"Ah, damn."

It had been far too long since Iris had heard that long-suffering tone. Balancing one Jitters coffee cup on top of another, she paused outside the half-closed lab door. She could only imagine that Barry, as clumsy as he was, had spilled something on one of his nice shirts again, and the thought of his resigned and exasperated expression as he surveyed the mess he made was enough to send her into a fit of giggles.

According to Eddie, she was being incredibly giggly and giddy lately, and he took the opportunity to mention it every time they saw each other. He had mentioned it mere moment ago, in fact, when she had stopped by to say hello to her dad and drop off both his and Eddie's midafternoon dose of caffeine.

Iris wasn't blind—she knew Eddie felt threatened by Barry now he was awake—but she couldn't find it in herself to cater to his insecurities right now, not after she already assured him multiple times he had nothing to worry about because…well, because Barry was her best friend.

And up until a week ago, she had started to lose hope she'd ever see her best friend's smile again. She had thought she was never going to get another opportunity to tease him or make him laugh or properly introduce him to Eddie. She had thought the all-nighters and the movie marathons and the baking contests were going to be nothing more than memories. It was only very recently that she wondered if maybe…he wasn't going to wake up, that maybe—maybe he was lost to her forever.

But then her Bear woke up, and her world, which had been knocked off its axis after the particle accelerator explosion, righted itself like a broken bone snapping back into place. It was disorienting, but it was right again.

So honestly, was it so hard to believe she was still in a little shock? Was it so hard to accept she was still reeling with gratitude and happiness that Barry survived, despite all odds? And was it so difficult for Eddie to realize she wanted to make up for lost time?

Well, no matter what Eddie thought, a little giddiness was perfectly acceptable in light of the situation, thank you very much.

Chest quaking with repressed laughter, Iris propped open the heavy door with her foot, readjusted her precious cargo, and peered into the lab. Sure enough, Barry was standing in the middle of his lab space. He stared dejectedly down at his torso, where a large brown stain, whose origin Iris did not want to know, blossomed. At his feet sat a pile of shattered glass. This, too, he stared at, pouting as though he couldn't believe the glass—and whatever it was it originally contained—could have possibly betrayed him like this.

Of course, having her own mental image confirmed in the flesh, paired with the dorky goggles he had pushed up onto his forehead, only amused Iris further. Chuckling, she finally nudged the door open further. "Didn't you learn anything in high school Chem, Barry?" she sing-song'd as she waltzed into the lab.

"Iris!" Barry yelped, jumping and whirling toward her. She laughed, wishing she'd had the chance to pull out her phone to record his reaction. After discovering how easy it was to startle him, she had sworn she was going to show a compilation video of all the times she and his friends scared him the crap out of him at his wedding. So far she had plenty of material, but it was always nice to have options. "You know I hate it when you do that!"

"And you know I love to do it despite that. Honestly, though, Barry, is that chemistry degree wasted on you? Surely you know by now it's not a good idea to play with chemicals without proper protective equipment?"

"Har-har," Barry grumbled, recognizing the mimicry of their old science teacher, who spoke like Porky Pig and had never ceased to remind Barry to use gloves. "One would think."

"Aw, poor Barry. Well, I have something that'll make you feel better!"

She brandished the Jitters cup, and immediately, his face lit up. With his wild grin and the goggles propped on his forehead, making his hair stick up in every direction, he looked every bit a 'mad scientist.' "Tar-spresso?"

"Three shots, five pumps of mocha chocolate, and one pump of raspberry. Just the way you like it."

"Yassss!"

Barry looked about ready to bound forward, but Iris was far too aware of the gunk on his shirt to let it anywhere near her. Besides… "Barry, you do remember why they're still telling 'The Legend of Klutzo' at Central City High, don't you?"

Barry had gotten more chemical burns, started more fires, and broken more lab supplies than any other student in the history of Central City High, mostly because he experimented when he wasn't supposed to. If he wasn't experimenting, his accidents were due to distractions, and a distracted Barry was a klutzy Barry.

Which was most likely the cause of his current predicament. He looked down at his shirt and sighed. "I probably shouldn't be running around with this stuff on my shirt, huh?"

"That would be wise, yes."

Pulling off his goggles and setting them aside, Barry carefully stepped over the mess of glass on the floor and made his way to his decrepit locker, where he made quick work of unbuttoning his shirt. Almost unconsciously, Iris set aside the coffee and found a dustpan on one of his nearby shelves. She crouched to scoop up all the glass.

"I'll have you know, Iris," Barry was saying, "this compound is perfectly harmless. Well, harmless to me." His tone grew regretful. "Man, I really liked this shirt. I don't even think the all-powerful OxiClean will be capable of saving—"

Iris looked up from her task to tease him for being so dramatic, only to find his bare back exposed to her. Now, she'd seen Barry shirtless countless of times—growing up in the same household, it was hard not to—but never…never…

A pale pink scar, originating at the base of his spine and disappearing into the waistband of his pants, curved around his side before exploding into a flowery burst of lightning across his freckle-sprinkled shoulder blades. It didn't look painful—and in some strange way, it was beautiful—but all Iris could feel when she looked at it was a mind-numbing horror. All she could see was the lightning, the very thing that nearly took her best friend away from her…

Striking.

"Oh, Bear," Iris whispered. "Your back."

