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Len liked the cemetery. Something about being so close to his final resting place, or at least the landmark that had been dedicated in his honor without a body to bury, sent a wash of comfort and home over his shoulders like a warm scarf.
He observed every visitor, watching them bring fresh flowers for loved ones every week or two. The bouquets were ornate, with carefully selected pairings.
They must've cost a fortune. Len wondered how much money they spent on the dead.
His headstone was fresh, carved intricately with detailing that looked a little bit too much like snowflakes. A metal plaque read “Savior of Central City” fixed underneath his name.
It made Len chuckle.
Today was different than most days. Today, he had a visitor.
Barry Allen entered the plot where all the rogues’ graves were, approaching the centerpiece that was Len’s monument. He was holding a bouquet of mostly blue pansies and snowdrops. He sat down a few feet in front of the headstone and let out a sigh.
“You think it’d be easier coming back here after the first time,” he said to himself. "But I still cry every time I visit my mom," he added wryly.
There was a little holder built into the stone. Barry leaned forward and dropped the flowers into it. They were nestled just under the plaque.
“Hope you like pansies, they were the only blue flowers in the shop,” Barry explained. “The florist told me the pansies represent free thinking, and the snowdrops can mean rebirth and hope. I thought they were pretty fitting. Figured you'd be happy with anything other than red.”
"Scarlet was always my favorite color," Len said with a small smile.
Len was standing behind his headstone, arms crossed. Against better judgment, he rounded the stone and sat on the grass next to Barry.
“I can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if you never joined the Legends - if you had stayed in Central. How your life would’ve played out, instead of-” Barry inhaled sharply and blinked back tears.
“Easy there, kid. It almost sounds like you care,” Len said smoothly.
“I’m sorry, Len,” Barry exhaled softly. “I wanted you to see that you could be a hero, not die a martyr.”
“It was a calculated decision, Barry. You can’t blame yourself for what I chose to do.”
“What you did saved the entire city, and no one even remembers,” Barry said.
“You remember,” Len pointed out.
“Your graves sit here in Central, alongside all the other empty caskets with no one left to mourn them,” Barry went on. “I try to stop by while I’m visiting my mom, but… it’s hard.” He picked at a few blades of grass.
Len cast a side glance at the younger man, watching the pained expression grow across his flushed face.
“I guess I just always assumed one day you’d pop back up in Central doing another bank robbery or something. We’d fight like old times. My speed racing against your cold gun, always pushing the limits,” Barry laughed a short, deprecating laugh.
“I miss that,” Len adds softly.
“I miss you,” Barry said in a soft tone, surprised by his admission. “Even you wouldn’t have been able to predict how much I’d miss you. We had such a rocky start, it feels like lifetimes ago.”
The wind whipped around him for a moment, ruffling his hair and sending a chill down his spine. Barry’s eyes stung with the promise of tears pulling at the corners. He opened his mouth to continue, a hesitant pause hanging in the air.
“For you, it was a lifetime ago,” he said, voice scratchy. He hugged his knees tightly, eyes downcast. Tears cascaded gently down Barry’s cheeks, and he rubbed at them roughly with the sleeve of his jacket. Len reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.
“There are so many things I never got to tell you, a lifetime of things left unsaid,” Barry rambled. “It haunts me, and in a way, I guess you haunt me too.”
“More than you know,” Len said with a wry grin. Barry glanced down at his wrist, checking his watch.
“Shit,” he exclaimed, rubbing the last tears from his eyes, “I’m going to be late for lunch with Iris.” He sniffled, and stood up, giving the headstone one last glance. “I’ll be back,” he promised.
“Until then,” Len replied. He watched Barry stand and dust off his jeans, giving one last glance to the flowers cradling the plaque, eyes tracing the letters just above it, before he turned to leave.
Len knew he’d come back.
Barry always comes back.