Important: This will be the final chapter of the story. I don't like to draw out conclusions because I find them forced and tedious. However, so much needs to be addressed after everything that's happened up to this point, which is why I intend to write a separate epilogue for this story. It's all too much to cram into one final chapter, so I will be writing a short, multichapter conclusion to this story in the near future. See the author's note at the end of this chapter for more details.

There's a lot of medicine in this chapter. I tried to keep it to a minimum, but it's also kind of important, and I like to make things as realistic as possible.

Warning: This chapter isn't exactly happy. I don't think I need to tell you that a story like this isn't going to end with rainbows and butterflies.

To Forget

Government Still in Disarray Post-Central City Metacide

Eleven More Senate Members Taken in for Questioning Yesterday

Clinton Price Trial Date Still Yet to be Determined

Over Two-Thousand Metahuman Deaths Now Confirmed

Twelve Microchips Removed Successfully With the Help of MRA Doctors

Flash Identity Revealed as None Other Than Barry Allen: The Face of the Lucy Resistance

Family of Barry Allen Still Unavailable for Comment

Vigil Outside Keystone Memorial Continues for Recovering Hero

"They're all still out there."

Joe glanced up from his newspaper to look at Iris, who was standing at the window of the small hospital room, looking down at the crowd in the street below.

"I heard people are coming from all over the country," Henry said, not bothering to look out the window.

Most of them didn't look anymore. It made them feel like they were being watched. They were going through one of the most emotional ordeals a family could ever go through, and they had the whole country watching them. They tried to ignore all the reporters and tried not to resent the people who were just there to support them. After all, the more people praying for Barry, the better.

Instead of looking out the window, Joe looked at Barry—as hard as that was. Barry almost looked like he did when he was in a coma—hospital gown, closed eyes, a tube down his throat. At the same time, though, this looked nothing like the coma. Barry was a skeleton. His hair was shaved short. His face was nearly unrecognizable. A full week in the hospital, and Barry still looked like death.

It wasn't like the coma.

Still, they had to be grateful. It was a miracle Barry's heart was even beating. It was a miracle they had managed to restart it. From his work as a cop, Joe knew it wasn't like the movies. He knew that when people went into cardiac arrest, the chances of restarting their heart successfully were slim, and they were next to zero when the victim's heart had been stopped for more than ten minutes. Barry had been in the pit for at least a half hour. There was a good chance his heart didn't stop right away, though. As much as the thought of Barry laying in a pit of bodies, slowly dying, broke their hearts, the fact that his heart didn't stop right away may have been the reason they were able to save him.

Still, though, Joe knew the statistics. Even after being revived, the survival rate for out-of-hospital cardiac arrest victims was only eleven percent. The dark truth was that most of them ended up dying anyways within twenty-four hours of being revived. Barry had thankfully passed this twenty-four-hour mark, but even after a week in the hospital, spontaneous cardiac arrest was still a strong possibility. The doctors were doing everything they could to prevent that, though.

"Why do you have to do that again?" Iris asked the doctor.

Caitlin was currently wrapping cooling blankets around Barry's torso.

"We have to lower his body temperature," she sighed, "It's therapeutic hypothermia. It should help preserve his cells and stop them from self-destructing."

"Why would they self-destruct?" Wally asked incredulously.

"It's pretty common," Henry said quietly from his seat in the corner of the room, "Barry's heart was stopped for a long time. It took them nearly an hour to revive him. The only reason they were able to was because his…body was out in the cold. It prevented his cells from breaking down. There have been a lot of cases where young, healthy people have fallen through ice and were revived hours later. The cold prevents their cells from breaking down from the lack of oxygen. Once they get warm again, though…"

"Keeping him cold will prevent toxins from building up in his cells," Caitlin continued, "As the cells are reintroduced to oxygen, they need to be continuously kept at a lower body temperature."

"But can his body handle that?" Iris asked worriedly, "He's so thin now. He's recovering from starvation, a gunshot wound, frostbite, and a deadly virus. He's not even breathing on his own. Won't the cold slow his recovery?"

Caitlin and Henry both nodded solemnly.

"It's about finding the right balance," Caitlin said sadly, "He needs this therapy, but too much of it will kill him. We're monitoring him closely to make sure that doesn't happen."

Joe didn't understand the science of it all. He didn't know complex medicine, yet he listened to everything the doctors said, trying to understand what he could. What he knew from it was that Barry was far from out of the woods. It was a medical miracle that he was even still alive after everything his body had been through. His heart was the main concern right now, considering he had already had heart damage from the chip in his neck.

Caitlin had explained it to them. After the lightning, Barry's heart became accustomed to beating at a much faster rate. The microchip blocked the speed force in Barry's system, but his physiology didn't change. His heart continued to strain itself, but it didn't have the support of the speed force to maintain its high baseline rate. That, combined with starvation, caused the chamber walls of Barry's heart to thin over time. Long-story-short, Barry now had the heart of a geriatric—a heart that could stop beating at any moment.

"Why can't we just take the damn chip out of his neck already?" Cisco asked impatiently, "The doctors know how to do it now, so let's just get it out of him. Then he can heal faster."

Caitlin and Henry both reluctantly shook their heads.

"He's not strong enough," Henry whispered, "He wouldn't survive the surgery."

"And if he did, his body wouldn't be able to adjust to the return of his powers so quickly," Caitlin sighed, "It would be too much for him."

"Why is the chip even still active?" Joe gritted, "The MRA has been shut down. Why are the chips still repressing their powers?"

