Chapter Text
All she ever wanted was a relationship that was holy. One that would honour her as a daughter of God. A marriage built on 5 key principles: faith, love, trust, loyalty and family. A faith so powerful it was the source of their very being and the base upon which their home was built. A love so passionate and warm that even on the darkest and coldest days, her soul was radiant so long as her husband was beside her. Trust so strong that no storm could ever come to break it. Loyalty so binding that mountains could move and winds could change direction but their feet remained planted, him looking at her and she looking at him. A sense of family so complete that it served as the driving force and the glue that kept them together.
That had always been her dream from the moment she knew and understood the beauty and inner workings of matrimony. Of course there were other things she prayed for, like looks and credit scores but the pillars upon which her marriage and her house where to be built were those: faith, love, trust, loyalty and family.
That prayer was always apart of Iris’s prayer. Come rain, come snow, she would get down on her knees thank the Lord for the blessings that had been granted her, ask for forgiveness for all of her sins, cast her burdens unto him, and just as she closed she would pray for her other half. Her soulmate. May the Lord’s will be done.
It was always like that.
Almost always.
This time… let’s just say she tried.
Even as her shoulders shook and her bent knees where close to collapsing. Even though her prayer was a little shaky and whispered in between sobs. Even though tears stained her cheeks and her faith was wavering.
It was hard, to say the least. She thought she’d found him. The one who would help her build the God glorifying love story she had always dreamed about. And yet she couldn’t get the putrid images out of her mind. The image of her boyfriend of 4 years having his way with his colleague across his office desk.
They didn’t see her and she was too paralysed by horror to interrupt their misdeed. So she quietly slipped away (frozen in shock as she got into the elevator), left the building, got into her car and mindlessly drove away. Before she knew it she found herself in the parking lot of the church she had frequented since she was a child.
Still shaken, she walked up to the towering building and into the house of the Lord. And when she kneeled down and bowed her head to pray, a rush of grief came over her. She began to sob uncontrollably, shamelessly letting go of her pain at the only place she knew at that moment wouldn’t judge her, or pity her. The one place where her embarrassment didn’t matter.
At first she couldn’t do or say much.
She simply sat there in the silence of the near empty church, trying her best to keep her sobs and cries as quiet as possible. And when the images became too overwhelming and threatened to consume her, she did the only thing she knew to do at that moment. She replaced them with words of prayer.
It was hard at first.
All her focus was taken by her grief, her pain, her anger.
But she pushed through and said the prayer anyway. She repeated it over and over again in her mind until the only thing that was left was the prayer. Slowly, her tears began to dry and her heartbeat slowed some. The overwhelming emotions began to subside and a part from a dull ache in her chest, she couldn’t feel much of anything.
“If this be Your will Father, then let it be done…”
Her words were shaky though she was trying her best to be brave.
“But please, please give me the strength to pull through this. Don’t let me drown in my sorrow.” She pleaded.
“I’m tired of searching Lord. I leave my heart in your hands.”
Iris took a deep breath.
“Do with it what You will Lord.”
The words barely left her mouth because of her cries. She dipped her head further and cried even more, this time she didn’t bother to be quiet, she simply let herself go, allowing herself to put her burdens down.
Swollen eyes, hoarse and trembling. That’s how Iris left the church.
She felt exhausted in all senses of the word, her heart was weak and her mind felt foggy and in a daze. Aimlessly, without destination, she drove.
The road ahead seemed as confusing and unknown as her destiny.
Still she drove, without question, without thought.
And nearly crashed into an innocent soul crossing the road.
Her headlights highlighted his green eyes and the moment they connected with Iris’s own brown ones she snapped out of her daze just in time to hit the brakes.
She was lurched forward. He fumbled, tripped and fell.
Both their hearts raced as their minds processed what could have happened and didn’t.
Somehow (drawing strength from beyond herself), Iris trembled her way out of her car. First she fussed with her seatbelt then wrestled with the door handle before her shaky foot hit the tarred ground.
