Author's Note: I actually low-key upset myself while writing this? Damn. Anyways, based off of this tumblr prompt from otpdisaster: Person B knowing they're undoubtedly about to die within the next few seconds, likely from the gaping wound they're bleeding out from. Instead of calling for help, they phone Person A and carry on a casual conversation as if nothing is wrong, making sure to mention how much they love them before their time runs out. So I guess you can't blame me entirely. Hope you enjoy despite the sad nature.

Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.

Part of Barry knew that he should have dialed Caitlin's number, that he shouldn't have given up so easily. Shouldn't have resigned himself to this fate without even trying to reach out for help.

Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.

The other part of him knew it was useless at this point, that even his accelerated healing couldn't get him through this. There was far too much blood on the ground, still leaving him. It should have hurt. All he felt was a dizzying numbness.

Pick up. Pick up. Pick -

The phone clicked.

"Hey, Bar. I thought you were working late tonight. Everything alright?"

Everything was not alright. He almost wanted to laugh. But it wasn't funny. Not to mention, he didn't think he could spare the energy. He had barely managed to dial her number.

"Everything's fine. I just - I wanted to talk to you for a minute."

Needed to talk to her for a minute. He wouldn't get another chance. She didn't know that. But surely she could sense something off in his voice, in his tone. He could hear the way hers changed, went from happy to worry.

"Barry - is something going on? Are you sure everything's alright?"

He could envision the way she was probably frowning, eyebrows creased the way they always did when she was worried, when she knew that something wasn't right. She was smart, brilliant.

He wished she would just go along with it.

"Hey, listen - I just wanted to tell you I love you. You know that, right?"

His voice was soft. Not from sentimentality. At this point, it was so much effort just to make words flow past his lips. The hand holding the cellphone was shaking, and it was a miracle he hadn't dropped it.

"Of course I do. But Bar - you're scaring me. What's going on? Where are you?"

"Everything's fine, alright? Everything - everything's going to be fine."

Liar. He was a liar. She would kill him, he thought idly, if he hadn't already been dying.

"I'm coming to get you," she announced firmly. "Are you still at work?"

He thought he could hear her car keys jingling in the background. Every word sounded like it was echoing from underwater now, far away. So very far away.

"I love you, Iris. I love you so much. I love you."

The phone finally fell from his grasp, dropping onto the ground next to him with a dull thud that didn't register with him. She said more after that. She called his name as her voice cracked, as something inside her screamed that something was wrong, so wrong, so very wrong. The cries fell on deaf ears. He stared up at the stars in the sky until his vision followed suit with his hearing, eyes staring up at the beautiful vastness but unseeing.

One final breath escaped past his lips.

It sounded strangely like a name.

No one was there to hear it.

It was an hour before the body was found. Upon not finding the speedster at the precinct, Iris had gone immediately to STAR Labs. If something had happened - if he was in his Flash suit, Caitlin and Cisco could find him. She called them on the way there.

Part of her seemed to recognize that it was too late. Felt it in her heart, in the sudden empty feeling that had accompanied the also sudden end of the phone call.

The other part of her refused to give up on her stubborn hope. He was Barry, damn it. He was always okay. He was always okay.

The monitors at STAR said differently. The earsplitting screech sent her and Caitlin and Cisco running, running to look at his vitals display. There wasn't much to see except the flat line of his heart rate, the zeroes that represented his blood pressure, his oxygen level.

Cisco stayed behind to push the defibrillator over and over and over again, long past when he should have stopped trying. Iris refused to let Caitlin drive to the location indicated on the tracker alone.

When they got there, she almost wished she had.

She watched through a veil of tears as Caitlin tried desperately to revive him, as he hands became stained red and she eventually resorted to pounding and pounding and pounding on his chest, screaming that he had better get up. He'd better get up.

Get up, she urged silently on her own, her legs weak. Get up, get up, get up.

She didn't quite know when she ended up on her knees beside him, shaking him, begging him to look at her, to talk to her.

Later, she wouldn't remember who eventually dragged her away and into a vehicle that was not the one she had come in.

She muttered something over and over again.

It sounded like a name.

It was too quiet for anyone else to hear.

The funeral was on a Saturday, a small service. More people would have gone, Iris thought, had they known the man they were mourning was also Central City's hero. Eventually, someone would catch on to the absence of the red streak constantly zooming around.

Today she couldn't care less as she stood above a casket lowered into the ground, stared down into the hole, held a beautiful red rose with yellowing leaves.

Off to the side, allowing her space, she was aware of the presence of her father and her brother, of Caitlin and Cisco. She dropped the rose, watched it fall with grace, stayed there as the wind ruffled her hair and tried to dry the tears on her cheeks.

She whispered something as it blew past her.

"I love you too, Barry Allen."

The wind carried the words away.