"Because Barry crashed their network," Cisco sighed, "His hacking scheme won us the war, but it also backfired. They haven't been able to get into the system to turn the chips off yet."

"You don't really believe that, do you?" Iris said bitterly, "They could turn the chips off if they really wanted to."

"You're right," Henry agreed darkly, "They probably could."

"Then why aren't they?" Wally demanded.

"Because they don't want the metahumans acting out," Joe muttered, "They don't want them to retaliate or to do anything extreme."

"That's why they're screening them," Caitlin sighed, "Metahumans have to go through a lot of therapy and psychological evaluation before they can be approved for the surgery. That's why only twelve of them have had them removed. They have to be physically healthy enough for the procedure and psychologically stable enough for their powers to be returned to them. So far, only type two metahumans have been approved for the surgery."

"The government is just trying to keep the peace," Henry added, "How they're doing it is so wrong, but it's to keep a second fight from breaking out—to stop any acts of retaliation."

"They're trying to prevent a metapocalypse outbreak," Iris whispered, understanding.

"Once Barry is stable enough, we'll apply for the chip removal surgery for him," Caitlin assured them, "Right now, though, we're just trying to keep him alive. His organs are failing, but as we reintroduce nutrients to his body, his health should improve."

Barry had been getting tube feedings for the last week, but the amounts they were giving him were miniscule. If they gave him too much, they would be risking refeeding syndrome—a condition that primarily affected the victim's heart. It was just another reason why Barry wasn't ready to have his powers returned to him. His metabolism would ramp up, and he would require more calories to function—calories his body couldn't handle right now.

"I just wish he would wake up," Iris sniffed, staring at Barry's gaunt face, "I just want to hear his voice. I want to talk to him."

They all nodded in agreement. They hadn't spoken to Barry in five months. They had seen him through Cisco's vibes, watched him suffer alone while they were unable to comfort him. All they wanted now was to hold him and tell him how proud of him they were—to tell him that everything was going to be okay now and they weren't going to let anyone hurt him ever again.

They didn't know if they were ever going to get the chance, though. Even if Barry survived, they had been told there was a strong possibility he would never wake up. Even then, Barry might end up having significant brain damage after being flatlined for so long. There were a lot of "ifs" and the odds weren't in their favor.

Still, though, Barry had been through too much, survived too much, for him to not be fine. He had to pull through. Any other scenario was unfathomable to them.

Another full week passed, and Barry seemed to grow slightly more stable each day. He didn't seem to be gaining any weight, but his color returned to him. During that week, the media grew more restless. Joe nearly assaulted one reporter who managed to slide past security and sneak into Barry's hospital room to get a picture. The man was escorted out of the hospital by security before Joe was able to smash his camera into a thousand pieces.

And so, the picture got out, and headlines continued to explode.

Will the Flash Survive his Second Coma?

Many people knew all about Barry's first coma by now. How they all found out Barry was the Flash was unclear. It could have gotten out in any number of ways. The MRA's medical files. The EMTs Joe had told in his moment of desperation to save Barry. It wasn't exactly surprising to anyone. The rumors that Barry Allen was the Flash had been circulating the city ever since the Lucy Resistance was founded. It just hadn't been confirmed yet.

It seemed the whole country knew Barry's life story now. They knew all about his family tragedy. They knew about his first coma and correctly connected the dots that the lightning had given him his powers. They knew about him owning STAR Labs and using the facility as a headquarters for his heroism. They knew a great deal of what had happened to Barry while under the MRA's reign, thanks to the Resistance videos, but other details were slowly leaked over the course of those two weeks. As MRA officials were questioned, more information about Barry was brought to light. People knew about his hacking scheme by now. They knew about the lab and his immunity to the Marburg virus.

The Wests had even been contacted by researchers looking to study Barry's antibodies. Naturally, they refused to let the doctors anywhere near Barry. In fact, the only public statement they had made to the press was to say that if people continued to try to sneak into Barry's hospital room, they would press harassment charges. It didn't stop people from trying to get into the hospital, though.

Some of them were press. Others were researchers. Most of them, however, were admirers—people who only wanted to sneak in to see their hero and offer support. Despite their good intentions, Barry's friends and family just wanted to be left alone. Even the hospital staff seemed to come by the room a little more often than necessary. Caitlin and Henry requested to do most of Barry cares and treatments on their own, though.

Caitlin was always good about balancing being a doctor with being a close friend. Henry, on the other hand, struggled with it more, except it wasn't in the way they were all expecting. Henry was more of a doctor to Barry now than he was a father. He was clinical about everything, very rarely showing much emotion as he cared for his son. Although it seemed strange, they all understood it. Henry was protecting himself. Barry's odds weren't good, and he was trying hard not to get his hopes up.

Henry was just focused on trying to save him. He wasn't letting his emotions cloud his medical judgement. He treated Barry like a normal patient, spending more time looking at Barry's chart or his heart monitor than he did at Barry himself. There were moments, though, when Henry would look at Barry—when he had no choice but to look at his son, when they were doing a tube feeding or turning him in bed.

Henry was bombarded by a confusing storm of emotions every time he looked at Barry's face and was reminded of his reality. This skeleton, this corpse-like patient he had been caring for for two weeks was Barry. This emaciated, broken human lying in bed was his son—his son, whom he had failed to protect. Every time Henry was suddenly struck by this reality, it was like a slap to the face. And every time, he would push those emotions down. He would look away from Barry. Check his CBCs or his O2 levels. Anything but look at his broken son.

