A/N: First Flash fanfic! I wanted to write my own tag/AU to 2x06: Enter Zoom, so here it is! Here's to hoping 2x07 provides the Westallen I crave and tried to make up for with this oneshot, which will be AU within the next few hours, lol. Apologies for mistakes.

Broken

In the end, Barry is glad Iris isn't there when he wakes up. He understands why she wasn't there the first time. Nine months is a long time to cling to threads of hope, and Joe and Iris West have lives. Jobs. He couldn't expect them to drop everything to be by his bedside twenty-four/seven. That was ridiculous. Impractical.

And to him, he hadn't even been gone longer than a few minutes, let alone a good portion of the year.

He woke to two strangers that time, but every time he wakes up in S.T.A.R. labs thereafter, they feel a little less like strangers, less like reluctant colleagues, and far more like friends. Iris isn't there then because he won't allow her to be.

He still thinks of her every time, regardless of his promise to Joe, regardless of their desire to keep Iris safe.

Of course he thinks of her now. Cisco and Caitlin are standing there, watching over him for what must be the millionth time since the lightning strike, their tones soft and expressions guarded and hopeful, and despite their comforting presence, Iris is his first thought. Barry can't help but wonder where she is. Now that she has become an invaluable part of his team, now that she has forgiven him for the secrets and for Eddie and for everything else, now that they're best friends again, he…wishes she were there.

But then Cisco lays his hand on his leg, and he can't feel it.

He can't fucking feel it. He can't feel his legs, and whatever objectivity he had to view the situation with—it disappears, and all that is left is for him to break down.

Thank God she's not here.

Because it all comes rushing back. He remembers the pain of getting stabbed (twice), the fire in his chest, the sound of his spine breaking, the whoosh of air around him as Zoom dragged him around the city like some sort of rag doll. He remembers it in horrifying flashes of noise and blurs of color, and fragments of his—its—demonic voice echo in his mind, a meaningless but terrifying string of words, rumbling with mockery.

Barry's lungs constrict, and it's like he's trying to draw a thick milkshake up too thin a straw. He can't breathe. He can't breathe, and he can't feel his legs. Caitlin rushes around the room, and Cisco tries to hold him back as he sits up and stares, stares at the useless limbs attached to his body. They're nothing but pieces of meat now. He can vaguely hear the machines he's attached to going wild, and he's aware Caitlin is yelling at him, but he can't respond.

Zoom had been toying with him, and he'd meant to kill him. He nearly had. No, that monster took his legs instead. Not only that but he'd…

Iris and Joe. They had…they had…

Despite the ripping pain in his side, he turns and dry heaves over the side of the bed. Cisco helps him right himself, and he takes in deep gulps of air.

Iris and Joe. He has to think of them. He has to be strong for them. Dear God, he probably scared them. He probably scared the shit out of them. He underestimated Zoom, and now…

Barry pulls himself together, piece-by-piece. He grounds himself on the knowledge that Joe and Iris—God, Iris—saw him fail, that they'll need him now, if only to prove that he will try not to let this beat him entirely, that he's okay.

He is okay. He will be. He has to be.

Barry takes a few deep breaths and begins categorizing what he knows, what he needs to know, and what he can do to find the answers to his questions into some semblance of order. It's a fail-safe method, something he's used time and time again to sort and prioritize his thoughts. He's been using it since his dad had been taken away, as a sort of defense mechanism to hide from the reality of the horrors he's witnessed. Objective information, raw data, science…it's emotionless. It's just there, and it's far simpler to work with than the heavy stuff. Perhaps his efficiency at this sort of thing was what made him a natural CSI.

"Barry? Barry!"

It occurs to Barry that Cisco has been calling his name for minutes on end. He blinks away some lingering tears clinging to his eyelashes. "I'm alright. I'm good," he croaks once he finds his voice again.

"Yeah, you better be," Cisco jokes weakly. "I don't think my heart could take something like that again. No more panic attacks, okay? Please?"

"Okay. No panic attacks. And no legs. Alright. I can handle this. I can do this." Barry doesn't want to think about what it means for the Flash if he can't run—that hadn't quite factored into his attempt to calm himself down—so he distracts himself, looking between the two of his friends. Caitlin fusses with something nearby, trying to hide her trembling shoulders. "You said…"

If you didn't heal so quickly, I'd be very worried.