Click-clack, click-clack
Her heels sounded out as she wobbled toward the fallen man to help him get up. He seemed startled, an expected response, but accepted her help none the less and used her arms as supports when he stood.
“I’m so sorry. I have no idea what’s come over me.” She said shakily as she helped the man up. The man stood upright and towered over her, a whole two heads taller than her. Iris looked up at him with squinted swollen eyes before assessing the rest of his body. He was casually dressed in black sneakers, black skinny jeans and a plain white shirt that was visible beneath his unbuttoned dark blue plaid shirt. He looked like a college student fresh out of a teen rom-com.
“Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere?” she asked.
“I’m fine. It was just a scare.” He said.
“Are you sure?” She asked softly.
“Yeah I am. You on the other hand, don’t look so good.” He said and when Iris looked back at him she was met with wide eyes of realisation.
“I’m sorry, that was rude. It’s just. You’re eyes are all swollen and your mascara is smeared and you’re kinda shaking so um… I guess what I’m trying to say is… are, are you okay?”
Iris let go of the man (that she hadn’t realised she was still holding on to) and took a step back, looking down at her dark blue stilettoes.
“I’m fine.” She said though her tone was unconvincing to her own ears.
“Are you sure?” he mimicked her earlier question and she simply nodded.
“Well, can you buy me a drink?”
At that Iris’s head snapped up at him, her gaze glazed with confusion.
“Buy you a drink? What for?”
“Well, you said you were sorry for nearly running me over so… show me. Buy me a drink.”
Those words made her see the stranger in a completely new light. His previously boyish charm was replaced by a cocky charisma that sent chills down her spine and put a scowl on her face. Nevertheless, Iris reminded herself to breathe and submitted. After all, she had nearly run him over, she was truly sorry and even if he was taking advantage of her good nature, for tonight she would let him because, truth be told, she didn’t really want to be alone nor around any one she knew at that precise moment. So after (not) much thought, she finally said:
“Alright, fair enough. Can I offer you a ride?”
He smirked in a way that only reaffirmed her second impression of him.
“I’d love a ride.”
The drive to Bottoms’ Up was filled with idle chatter for the most part. Iris found out the handsome young man’s name was Barry Allen, he was a scientist and was just running to the store for a quick snack when she nearly ended his life prematurely.
He thanked her for her quick reflexes.
She thanked God for His goodness.
A look was exchanged between the two and they both knew where they each stood.
The topic was never approached again and the car grew awkwardly silent.
They arrived and though Iris wasn’t very much feeling like staying there any more (and she doubted he wanted her company any more that she wanted his) she had made a commitment that she intended to keep.
One broken promise was more than enough for her that day.
Stepping inside they were met with a lazy atmosphere, typical of a bar on a Tuesday night. The lack of a crowd made it easy for them to move inside the space but just as they were making their way to their seat, Iris’s phone began to ring. The blaring device demanded attention and drew curious eyes from tipsy bystanders. She fished it out of her purse and scowled when she saw the caller ID flashing menacingly.
A pet name that made bile rise at the back of her throat.
The nerve of this man! How dare he call you like he wasn’t just…?
The voice in her head was furious to say the least.
“Get us some seats. I’ll be right back.”
“You’re not ditching me are you?” Barry’s grip on her arm was meaningful though not harmful.
You should forget him. He’s no longer your concern. He made his choice when he did what he did. You’re better off without him.
“Get me a whiskey, double. On the rocks. I won’t be long.”
With those final words she made her way back the way they came and stepped outside. She didn’t want to call him back but she also didn’t want to feel chained to him any longer.
The phone barely got to its third ring before he picked up.
“Babe, where are you?”
BABE?!
“Get your s!@# and get out of my house. I don’t want to see you when I get back. We’re over.” She spat and hung up the phone. The curse word felt foreign in her mouth and left a bitter taste behind, a vivid reminder of the situation she found herself in.
Eddie tried to call back, clearly the message hadn’t gone through, but she wasn’t in the mood to hear any excuses so she sent him a single text:
Send Clarisse my regards.
The phone calls stopped after that. He texted back then.