That was made a lot harder when Barry woke up.

It was a Tuesday afternoon. Henry was changing the bandages on Barry's frostbitten fingers when one of the fingers suddenly twitched. It initially startled him, but Henry wasn't alarmed. It wasn't the first time Barry's fingers had reflexively twitched under his touch.

But then the entire hand moved.

Henry jumped back in shock. His eyes darted to Barry's face, his heart clenching like it always did when he looked at his son's gaunt features. And then he saw Barry's eyes. They were cracked open, just the smallest bit.

"Joe," Henry whispered.

Joe jerked awake in the chair he was sitting in on the other side of the room.

"What's wrong?" he asked urgently, rushing towards the bed.

They were the only two in the room. Iris had gone home to get a change of clothes, Cisco and Caitlin had decided to go on a coffee run, seeing as they were all sick of hospital coffee, and Wally was currently giving blood—something they all had done to help contribute to the hospital shortages.

Henry didn't answer him. He continued to stare at Barry's eyes, watching them flutter ever so slightly. They weren't fully open, but Joe and Henry could both tell.

"He's awake," Joe gasped in shock.

Joe's hand slid into Barry's bandaged one, squeezing it gently.

"Barry?" he choked, placing his other hand on Barry's chest, "Barry, can you hear me?"

And then Barry gagged. A soft choking nose suddenly sounded from his throat as his eyes shot open, wide in panic.

"He's fighting intubation," Henry said urgently, rushing for a syringe.

He quickly grabbed one and attached it to the combitube in Barry's throat, sucking the air out of it to deflate the internal balloon that kept the tube in place. Henry didn't hesitate to then rapidly pull the tube from Barry's throat. A small amount of vomit came with it.

Henry nearly cried in relief. Barry had a gag response again. His eyes were open—bright hazel irises staring back at him.

Barry coughed and gagged several times once the tube was removed, his eyes watering. There was no more vomit, though, considering it had been hours since Barry's last tube feeding. Henry grabbed a towel and started to wipe his son's mouth for him. He pulled his hand back almost instantly, though, when a thin, shaky arm reached up to stop him. Barry was too weak to push him away, but Henry and Joe both got the message.

They both took a step back to give Barry space.

"Barry?" Henry whispered.

Barry sucked in several large breaths, his watery eyes completely unfocused as he strained to breathe on his own. Henry desperately wished the other doctor was here right now. In a single instant, he had switched from doctor mode to father mode. As soon as Barry's eyes were open, Henry was no longer a doctor. He was a dad.

A million medical urgencies were flooding his mind at once. He should check Barry's airway. His lung sounds. His heart. He should do a neuro check and make sure his eyes are reacting to light. He should be monitoring Barry's blood pressure, checking for brain damage, for nerve damage, full CMS. He should be doing something.

But all Henry could do was stare.

"Barry," Joe said softly, gently laying a hand on Barry's shoulder.

Barry flinched, causing Joe to retract his hand.

"Bar," he whispered, "It's me. It's Joe."

Joe leaned closer to Barry without touching him, making sure Barry could see him but not reaching out for him like he desperately wanted to. Barry stared back at him with watery eyes, and Joe and Henry could both see the moment when his eyes cleared, confusion being replaced by recognition.

"J-joe," Barry breathed.

The name came out of his mouth with hardly any sound, but Joe and Henry both sighed in relief at that one word. Barry could speak. He could think. He recognized them. It was an extremely good sign. It was a sign Barry didn't have brain damage—that he was himself.

"I'm here, Bar," Joe choked, "It's me. I'm here. You're okay. Everything's okay."

Barry was still gasping for breath, still trying to adjust to breathing on his own again. He didn't say anything, just looked back and forth between his two dads.

"You're in a hospital, Barry," Henry told him gently, his voice shaking, "You're in a hospital in Keystone."

Barry's eyebrows furrowed slightly as he took in this news. He sucked in several large breaths, the air sounding strained as it moved in and out of his lungs.

"P-price?" he gasped.

"He's taken care of, Barry," Joe assured him, "Don't worry about him. You're safe now. All the metahumans are safe. It's over now."

A few tears escaped Barry's eyes as he processed these words.

"It's o-over?" he whispered.

Joe and Henry both nodded, their own tears now brimming over.

"It's over," Henry choked, "It's all over, Slugger. No one's going to hurt you, ever again."

The two men both stood next to the bed, waiting for Barry to say something after these words. He didn't say anything, though. He stared blankly at them, letting the words sink in.

And then Barry's face crumpled.

"Bar," Joe whispered.

Barry shook his head, his face screwing up as tears streamed down his face.

"It's over," he sobbed.

Joe and Henry both moved towards him at once, both reaching out for him. Joe backed off, though, allowing Henry to hug his son first. Henry wrapped his arms around Barry, carefully at first, waiting to see how the hug would be received. Barry didn't push him away now, though. He sank into the hug, clutching his father desperately with his bandaged hands as he sobbed into Henry's shoulder.

"Shh," Henry soothed, cradling Barry in his arms, "It's okay, Barry. Everything's okay."

Henry pulled back slightly to look at his son. He needed to see his face—to see his open eyes starting back at him. Barry's eyes were the only part of his face that looked truly recognizable. Even his eyes, though, looked…different. Deeper.

Older.

As he looked into Barry's eyes, Henry couldn't help but wonder if, after everything, they were getting the same Barry back.