He dissects the words carefully, his mind processing every last syllable as though the entire sentence was a new piece of evidence in one of his more frustrating cases. "I'm still healing quickly."

Cisco and Caitlin exchange a wary glance, but Barry's too preoccupied with this glorious observation to care. Don't they see what it means? "If I'm still healing quickly," Barry says, beginning to smile, "that means…I still have my speed. I still have my powers."

Cisco's face lights up and grips Barry's bruised shoulder. "You were stabbed with the speed-retardant too, dude!" he exclaims, snapping his fingers. With a victorious bark of laughter, he starts pacing, gesticulating as he fits the pieces together. "It could be preventing your nervous system from catching up to the physical damage done to your spinal cord! We'd need to take some samples to test, and that jerkwad will need to give up his super secret serum in order for us to be sure, but…"

High with giddiness, Barry exhales a breathy laugh. "There's hope."

The two, excitable young men turn to face Caitlin, whose fingers have frozen over her keyboard. Her expression is blank as she stares at the screen, which can only be displaying Barry's medical chart.

"Barry…" Caitlin attempts. "I'm not…entirely sure…The neural system is so complex—it's amazing you're awake after everything that happened—and in cases like this—"

Realism is one sure-fire way to kill Barry's giddy high. If Caitlin, the most levelheaded and intelligent realist Barry knows, has reservations… well, regardless, he doesn't want to have to deal with the worst-case scenario yet. Not until he has all the information he needs. He swallows and closes his eyes. "H—how bad is it? How bad is it really?"

They know he's not talking about his injuries anymore. "It's…all over the news," Caitlin says. "It's been three days, and they're still running the story. Still speculating. Most people think…"

Barry's stomach churns with guilt, but he forces himself to attempt a smile. "Well, that's humiliating."

"That's…something we'll have to deal with later. You're our priority right now. Joe's trying to do some damage control out there. He was here this morning, before work." Caitlin's eyes soften with sincerity. "He will be so glad to hear you're awake. Your father, too."

"My dad?"

"He's en route. He was visiting an old friend in Gotham, so it's taken a few days for him to travel back west. Last time we talked to him, he said he'd be here this evening."

"And—and Iris?"

"Oh, shit," Cisco curses. Barry's heart plummets to the floor, and he's ready to leap out of bed, paralysis be damned. "She's going to kill me!"

Barry pauses, eyebrows furrowing. "What? Cisco, I swear to God! I thought she was hurt! That Zoom had—"

"No, no, no. We just convinced her to take a twenty-minute nap…three hours ago."

Barry's torn between concern and fond amusement, and he relaxes. It takes more effort than usual to raise his hand and rub his eyes. Caitlin is there to slap his hand away in an instant. "Is she okay?" he asks.

"She wouldn't leave your side, man!" Cisco defends, and a strange mixture of warmth and gut-gripping guilt seizes Barry. "It took every last ounce of charm to convince her to sleep at least a little, and of course you had to wake up the moment we manage it. When she realizes we let her sleep more than twenty minutes and that you woke up when she was asleep…"

"She's going to kill you."

"She's going to kill me," Cisco agrees miserably. "Heyyyy, Caitlin, do you want to wake her up and tell her Barry's up?"

"Not a chance. You were the one making promises to her. Barry, stop fidgeting. That neck brace is there for a reason."

"But you were the one who told me letting her sleep longer would be for the best! If I'm going down, I'm taking you with me, Snow!"

"I'd like to see you try, Cisco."

The banter is comforting. Familiar. Barry smiles, and it's so easy to forget the real reason why they are in this predicament. "Want me to fake sleep for you, Cisco?" he suggests. "So when Iris comes in, she doesn't bite your head off?"

"You mean bite your head off?"

The three scientists swivel—or attempt to, in Barry's case—toward the glass door, where stands Iris. A S.T.A.R. labs fleece blanket is draped over her shoulders, and even though her hair is tangled and she's obviously not had a shower or a good night's sleep for awhile, Barry thinks she's never looked more adorable.