Iris I’m so sorry. Please let me explain.
You can leave your copy of my keys at Mrs Bensons. Have a nice life.
With that she blocked his number and flung her phone back into her purse before making her way back inside. The voice in her head returned… with a slightly different agenda.
Maybe you should have heard what he had to say…What if he was really sorry? What if he had a good reason to do what he did? It’s not like he was getting any from you.
It was easy to spot Barry at the bar, with a beer in hand and a perspiring glass of hazel brown liquid beside him.
It’s been 4 years Iris, are you really going back into the dating scene now? You were making plans to marry this guy! He’s the one you prayed about! Come on. Everyone makes mistakes. What if this is just a test? You should call him back. Push through.
She grabbed the whiskey as soon as she got there downed it in a single go, welcoming the burn and ignoring the fact that she hadn’t had much to eat since breakfast (her lunch plans had been horribly cancelled).
“Woah, slow down Ms Danger. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re drinking to forget.” Barry remarked but Iris didn’t humour him. She simply ordered a second round with an added order of tequila shots.
“So will you help me forget?”
She asked, sliding the clear liquid and lemon to him.
You’re going to regret this. Why are you drinking with a total stranger when your long-time boyfriend is moving out! Iris!
He studied her for a seconded, knowing full well that it was a very bad idea, before picking up the tiny shot glass and calling out the cheer.
“To forgetting.”
He said, and clicked his glass against hers.
…
Forget she did. Well…sort of.
Without being able to fully open her eyes, Iris was met with blurry vision. Her hand came to her head, to the feel of messy hair…what was happening? Where was she? Her forehead creased. She hissed. That was the mother of all hangovers.
The images of the night before were a jumbled mess in her mind. Drinks spilling. Laughs echoing. Tears drying. Kisses exchanged. A cab shared. Stairs climbed. Clothes removed…
She gasped.
Her eyes shot open and she flinched almost immediately thanks to the pain that shot through her skull, but that didn’t slow the elevated heart rate that came with the shock of realisation. Realisation of her circumstance.
She began to sober, suddenly, quickly.
What have I done? What have I done? What have I done?
Taking in her foreign surroundings. The brightly lit room, decorated with hints of brown and beige but predominantly white. The soft sheets that covered her nakedness. The floor to ceiling windows that gave her a view of the sky and not much else but the very tippy tops of some buildings making her wonder how high she was exactly.
Iris felt her stomach turn, quickly realised that she didn’t know where the bathroom was and started taking deep breaths in hopes that she wouldn’t throw up on the man’s bed. Or what she assumed was the man’s bed.
It was all so messed up on so many levels.
The magnitude of the previous night’s events began to sink in and along with it came a crushing sense of guilt.
This was Iris’s third black out.
And only her second intimate experience.
The first she had given to the man she had just broken up with a few hours prior.
At the time. As soon as it was over she had looked at his satisfied face next to him, clung onto the sheets in hopes they would cover more than what they would and she instantly knew that she had made a big mistake. She hadn’t been ready yet. She had thought she was. She loved him, saw herself married to him and he had been so gentle and patient with her, so she figured it couldn’t hurt.
But the moment just wasn’t right and she should have known that if she had to overthink it, she probably should have took a step back. She talked about it with him. He seemed to have understood and even apologised for having “pressured” her into it making her feel even worse about her decision.
If she only knew what he’d been doing during lunch hour…
Now here she was.
Having given herself in an intimate way again, TO A COMPLETE STRANGER!
The tears welled up in her eyes again and she felt the bile rise in her throat but she took a deep breath.
Get yourself together.
Came the stern voice in her head and she nodded to herself, blinking away the tears. First order of business, she needed to get dressed and get out of there.
Wrapped in the white bed sheet Iris got up and decided to start hunting for her clothes but didn’t have to look for long. Behind the bed on the far left was a corridor lined on each side with plain white closet doors and marked at the end with a floor length mirror. Hanging from a circular wall hook above the one of the closet doors were her clothes from the night before. They seemed to have been washed, dried and ironed, taking Iris by surprise. Her shoes were poised neatly in front of the outfit, waiting for her to step into them.