Joe moved to hug Barry next. As soon as his arms were wrapped around Barry, he finally felt content. He finally allowed himself to feel relieved for the first time in months. His stomach twisted for a moment when his mind flashed back to that day, when he had held Barry like this in a pit of bodies. This was so different, though. Instead of clutching Barry's thin, broken body, Joe was holding Barry—warm, alive, and awake—in his arms. Barry was hugging him back with what Joe assumed was all the strength he had. Barry's thin arms weren't very strong at the moment, but Joe knew Barry was straining himself, trying to keep him close.

So Joe didn't pull away. He stayed there and let Barry sob uncontrollably into his shoulder, burying his face in his neck. It had been a long time since Joe had seen Barry cry this way. It reminded him of all those late nights, when Barry was a child and had just woken up from a nightmare after his mother had died. Joe had held him the same way then as he was now.

"Oh my God," a voice came from the doorway.

Joe reluctantly pulled out of the hug to see his daughter standing there.

"Barry," Iris choked.

Faster than the Flash, Iris suddenly launched herself at Barry, flinging her arms around him. Barry winced slightly at the unexpected contact.

"Sorry," Iris cried, quickly pulling back, "I'm sorry! I know how sore you must be!"

Barry shook his head, tears streaming down his face as he gave her a watery smile before pulling her back in. A small laugh escaped his lips as they hugged, but it almost sounded more like a sob. Barry was taking deep, shaky breaths as he hugged her, looking like he never wanted to let go.

When they finally broke the hug, they both had tears streaming down their faces. All of them did. It took Barry a moment to control his breathing and take it all in before he spoke. When he did, they were all surprised to see his face go from relieved to fearful in an instant.

"T-the others?" he choked, his voice cracking, "Did the others…?"

"The other metahumans were freed, Barry," Joe assured him, squeezing his hand, "They got out."

Barry shook his head, a few tears falling from his eyes.

"Elizabeth," he breathed, "Elizabeth W-waldeck. Katherine Metz. Adam Emmerich."

Barry's breathing became more strained as he listed off names, his breath hitching uncontrollably in his throat. Iris put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him, her eyebrows furrowing as she looked at her father.

"We don't know, Bar," Joe said softly, "Everything is still a little chaotic right now. Adam is alive. He's the one who helped us take down Price. The others, though…"

Joe looked at Iris and Henry with a strained expression on his face. He didn't even know who those people were. They must have meant a great deal to Barry, though, if the first thing he said upon waking up was to ask if they were alive. Joe and the other two exchanged tearful looks. Odds were, they were probably dead. Less than three-hundred metahumans had survived to the end, and over two-thousand deaths had now been confirmed. That's just what was confirmed, though. They were still in the process of identifying the bodies. The metazone had originally contained over 5800 metahumans.

Roughly three percent of them had survived.

"You need to find out for me," Barry choked, "I n-need to know. Kathy and Elizabeth…"

"I'll check the registry, Barry," Joe said sadly, "I'll see if they're on the list of survivors."

Barry nodded tearfully and wiped his face.

"Who are they?" Iris whispered, gently rubbing Barry's shoulder to sooth him.

Barry shook his head. He opened and closed his mouth several times, at a loss for words.

"They're…my family," he finally whispered, "They're like family to me."

Barry sucked in a ragged breath as he wiped the tears from his face.

"They have t-to be alive," he choked, "They have to be."

"Shh," Iris soothed, pulling him closer to her, resting her chin on top of his head, "It's okay, Barry. Everything's going to be okay now."

She knew they were empty words. Iris didn't know what else to say to him, though. What do you say to someone who just spent four months in hell? Who had just watched countless friends die? She may have seen vibes of Barry, but she didn't know everything he went through. She had only seen glimpses of it.

She had no idea what else had happened to him.

"Barry!"

They all looked over at once as Cisco entered the room, a huge grin on his face.

"You're awake, man!" Cisco exclaimed happily, laughing as he crossed the room and wrapped his arms around the other man.

Barry managed a small smile as he hugged Cisco back. His face was unreadable, though. It was hard to tell what he was feeling because he was probably feeling everything at once. Barry looked so happy and so incredibly sad, all at the same time.

Caitlin stood in the doorway, staring at Barry in shock. She hadn't expected this. At least, not as a doctor. She was hopeful, of course, but a part of her hadn't been expecting Barry to wake up—at least, not this soon. She didn't know what to do. She was torn between being a doctor and a friend.

In the end, friendship trumped medicine. A small sob escaped Caitlin's lips as she crossed the room and pulled Barry into a hug, rather than pester him with assessments right away.

"Barry," she cried, "You're awake!"

Barry shakily hugged her back but didn't say anything. Caitlin glanced worriedly at Henry then.

"Is he…?" she choked, "Can he…?"

"I'm right here, Caitlin," Barry said softly, "I can speak."

Caitlin sighed in relief. Barry might still have had brain damage, but at least he could speak.

"How are you feeling?" she sniffled, "You must be in so much pain. I can give you a dose of Percocet if you need it, or I can—"

"Caitlin," Barry whispered, cutting her off, "I'm fine."

Everyone stared at Barry in disbelief. There was no way he wasn't in pain. His body had been through hell and back. He had been shot, frozen, and starved for five months. Everything about Barry screamed pain right now.

"I feel a hundred times better now than I did when I was…"

The words died in Barry's throat, and he shook his head, wiping a tear from his face.

"I'm warm," he said simply, a small half-laugh, half-sob escaping his lips, "I'm in a bed."