But then he really looks at her.

"Iris…" he whispers. "I…I'm alright."

Ignoring Cisco and Caitlin, she stares at him, eyes blazing with anger and hurt and pain, and without warning, she rushes in like a tornado. Her fists pummel into his ribs and his shoulder as she half-tackles-half-embraces him, and when he releases an oomph of pain, she slingshots back. "Oh, shit. I'm sorry! Oh, God, that was—"

"It's okay," Barry reassures. He must really suck at reassuring her—or maybe he just looks like crap—because despite her best efforts, tears begin to well in her eyes. "It's okay. It'll be okay."

"Screw you, Barry Allen. Screw you. You scared the shit out of us. You—"

Barry hardly notices Cisco and Caitlin slowly backing from the room. "Hey," he says softly. Iris is looking everywhere but at him, at his broken body. "Hey. Come here."

Soft chocolate eyes land on him, and she purses her lips as she slowly sits on the edge of his bed. "You look awful, Bar."

"But I'm fine. I'm—"

"No. Don't you dare. Don't you fucking d—" She can't get the word out, and she chokes on a sob, tucking her head down into his side.

He pulls her as close as he can. It's as natural as breathing. When they were growing up, there were nights Joe didn't have the chance to call to say he was staying late at the precinct. There were nights when he did call, and they still couldn't be sure he was coming home at all. Those nights were always the hardest, but at least they had each other.

"It's okay," Barry says, almost mechanically. Calmly. "It's okay, I'm here."

"But you weren't, Bar!" Iris exclaims. "You weren't. For three days, my best friend was on the cusp of dying. You nearly died, Barry! It's like the lightning hit you all over again, but…your heart wasn't stopping this time. No, this time…"

"Hey," Barry says. "Iris, please. Look at me." Iris' breath is warm on his skin, and her tears leave a blazing trail when she lifts her head. Trailing a thumb across her tear-stained cheekbone, he takes one of her hands and holds it in place over his heart. "I'm okay."

A soft, teary smile works its way onto her face. "It feels really fast."

Remembering the last time she said that, he can't help but smile in return. "Wouldn't be me if it wasn't."

Her fingers weave between his, and they sit in silence for some time before Iris says, "Zoom took you to Picture News."

"I remember."

She looks surprised he does. "I'm so sorry, Barry. I'm so sorry."

"Why are you apologizing? You don't have to apologize for that. I should be the one who's sorry."

Because I failed. And everyone bore witness.

"No, don't say that. You—I saw…I can't see you like that again, Barry, don't you understand?"

He does. This is why he needs her to know he's okay. This is why he needs to believe he'll be okay, but he can't deny the truth. "I wish I could say I didn't have it coming for me, Iris. I underestimated him." Of course she decides to withdraw her hand from his and squeeze his knee instead, where he can't appreciate the comfort she's offering him. Lump growing in his throat, he adds, "And I'll have to live with the consequences."

Her expression is tortured. "We underestimated Zoom. This is my fault."

"What?" He tries to shake his head and fails. "Iris, no, no. It's hardly your fault. What…?"

"If I hadn't encouraged you to let Linda help you with that trap…"

"I would have done something stupid anyway," Barry interrupts firmly, and he succeeds in making Iris smile weakly. "I agreed with the plan. I made that choice. And you know what? Zoom was after me already. He…I think he's been waiting for an excuse to come here himself. To make an example of me. His goons have all failed, so it was only a matter of time. He's been toying with us all along."

She regards him solemnly, and he's not sure if she believes him or not until her expression shifts. Joe calls it her spitfire face, the face she uses when she's about to set her mind to something…or when she's about to speak her mind, regardless of the cost. It's badass and stubborn and proud and passionate, and in most cases, it's frustrating as hell for Barry and Joe. She brushes away the last of her tears and leans forward. "We are going to catch that bastard."

She still believes in me. She still thinks…Barry can't look her in the eye, and she jumps up. "Now that we have seen him, now that the world's seen him—"

He can't keep it from her. He needs to nip this in the bud now. "Iris."

"—we can plan. We can come together as a city to—"

"Iris."

"And once you're on your feet again—"

"Iris."

