tristram Shandy! )

THOU VARLET? Don’t remember which restoration playwright called everybody a Varlet, I always wanted to use it in a sentence.

I shall be obliged if you will send Nora and the girls to church every Sunday for the next month to pray for the continued health and strength of the messrs. gilliam, reese, snider, campanella, robinson, hodges, furillo, podres, newcombe and labine, collectively known as The Brooklyn Dodgers. If they lose this World Series I shall Do Myself In and then where will you be?

Have you got De Tocqueville’s Journey to America? Somebody borrowed mine and never gave it back. Why is it that people who wouldn’t dream of stealing anything else think it’s perfectly all right to steal books?

I write you from under the bed where that catullus drove me. i mean it PASSETH understanding.

Up till now, the only Richard Burton I ever heard of is a handsome young actor I’ve seen in a couple of British movies and I wish I’d kept it that way. This one got knighted for turning Catullus—caTULLus—into Victorian hearts-and-flowers.

And poor little Mr. smithers must have been afraid his mother was going to read it, he like to KILL himself cleaning it all up.

I go through life watching the english language being raped before my face. like miniver cheevy, I was born too late. and like miniver cheevy I cough and call it fate and go on drinking.

I am starting with a script about New York under seven years of British Occupation and i MARVEL at how i rise above it to address you in friendly and forgiving fashion, your behavior over here from 1776 to 1783 was simply FILTHY.

When, as a little boy, William Blake saw the prophet Ezekiel under a tree amid a summer field, he was soundly trounced by his mother.

I will read the three standard passages from Sermon XV aloud,” you have to read Donne aloud, it’s like a Bach fugue.

i am going to bed. i will have hideous nightmares involving huge monsters in academic robes carrying long bloody butcher knives labelled Excerpt, Selection, Passage and Abridged.

Thought of you last night, my editor from Harper’s was here for dinner, we were going over this story-of-my-life and we came to the story of how I dramatized Landor’s “Aesop and Rhodope” for the “Hallmark Hall of Fame.” Did I ever tell you that one? Sarah Churchill starred as Landor’s dewy-eyed Rhodope. The show was aired on a Sunday afternoon. Two hours before it went on the air, I opened the New York Times Sunday book review section and there on page 3 was a review of a book called A House Is Not a Home by Polly Adler, all about whorehouses, and under the title was the photo of a sculptured head of a Greek girl with a caption reading: “Rhodope, the most famous prostitute in Greece.” Landor had neglected to mention this. Any scholar would have known Landor’s Rhodope was the Rhodopis who took Sappho’s brother for every dime he had but I’m not a scholar, I memorized Greek endings one stoic winter but they didn’t stay with me.

Wasn’t anything else that intrigued me much, it’s just stories, I don’t like stories. Now if Geoffrey had kept a diary and told me what it was like to be a little clerk in the palace of richard III—THAT I’d learn Olde English for. I just threw out a book somebody gave me, it was some slob’s version of what it was like to live in the time of Oliver Cromwell—only the slob didn’t live in the time of Oliver Cromwell so how the hell does he know what it was like? Anybody wants to know what it was like to live in the time of Oliver Cromwell can flop on the sofa with Milton on his pro side and Walton on his con, and they’ll not only tell him what it was like, they’ll take him there.

“The reader will not credit that such things could be,” Walton says somewhere or other, “but I was there and I saw it.”

that’s for me, I’m a great lover of I-was-there books.

We had a very pleasant summer with more than the usual number of tourists, including hordes of young people making the pilgrimage to Carnaby Street. We watch it all from a safe distance, though I must say I rather like the Beatles. If the fans just wouldn’t scream so.

I introduced a young friend of mine to Pride & Prejudice one rainy Sunday and she has gone out of her mind for Jane Austen.

I hope you and Brian have a ball in London. He said to me on the phone: “Would you go with us if you had the fare?” and I nearly wept.

But I don’t know, maybe it’s just as well I never got there. I dreamed about it for so many years. I used to go to English movies just to look at the streets. I remember years ago a guy I knew told me that people going to England find exactly what they go looking for. I said I’d go looking for the England of English literature, and he nodded and said: “It’s there.”

Maybe it is, and maybe it isn’t. Looking around the rug one thing’s for sure: it’s here.

We all lead busy lives—perhaps it’s better so.

If you happen to pass by 84, Charing Cross Road, kiss it for me. I owe it so much.