Barry looked down at the bed he was laying in then, a strange expression on his face. It was almost as if he couldn't believe it was there. They all watched him sadly, understanding what he was saying. Barry was in pain—on that, there was no doubt—but to him, this was the best he had felt in a long time.

"We should close the door," Joe said suddenly then, looking nervously at the open door to the hospital room.

"Why?" Iris asked in confusion.

Joe quickly rushed over and closed the door before answering her.

"I don't want the hospital staff to know he's awake yet," he fretted.

They all nodded in understanding then. It would cause an uproar. As soon as it got out that Barry Allen was awake, the media would go into a frenzy. They would have twice the amount of people trying to sneak in to see Barry. Except this time, it wouldn't be for a picture. It would be for an interview.

Barry wasn't ready for that.

"Why?" Barry asked in confusion, "Why shouldn't the hospital staff know I'm awake?"

They all looked at each other, all thinking the same thing. They shouldn't tell him yet. Barry had enough to process right now without them telling him that every person in the country knew his name—that he was famous. Barry couldn't handle that burden right now.

"I just really want to do your checkups myself, Barry," Caitlin answered slowly, "The doctors here…they're swamped with patients right now. I don't want someone rushing through your cares."

To their surprise, Barry looked down at his lap, a sullen look on his face.

"They all hate me, don't they?" he whispered.

Everyone's eyes widened in confusion.

"What?" Iris asked, "Why would you say that?"

"Because I'm a metahuman," Barry said softly, "That's how it was the last time I was in a hospital."

They all understood then. Barry was thinking of how things were when he had come to the hospital after being attacked by metahunters five months ago. The hospital had only assigned interns and students to care for metahumans. Barry had faced a lot of discrimination throughout his entire stay, and clearly the experience had stuck with him.

They didn't know how to explain it to him. How things were different now. How most of the medical staff loved him and wanted to meet him. Of course, there were still plenty of people out there who disliked metahumans, but after everything that had happened, most people were compassionate towards them now.

"No, Barry," Joe answered him, "Things are…different now. The doctors here aren't neglecting metahumans anymore. We just want Caitlin and your dad to take care of you because the doctors are busy and don't have much time to give each patient the individual care they need."

Barry nodded slowly, looking down in thought.

"Thank you," he whispered, looking at each of them in turn, "You saved me. I…thank you."

Joe shook his head, tears forming in his eyes.

"We didn't save you, Barry," he choked, "You saved yourself."

Barry's eyebrows furrowed.

"No, I didn't," he said in confusion, "All I did was get myself shot."

They all looked at each other, not even knowing how to explain to Barry the enormity of all he had accomplished. He really didn't understand how much he had done?!

"Yes, you got shot," Joe said gently after a moment, "But we were only able to take down the MRA and save you because of what you did."

Barry shook his head in confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

"The jump drive," Cisco said, "You hacked into the MRA. You found out who Price really was and what his plans were."

"And you managed to get the message out," Iris continued, "You warned everyone. It was the push people needed to finally take action against the MRA."

"You're a hero, Bar," Joe choked.

Barry looked down at his legs, his eyes filling with tears as he slowly shook his head.

"Barry?" Iris said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He didn't look at her, though. He continued to stare down at the bed, his eyes far away. When he finally spoke, he asked the question they all had been dreading.

"How many survived?"

They all looked at each other, eyes filling with tears as they tried to figure out what to tell him. Caitlin decided on the truth.

"Three-hundred-sixty-four," she said softly, "That's what's been confirmed so far. It's been two weeks, so the number should be fairly accurate by now."

Barry's hand moved up to his mouth, tears escaping his eyes and trailing down his face as he sucked in a ragged breath.

"Th-three-hund…" he choked, sucking in another strained breath.

"I'm so sorry, Barry," Joe whispered, putting a hand on his shoulder, "We tried to get to you sooner, but…"

Barry shook his head and a sob escaped his lips. They all silently watched him break down, none of them knowing what to say. There wasn't anything any of them could say. Thousands of people were dead. That solemn fact was weighing heavily on all of them, but for Barry…

It had to be so much worse.

They may have watched everything happen, but Barry had lived through it. He had survived it.

"Barry," Caitlin said gently after a moment, "I can't even imagine how overwhelming this all must be for you right now, but…I really need to give you a checkup. I need to run some tests."

Barry sniffed and wiped his eyes before nodding.

"Okay," he whispered, his eyes far away.

It was as if he hadn't even heard her.

Who would have thought fighting to get past the crowds to enter a hospital would be just as hard as trying to get into the MRA? The sheer number of people crowded outside Keystone Memorial was staggering. They packed the streets for blocks, to the point where the streets had been completely closed to through-traffic and detours had been put in place.

It took Oliver and Felicity over an hour just to park and fight their way through the crowds. And then there was the obstacle of hospital security.

"We're here to see Barry Allen," Oliver told security personnel.

"You and everyone else in this city," the guard huffed, "You can wait outside with the others. Be sure to stay out of the ambulance loading area. This hospital still needs to function."

"I'm Oliver Queen," he persisted, "I'm on Barry's visitation list."

The head of security sighed and consulted his records, his eyebrows raising when he realized they were, in fact, on the visitation list.

"I'm going to need to two forms of identification," he told them gruffly, "For both of you."

Oliver and Felicity both complied, taking note of how carefully the officer verified their IDs. People must have tried to use fake identification to get in to see Barry before. Although it was a nuisance, Oliver was pleased to see how seriously the hospital was taking its security. He and Felicity were even searched before they were allowed access to Barry's floor.