Barry half-turned toward Iris, a confused expression on his face, and he twisted further in an attempt to see what she was talking about. "Oh! Isn't it neat?" His eyes were alight with an excitement and passion that only possessed him whenever he was about to go on a fast-paced spiel about science or the latest and greatest sci-fi movie. "It's a Lichtenberg figure! Normally, they disappear soon after someone's struck by lightning—"

Struck by lightning. Iris was suddenly back in the hospital the night of the explosion, the ER doctors yelling the phrase over and over, rushing around his prone form with paddles, his body jerking, the cardiac monitor flat-lining, tears stinging her face…strong arms holding her back, dragging her from the room…

No, no, you can't be here, they had said.

But I'm family, she'd tried to tell them.

They hadn't listened.

"—like, in a matter of twenty-four hours—but for some reason, mine's here to stay. Weird, because some scientists theorize these 'scars' are the result of burst capillaries—damaged red blood cells or whatever—leaking into subcutaneous fat after the current passes through—"

He was still rambling, completely unaware she was struggling to keep a lump from forming in her throat. It didn't make any sense, that this single mark could evoke such a reaction from her, but it was as though a dam had burst. All the exhaustion, stress, and fear she had tried to ignore over the last nine months came rushing back to her, and it crashed against her resolve in a single, shattering blow. The happiness and giddy relief she had been experiencing in the wake of his miraculous recovery was hardly superficial, but it wasn't enough to keep her afloat now.

She had nearly lost him. She had nearly lost this beautiful and vibrant light in her life.

It had never felt so real as it did now.

"—the body usually makes up for the damage, and the mark disappears, but I guess I'm a special flower since mine's still there and shows no sign of fading anytime soo—" His pale hazel eyes latched onto her. "…Iris?" he asked uncertainly. "Are you—what's wrong?"

Iris wiped her cheeks and drew her knees up to her chin, shaking her head. Before she knew it, his arms were wrapped around her, and she turned into his torso, seeking the warmth and heartbeat she so desperately needed to feel.

Barry seemed to know exactly what she needed. He remained silent and held her close as she cried and hugged him with everything she was worth, trying to remind herself that though the lightning might have marked him, it hadn't taken him. He was there. He was awake, and he was real.

The stunningly fast flutter of his heart didn't calm her so much as the slow rise and fall of his chest did, and she breathed with him. She couldn't be sure how much time passed, but eventually, she grew embarrassed and drew away, wiping at her mascara-stained cheeks with unsteady fingers. Barry backed off a bit, giving her space, and the consideration he gave her nearly set her off again.

"I'm sorry, Barry. I'm so sorry."

"Hey, it's okay," he said softly. "Are you—?"

"I didn't…I just…haven't cried since the night it happened." When she fell silent, Barry waited, not pushing or prodding her into speaking before she was ready, and thanks to his patience, she was able to collect her thoughts. "I was trying…I don't know what I was trying to do. I was trying to be strong, I suppose—for you, for Dad—and to show everyone else who came to tell me how sorry they were that they were wrong.

"I couldn't stand it. I couldn't stand the condolences and the apologies. It was as though they thought you were already gone, and I didn't want to believe it, Barry. I fought to convince myself otherwise. But it's true, isn't it? We nearly lost you. And I—I saw you die."

She had said the same thing at Jitters the day he woke up, but the shock of seeing him awake, the joy of presenting him to her father, and the hint of smugness she felt seeing all of his coworkers at the precinct welcoming him back had only delayed the inevitable realization of its reality.

"When they took you to S.T.A.R. labs, I visited you as often as I could. I told you all my stories, all my jokes. I was there whenever something happened at school or at work, no matter how fucking stupid, and I thought, I need to tell Barry. But you…you weren't there. Not really."

"Iris…"

"Shhh. Stop." He was about to apologize, and she couldn't hear that right now. "You're my best friend, and I love you—I love you so much, Barry—and when I saw that scar, it reminded me of everything that I couldn't say, everything I didn't have the courage to face after you were struck by that lightning. I—I couldn't bear the thought…"

A strange expression of guilt, compassion, and sympathy wracked Barry's face, and he pulled her into a hug. "I…I had no idea, Iris. I—I mean, I assumed some things, and I left S.T.A.R. labs the moment I woke up because I knew you'd…" He trailed off ineffectually and drew a shaky breath. "Since it really hasn't felt like nine months to me, it's sometimes difficult to realize…I just—don't kill me for saying it, but I'm so sorry."

"It isn't your fault you were struck by lightning," Iris muttered angrily, her eyes trailing the scar on his back. His excitement over that damn scar, she realized belatedly, was positively ludicrous. And it was so Barry.

"Maybe not, but…I haven't been around much since I woke up, have I?"

The words and the promise behind them meant more to Iris than Barry could possibly imagine, though when she looked up at him and he smiled at her, she figured that maybe he did. Iris' misplaced anger dissipated, and she found herself smiling back, the ache in her heart replaced by an unmistakable warmth—something she hadn't felt in nine months and eleven days.

I missed you. I missed you so much, Barry Allen.

She didn't really need to say anything more. Barry understood. He nodded decisively, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "We're watching the last Hobbit movie tonight at Joe's. No arguments."

"No arguments?" Iris raised her brows. "Sounds serious. I can't possibly dream of backing out now, can I?"

"Exactly. This is very serious. I haven't seen it yet, which is awful, and since you did promise me you'd come see the midnight premiere with me and I wasn't—um—able to see it…"

"I'd love to, Bear," she said, and the resulting grin was contagious. "I'd really, really love that."

It wasn't until later, after they cleaned themselves up, sipped at their lukewarm coffee, and bid each other goodbye, that Iris wondered if perhaps one good thing had come from the lightning strike.

She'd seen Barry shirtless numerous times, after all. And she knew for damn sure that fine six pack hadn't been there nine months ago anymore than the scar had.