A yellow sticky note clung to her corporate, dark blue mini dress. It read:
Despite the assignment, I had an unforgettable night. We should do this again sometime.
B
We should do this again sometime.
The sentence screamed out at her in the voice of indignation.
Just who did he think she was?!
A turmoil of emotions bubbled within her, creating a broth of rage that fuelled Iris who made quick work of getting dressed.
Knock-knock
Echoed through the room as she stepped into her shoes, followed by a poised voiced from the other side of what seemed to be a heavy wooden door.
“Ms, is there anything in particular you’d like for breakfast?”
The woman asked and Iris instantly went into red alert. How did she know that she was there?
“Ms?” the knock came yet again. “Ms?” and again.
“Ms. I’m coming in.”
As the doorknob began to turn Iris panicked and (looking at the yellow of the disposed sticky note) finally answered.
“Eggs!”
“Eggs?”
She mentally face palmed herself and scowled to herself.
“Yes, eggs. Scrambled in butter not oil.”
“Yes. Ms. Anything else?”
“No! That’s it. And please hurry, I need to leave soon.”
“Alright Ms. Please excuse me.” Came the polite reply followed by barely-there receding footsteps.
When the stillness was once again all consuming, Iris permitted herself the luxury of breaking it with a breath. She caught her reflection in the mirror then and sighed.
What are you doing Iris?
She thought to herself. On the outside she looked perfectly poised. Clean, ironed and polished. The picture of calm and collection. Like someone who had it all together.
On the inside she felt like the exact opposite.
Her life seemed like it was falling completely apart and after the night she had just had, she had no one to blame but herself.
Get it together.
Came that voice again, giving her just enough juice to look for her phone and car keys (that she thanked God she hadn’t left behind at the bar) and make her way downstairs.
In all honesty she was thinking about skipping breakfast all together. Not just because she was late to work but because she didn’t need any witnesses to her walk of shame.
Her shame was eating her up enough as it was.
But she was happy (and impressed) to find that her breakfast was conveniently packed to go complete with toast and a cappuccino. They’d taken a risk with her coffee but it payed off, she needed a bitter wake-up call that morning.
Shouting a thank you into the empty space (a grand open floor that was decorated with white and cold, minimal furniture but for a few couches here and there and the coffee table at the entrance from where she retrieved her breakfast) Iris left without so much as a single peek back and hoped to never return.
…
“Please reassign me.” Her voice was soft and sweet, a mirror image of the smile that lit up her face as she batted her lashes at her boss. It was Monday, almost a week after the incident had happened and Iris had almost convinced herself it was nothing but a bad dream.
Almost.
Her nightly routine consisted of her waking up drenched in sweat with very vivid memories of what happened between them. After which she would proceed to take freezing cold showers and pray until it was time to face her day.
And her recently challenging boss, Scott.
She normally didn’t have to put on this much of a show for Scott to change her assignment but for some reason this time around he was determined and “no” seemed to be his new favourite word.
“I’ve made up my mind, West. You’re writing the Allen piece and that’s that.”
That’s where Iris dropped her cute girl act and her trademark sass took over. Arms folded, hip jutted to the side and eyes trained on her boss that was barely giving her the time of day.
“But what exactly do you expect me to get out of a man that every journalist in town has basically written the exact same thing about for years. Literally the man’s cover interview with Times was the shortest that the magazine has had to date and it was basically a summary of every other interview that has ever been released on him. WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO GET OUT OF HIM?”
“Surprise me. I believe in you.” Scott shrugged, with his eyes glued on the computer screen in front of him. Iris let out a frustrated sigh and was a few seconds away from pulling her own hair out.
She huffed her way back to her desk and let her forehead fall on its surface, announcing her frustration.
The sound of office chair wheels rolling on the tiled floor could be heard and then:
“You ok hun?”
That was Linda, her colleague and best friend of almost 15 years.
“No.” came Iris’s muffled response. Her shoulders shook with the force of her sigh and she could really do with some pancakes.