"If we're on the list, why on earth would they suspect us of wanting to hurt Barry?" Felicity pointed out.

"They're just paranoid," Oliver sighed as they walked down the hallway, "And with good reason. Everyone knows he's the Flash now, after all. Barry's always enemies, but now they know who he is. And then there's always the meta-haters still around. There are a lot of people would want to hurt him."

Oliver and Felicity walked silently for the rest of the way down the hallway, until they reached the metahuman wing, where they had to go through even more security. Once they were permitted to enter, they approached the nurses station.

"We're here to see Barry Allen," Oliver said to the head nurse.

She gave him an uneasy look at these words.

"He's not taking visitors right now," she said nervously, "I suggest you come back when he's—"

"We know he's awake," Felicity cut across her, "His family contacted us and told us to come. We'll sign whatever confidentiality agreements you have, but we're going to see him today."

The nurse opened and closed her mouth a couple times before nodding.

"Very well, then," she said before continuing in a hushed tone, "It's important that you keep Mr. Allen's status a secret for the time being. Not even all the hospital staff knows he's awake now. Only a select few. There will be a press release later this week, but we're just trying to keep things controlled until then. He's only been awake for a few hours and needs time to adjust before the media goes into a frenzy."

Oliver and Felicity both nodded their agreement. The nurse then handed them off to Barry's doctor, who filled them in as they walked to Barry's private, secured area of the metahuman wing.

"He's been resting on and off," Dr. Bryce told them as they approached the door, "His primary physicians, Dr. Snow and Dr. Allen, have been doing most of his cares. They didn't want hospital staff to know he's awake."

"How is he?" Felicity asked worriedly.

The Wests had been keeping them updated on Barry's medical status over the last couple weeks, but they hadn't heard much about how he was now—only that he was awake.

"He's in shock," Dr. Bryce sighed, "Still trying to process everything. He hasn't been speaking much since he woke up."

When they approached the door to Barry's room, however, that didn't seem to be the case.

"I don't care!" Barry was shouting when they entered the room.

"Barry," Joe said in a soothing voice, "Just hear them out."

"I don't care about their reasons!" Barry shouted, his weak voice cracking under the strain, "I don't care if it kills me! I just want it out of me!"

Tears were rolling down Barry's face as he began to plead with them.

"Please," he sobbed, "Please, just do the surgery. Get it out of me! I can't stand to have it in me a second longer!"

"Barry, please calm down," Caitlin urged, "Your heart—"

"I can't calm down until I get this thing out of my spine," Barry choked, "I need it out. Now!"

"Son," Henry whispered, "Your body can't handle your powers right now. You—"

"This isn't about my powers," Barry gritted, "I don't care about my powers. I don't care if I ever get them back. I just want this disgusting device out of me. I want to be free of it."

A small sob escaped Barry's lips as he looked down at the bed.

"I want to be free," he whispered brokenly.

Their hearts all clenched when they finally understood what Barry was saying. His powers didn't matter to him. He just wanted to put everything to do with the MRA behind him. He wanted to move on.

"You are free, Bar," Joe assured him, "You're free."

Barry shook his head without looking at him, his bottom lip trembling. He didn't say anything, though. He just stared down at the sheets covering his legs. Oliver had never seen Barry like this. This defeated.

This broken.

Before, it had seemed like if they just took down Price, if they freed the metahumans, everything would be okay. Everything would go back to normal again. None of them accounted for this. The aftermath. Barry was free in the literal sense, but mentally, it would take time for him to fully be free of the MRA and what they had done to him. It would take a long time to heal, and it was something Barry would never fully forget.

He would carry the memories with him for the rest of his life.

"Barry," Oliver whispered, moving towards the bed to lay a hand on Barry's thin arm.

He didn't speak again until Barry looked up at him, watery hazel eyes peering into his own.

"I can't even imagine what you're going through right now," Oliver said softly, rubbing small circles into Barry's wrist with his thumb, "I know it all seems overwhelming at first, but…it will get easier."

Barry didn't say anything. He just stared at Oliver, a faraway look in his eyes. Oliver recognized the look. He had seen it before—in the mirror. When he had returned home from the island, it wasn't as simple as just going back to normal. There was no going back to the life he had before. He had changed.

And the same thing had happened with Barry.

Barry couldn't just put it all behind him, the same way Oliver couldn't put the island behind him.

"I just want to forget," Barry whispered, "I want to get this chip out of me and forget any of this ever happened."

Oliver gave Barry a sympathetic look. Before he could say anything, though, the door to the room opened, Cisco walking in with a solemn look on his face. Oliver didn't think it was possible, but Barry tensed up even more when Cisco entered the room, though Oliver didn't understand why.

"Did you…?" Barry choked, looking at Cisco with watery eyes.

"I saw the list," Cisco said softly, hardly able to look Barry in the eye.

"And?" Barry pressed, leaning forward in bed.

Cisco paused for a moment, opening and closing his mouth a couple times before speaking.

"They weren't on it," he whispered.

Barry stared at Cisco, processing his words. Oliver didn't understand what was happening, but he knew it was bad.

"What list?" Felicity asked before he could.

Oliver barely heard it when Joe leaned in and whispered to her.

"The list of survivors."

Oliver's stomach twisted as he understood then. Barry's unit, the others who had been living in that house with him.

They were dead.