Something in his tone catches her attention, and Barry desperately tries to work his mouth into the right words. Silence reigns for an eternity, and her spitfire face fades away into a concerned frown. "Bar?"

Vision blurry and eyes burning, Barry says, "Iris, I…"

There's no judgment in her eyes when she asks, "Are you afraid?"

"Of course I am." He barks a bitter laugh, and it spills from him like toxic waste. Objectivity and optimism are lost amongst the flood…and so is he. "Funny that the two men I'm afraid of are the ones with my powers. Powers I can't use anymore because of Zoom. Irony at it's finest, isn't it?"

Iris looks about ready to interject with something inspiring or something argumentative, but she catches herself and stares, scanning him up and down. "'Powers you can't…'" Iris repeats slowly. "I don't understand. You're healing fast. Your heartbeat…"

"But my…legs. I can't…" He pats them ineffectually and finally looks up, watching as understanding dawns, her confusion replaced by horror and sympathy.

He can't remember feeling more pitiful in his entire life. Iris has seen him beaten down by bullies, she's seen him disrespected by his coworkers at the precinct, and she's seen him teased countless times about his family and its history, but never has she seen him truly fail to pick himself up, no matter the trials that came his way.

But this isn't something someone can bounce back from that quickly. This isn't something he can find himself ever getting over just like that.

"What am I without running, Iris?" he asks. "What is the Flash without his legs?"

Now that he's allowed himself to think about it, he wants to ask how he can defend a city without his legs, how he can protect himself and the people he cares about from the new threat Zoom presents without his speed, but Iris takes both of his hands in hers and gives him a look stern enough to make an entire classroom of college students cringe.

"Listen here, Barry Allen. Fuck Zoom. You're my best friend. You're a friend to countless others. You're a son to a great man and a surrogate son to another. And goddammit, you are a hero. Always have been. Even before the particle accelerator exploded, you were a hero. We're going to get through this, okay? Together. Step by step."

She doesn't realize it, but it's impossible for Barry to feel anything but love for Iris right now. She has such a big heart, and ever since he became the Flash, she has had a part in making the city a better place, first by spreading hope and then by helping him from S.T.A.R. labs. Heroism is an addiction, a selfless and beautiful addiction, and when you have a taste, it's hard to let go. When you know it's a good cause, it's downright impossible, but she just dropped a fight—a cause—she wanted to fight in light of his personal problems, problems that didn't impact anyone but himself.

It's amazing how easy it is to push his doubt away, if only for the time being. Looking up into her earnest and passionate eyes, he can almost believe that everything will be okay. Despite what he wants everyone to believe, and despite what he tells himself, he isn't okay—not yet—but maybe, one day, he will be. He absorbs her energy, her belief, and even still, he can't find the right way to express just how much he owes her for being there now, for promising to be with him through this.

So he takes the easy way out. "Please tell me that pun was unintentional," he jokes.

Brow furrowing momentarily, Iris sits back. "Wha—Oh." She covers her mouth, but it's clear she's smiling. "Oh, God, Barry, I'm—"

"Because if that was intentional…too soon. Way, way too soon."

Iris begins to laugh, and she whacks his shoulder. "You're awful!" Barry just laughs. "This isn't supposed to be funny!"

Their laughter is contagious, and before they know it, they're cracking up, feeding off the other's hysterics and unable to stop. By the time they do, Caitlin and Cisco have hovered back into the room—most likely because they were concerned about his oxygen level—and the threat of Zoom and Barry's paralysis are the very last things on their minds.

The moment Caitlin butts in to do a few tests and Cisco and Iris begin bickering about keeping certain promises, exhaustion hits Barry hard, and his eyelids suddenly feel like they're holding deadweights.

"You get some rest, Barry," Caitlin says. "You're still healing."

"You'll actually wake me when Joe or my dad gets here?" Barry mumbles, lips twitching into a smile.

"No."

Barry snorts. "Iris, you're on my side here, right?"

"We'll see, Bar. We'll see. You just rest up."

Barry sighs, and even though he's pretty sure there's a thank you, Iris on his lips before he passes out, he's not so sure he said them aloud. Perhaps the best thing about Iris is that sometimes, he doesn't have say anything.

She always knows.