“Bartholomew Allen.” She murmured and sighed yet again. The name left a bitter taste in her mouth.
She pictured a man old enough to be her grandfather with ancient values who will probably look down at her for working instead of being married, at home with two kids running around, one on her arm and one on the way.
The thought put enough anger in her to make her sit up suddenly in her chair.
Why don’t you rephrase that?
Ok? A wise man who has livid and acquired a lot of knowledge. Who probably has a different set of views than I do such as that I am old enough to be married and maybe have a child or two by now and that a career isn’t everything.
“He doesn’t even take photos for publication!” she yelled.
Guess the rephrasing didn’t work all that well.
“I mean who is this guy?! How can you not take photos in the selfie era and call yourself a public figure?!”
“Marshmallow did it. And Sia.” Linda offered.
“And, he’s technically not a public figure. Doesn’t look like he signed up for any of this fame stuff.” Joanie backed her up.
Iris hit them with a glare cold enough to kill.
“Whose side are you both on?” she almost growled.
“It’s not about taking sides Iris.” Linda tried to make her see reason.
“We’re just trying to reason with you. Maybe he’s not so bad. Plus you’re our star journalist. You’re always able to see what people can’t see in any type of case. If there’s any one who’s able to get a fresh point of view on this recycled story it’s you.”
“Yeah Iris.” Joanie encourage. “This guy is every journalists’ worst nightmare and you normally run towards cases like these. Remember?”
Both Linda and Joanie looked at Iris expectantly, waiting for her to put that last puzzle piece in place and she sighed for what felt like the millionth time.
“Yes because my Lord would not give me a burden too great for me to carry and if He did, then He would be right beside me helping me through it and making me stronger in the process.”
“Amen!” Both women shouted in unison and laughed as a genuine smile finally creeped onto Iris’s lips.
After the sisters-in-Christ pep talk Iris got down to her preliminary research. Much to her surprise an age had been revealed and he was closer to her age than she thought.
Lord forgive me for judging him before knowing any better.
She thought to herself as she used her desk mouse to scroll down the page.
Truth be told the information she had on him that made her despair and beg Scott to change her assignment was common knowledge in the industry. Bartholomew Henry Allen was one of those “You’ve read one, you’ve read them all” type of interviewees and she’d come across two articles on him in her life time. It was impossible not too if you were a citizen, double that a JOURNALIST in Central City.
He’d contributed to a little more than half of the city’s economy, starting with its pride and joy Star Labs, then branching out into a medical and pharmaceutical empire like no other in the area (and neighbouring areas for that matter). That doesn’t just include hospitals, clinics, specialised medical care and medication but educational institutions in the science and scientific research fields as well.
He made it so that when you thought science you thought Allen Co.
If that weren’t big enough, just that week Allen Co. had announced that they were merging with Ramon Industries, making it the biggest science and technology merger of the decade on a global scale. The stock prices of both companies sky rocketed and the net worth’s of both CEO’s close to doubled in a feat that was nothing short of impossible.
As Iris caught up she wondered how she’d missed out on so much.
Sure she’d always been more of a criminal reporter (which is one of the reasons why was so reluctant to take on this story in the first place) so she didn’t pay much mind to the business and science world unless someone were being taken to court. But these were major events. She shouldn’t be so out of the loop.
He seems to be desensitised, and speaks in a manner void of emotion.
Orphaned at the age of 10, Mr Allen has devoted his life to building the empire that is now known as Allen Co.
“What is your story Mr Allen?” Iris asked under her breath as she balanced the pen between her fingers with a quick motion. The more she read, the more intrigued she became and by the end of the day she had contacted his secretary and scheduled a meeting with him for the following Wednesday at his main office in the city.
…
[A few hours prior/ Barry’s Point of view]
As he looked out at the distant horizon where the sun lazily sank into the earth he wondered if there were any way for him to modify the glass of his floor to ceiling windows so as to enhance the overall experience of the sunset.
For as long as Barry could remember he’d always been that way. He’d always looked for solutions were there weren’t any problems. He liked to think that that’s what lead him to being the success that he became, but he knew better than to believe in fairy tales.