Everyone's eyes turned to Barry then. He was just sitting there, his face blank as he tried to process the news he had just been given. No one said anything, and a few long moments stretched out between them before Barry broke the silence.

"But…" he choked, "It—it could j-just be a mistake. Just b-because they're not on the l-list, it d-doesn't mean…"

"I checked the list of confirmed deceased," Cisco said quietly, tears welling in his eyes, "I…I'm so sorry, Barry."

Barry shook his head, opening and closing his mouth a few times.

"No," he said numbly, "No, she can't…no."

His eyes narrowed then as he looked at Cisco.

"I want to see it," he gritted, "I want to see the list myself."

"Barry…" Iris whispered.

"I want to see it!" Barry yelled, hands balling into fists around the hems of his bedsheets, "Let me see the damn list!"

They all looked at each other for a moment before Cisco sighed and pulled out his phone.

"Here," he whispered, holding his phone out to Barry.

Barry took it with shaky hands, his eyes quickly scanning over the list of deceased. They all saw the exact moment when he came across the name he was looking for.

Barry didn't cry. He didn't do anything. He simply stared at the phone, a numb expression on his face.

"Bar…" Joe said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Barry didn't respond. He just stared at the list, his face expressionless.

"Barry…"

"Give me a moment," Barry whispered, the words hardly audible as they left his lips, "Just…give me a minute alone. Please."

They all looked at each other, not sure what to do. They didn't want to leave Barry alone. He had just found out two close friends of his had died. He shouldn't be alone right now.

"Barry," Caitlin choked.

He looked up at her, his eyes blank.

"Barry, I'm so sorry," she cried, wiping a few tears from her eyes.

Barry looked back down at the phone again, and this time, tears formed in his eyes, quickly spilling over and rolling silently down his face.

"Just give me a moment," he whispered.

They all hesitated for a moment before finally nodding and silently leaving the room, closing the door behind them. It felt so wrong, leaving Barry alone right now. He needed to be comforted. He needed to be surrounded by people he loved. It was hard to comfort him, though, when they had never even met the people he was grieving, when they could never fully understand what Barry was feeling.

"He was in love with her."

Everyone pulled out of their own thoughts to look at Caitlin, who had spoken.

"What?" Joe asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

"One of the women," Caitlin whispered, "Elizabeth Waldeck. Barry was…he was in love with her."

They all stared at Caitlin, not knowing how to process what she was telling them.

"How do you know?" Iris asked softly after a moment.

Caitlin shook her head and wiped a few tears from her eyes.

"I saw him," she sighed, "During the medical exam. Barry wouldn't leave her side. He asked me to save her, her specifically. And when they were separated…"

Caitlin sniffed and wiped her eyes again.

"He said he loved her."

Everyone looked down at the floor, their stomachs twisting as they processed her words.

"He said they were family to him," Iris whispered.

She hadn't fully understood what Barry meant when he had said that. He had only known them for a few months, after all. It made sense now, though. They had all been through a terrible experience together. They had a unique connection that no one could ever fully understand.

"We should bring the kid here," Joe said after a long moment, "Adam. He's still alive. Maybe seeing him will help…"

They all nodded in understanding. Maybe seeing the only other survivor from Barry's unit would help him.

"He's out of the hospital now," Felicity told them, "He's recovering at home with his family. I could try to get a hold of him."

Everyone nodded. They all wanted to help Barry any way they could, but Barry needed more than just them right now. He needed someone who understood.

"I already tried to contact him earlier this week, though," Felicity sighed, "It's not going to be easy. The press has been pestering him for his part in taking down Price. His family isn't accepting any calls."

"Well, if anyone can get a hold of him, it's you," Oliver said confidently, "See if you can get him to come here."

"I'll try my best," Felicity sighed.

She and Oliver left soon after that. They didn't really want to leave, but Barry had enough to process at the moment. He was overwhelmed enough without having two more people hovering over him, trying to get through to him. Oliver knew better. They couldn't get through to Barry right now, as much as they wanted to. Smothering him wasn't going to help.

Only time would.

"I still don't think this is a good idea," Joe fretted, "He's only been awake for three days. It's too soon for this."

"Honestly, I think we should have done this on the first day," Caitlin sighed, "Barry should have been talking to a professional right from the start."

"No," Joe shook his head, "You don't know Barry like I do. He's seen therapists before, and it never turned out well. He just doesn't respond to them."

"This is different," Henry countered, "This isn't about what happened to his mother. Barry needs to talk to somebody, and he's not talking to us, so it won't hurt to try."

They all lingered outside Barry's room, waiting on pins and needles. The hospital therapist had only been in there for ten minutes, but it felt like an eternity. They had wondered if maybe one of them should have stayed in the room for Barry's first therapy session, but the psychiatrist had insisted on a one-on-one session. Barry had been reluctant about the entire thing as a whole. He had no interest in talking to anybody about what he had been through, let alone a stranger.

They didn't have to pay for the therapist. All physical and emotional therapy was covered by the Red Cross and the Metacide Relief Foundation. The entire country had been sending funds to the state of Ohio to support victims and their families in the aftermath of Price's reign. Barry wasn't very interested in utilizing the staff psychiatrists, though.

Less than fifteen minutes passed before the door to Barry's room opened, the therapist walking out with an exhausted look on his face. They all gave him worried looks as he softly closed the door behind him, joining them in the hallway.

The doctor shook his head.

"I didn't get him to say much," he sighed, "He kicked me out."

Everyone let out a heavy sigh at these words.