“Mr Allen?”
The voice on the phone speaker cut through his thoughts just in time to keep him from being sucked into the black hole that was his past.
He cleared his throat as he approached his desk and picked up the phone to respond.
“Yes Becky.”
“A Ms. West is requesting an interview with you sir, should I let her through or dismiss it?”
“Ms. West, Ms. West…” He repeated to himself as he took a seat, rolling the name around on his tongue. It sounded familiar but he couldn’t quite place it.
“Who is she representing?”
“CCPN sir.”
“Have I done any interviews for them before?”
“Not yet sir.”
“Hmm. Ms West you said?”
“Yes sir. Ms Iris West.”
At the mention of her first name Barry’s heart stopped and his grip on the phone tightened.
“Iris West?” He asked, his voice dangerously low.
“Yes sir.”
His disbelief was so prominent that it was almost tangible. He moved his mouse around to wake his computer screen then typed in the few details he had of her in his search engine. A quick search proved very fruitful and it wasn’t long before a familiar smiling face graced his screen. He let out a disbelieving breath.
Idiotic.
Clowned.
Played.
Made a fool of.
Used.
That’s how he felt in that moment.
“Sir?”
“Schedule the interview Becky.”
“Are you sure Sir?”
“Yes. The sooner the better.” He said in a tone that left no room for questions.
…
The day finally came and Iris woke up with her stomach in knots. Her gut kept telling her that something wasn’t quite right but it was one of those days in which she decided it would be best to just ignore it and go about her day. It was an important day after all and she couldn’t afford to have a negative gut feeling.
20 minutes before the appointed time for their meeting, Iris was in the lobby of Allen Co.’s main floor. Smartly dressed in an all-black pant suit and her favourite blue stilettoes. The same ones that walked her into all that trouble just two weeks prior. She figured she needed to give them a second chance and wash the bad memory away with a good experience.
If only she knew…
“Ms West. Mr Allen will see you now.”
Iris took a deep breath and wiped her sweaty palms off on her pants before getting up, adjusting the strap of her classic “every serious journalist has one” bag and following the secretary down the small hall to Mr Allen’s office.
“You can go in, Mr Allen is expecting you.” The kind blonde smiled at her and Iris offered her a mirrored expression as she stepped around her and into the open the door.
The office was clean. Too clean. Floor to ceiling windows, white tiles, a desk made of glass and a top it each little item and stack of paper sat neatly in its place.
It almost gave her déjà vu.
And there he stood.
The man of the hour.
The mystery she came to unfold.
Bartholomew Allen himself. In the flesh, stood with his back to her, looking out at the city bellow. She approached with caution.
“Mr Allen?” He didn’t budge.
“Mr Allen?” She tried a little louder.
That’s when he chuckled under his breath. Iris wondered what he saw that could have been so funny so she approached to try and take a look but that’s when he turned suddenly and made her take an abrupt step back that nearly had Iris tripping over her own feet.
He had on a grey suit that seemed to have been tailor made and sunglasses so big they covered half his face. Still, something about him seemed oddly familiar.
“You f!@#$%& w!@#$.” He yelled, the veins on his neck seeming to yell along with him, like exclamation marks on his skin.
“E-excuse me?” Iris stuttered, clearly taken aback by the verbal attack. Though she wasn’t expecting a warm welcome that, obviously, wasn’t the greeting she was expecting either.
Mr Allen chuckled, a malevolent and sarcastic smirk rested on his lips and Iris could almost bet that beneath the giant shades that hid almost half his face, his eyes were probably racking over her with disdain. At least that’s what the chill that crawled over her skin told her.
“So how long has it been? Huh? How long have you planned this?”
To say that Iris was confused would be to put it lightly.
“I’m sorry Mr Allen, but I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Cut the b!@#$%&* Iris.” He said and snatched the glasses from his face. Iris stumbled back then once her eyes met his familiar green ones. All breath completely left her lungs and her mind went completely blank except for a single thought:
Jesus help me.