"Did he say anything?" Iris asked desperately.

"I'm not able to discuss much with you," the therapist said tiredly, "I'll stop in later and try again, but I don't recommend pushing him. I've met with a lot of victims, and everyone seems to be coping differently. Some talk to me; some don't. When he's healthy enough, group therapy might be beneficial for him. Talking with people who have been through similar experiences is sometimes more effective than these one-on-one sessions. Several metahuman support groups have already been formed over the last couple weeks. I highly recommend them."

He handed Joe a pamphlet listing all the available support groups for metahumans, before passing out several different pamphlets to all of them.

"These are for you," he said to them, "Just some literature for you to read. They might help you understand what he's going through, so you can help him cope. It's going to take a long time for him to recover—much longer mentally than physically—and he's going to need all the support he can get."

They all looked through the pamphlets he had handed them. Most of them were about grief support, PTSD, and survivor's guilt. The pamphlets were somewhat generic, but a few of them had been published for metacide victims specifically.

"Thank you," Cisco said softly after a moment, "Thank you for trying to help him."

The doctor nodded, a sad expression on his face.

"He's a hero," he said simply, "He's done so much for this city, helped so many people, and if he'll let me, I'm going to do everything in my power to help him."

With that, the psychiatrist walked away, leaving them standing there, deep in thought.

"I'm going to try to talk to him," Iris decided after a moment.

They all stared at her.

"We've been smothering him," she explained, "Overwhelming him. Maybe if just one of us tries to talk to him instead of crowding him, he'll feel less singled out. He'll open up."

Her father nodded thoughtfully and ran a hand over his face.

"We'll go get some coffee," he sighed.

They all nodded their agreement.

"Good luck," Henry said to Iris as they reluctantly retreated down the hallway.

After they had disappeared around the corner, Iris turned back towards the door to Barry's room. Taking a deep breath, she turned the handle and opened the door.

She was instantly alarmed when she entered the room.

"Barry!" she shouted, rushing over to him.

Barry wasn't in his bed. He had disconnected his heart monitor and climbed out of bed, rolling his IV stand along with him.

"You shouldn't be out of bed!" she fretted, grabbing his arm.

Barry absently pulled his hand out her grasp, ignoring her. He wasn't even looking at her; he was looking out the window.

"What's going on?" he whispered.

Iris's stomach clenched when she looked out the window, at the crowds down below, brandishing "Long Live Barry Allen" signs and Flash insignias. This was exactly what they had been trying to prevent. They had even had the TV taken out of Barry's room so he wouldn't see the news. There was no lying to him about it now, though.

"Barry, you should lay down," Iris said in a small voice, "You shouldn't be on your feet."

"I was on my feet for fourteen hours a day when I was there," Barry said in a hard voice, "Now, are you going to tell me what's going on?"

Iris flinched at the harshness of his words. She didn't know what to tell him. Barry was standing in his hospital gown, waiting for an answer with a hard look on his face.

"We didn't want you to find out this way," she said softly, "I'm so sorry, Barry."

"Sorry for what?" Barry demanded, looking back out the window in confusion.

"They know," Iris said quietly, "They know everything."

Barry stared at her, letting her words sink in.

"They know?" he whispered, "They know I'm…?"

"They know you're the Flash," she admitted, "They know everything you did for the Resistance…about the hacking and the virus…everything."

Barry sucked in a strained breath and leaned up against the window sill, a dazed look on his face.

"Barry," she choked, grabbing his arm to steady him.

"They know," he gasped, "They know everything."

"I'm so sorry, Barry," she choked, tears forming in her eyes, "I know this is a lot to process, but we're going to get through this."

"They know who I am," he breathed, "They know I'm the Flash…that I'm responsible for all of this."

"No, Barry," she said firmly, giving his thin wrist a small squeeze, "You're not responsible for any of this. You're the one who stopped it. You're a hero. They see you as a hero, Barry."

Barry shook his head, and a small sob escaped his list.

"It's never going to end," he sobbed, "They know. My life…it'll never go back to normal. Things will never go back to normal."

Iris opened and closed her mouth a couple times, not knowing what to say. He was right. He would never get his life back—not the way it was before. He would always be in the spotlight now. He would never be just Barry Allen.

"Barry," Iris said after a moment, "You're safe. You're alive. We're all together now. That's what's important. The rest of it doesn't matter."

Barry sucked in a deep breath and nodded quickly.

"Yeah," he gasped, "You're right. I know. It's just…"

"I know," she said sadly, "But it's all going to be okay. We'll get through this."

With that, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Barry didn't respond right away, but after a moment, he slowly wrapped his arms around her, hugging her back.

She didn't know what else to do. Barry had lost so much because of Price, and now he had just lost one more thing. His life would never be the same again. There was nothing she could think to say to comfort him right now.

So she just stood there and hugged him.

Barry hardly heard what any of them were saying as he laid in bed, letting his father take his vitals. They were all discussing the best way to get him past the crowds waiting outside the hospital. There really was no way around it. Barry had been both looking forward to this day and also dreading it. After two weeks in the hospital, he was finally being discharged—and he couldn't be happier about that—but it meant he would have to face the crowds. There were going to be cameras and reporters. The public would be seeing him for the first time since he had been rescued.

He didn't really care what they thought about him. He didn't care what the media reported about him. He just wanted to go home. He didn't want to deal with any of this.

"Barry, did you hear me?" Felicity asked.

Barry snapped out of his daze and looked at her.

"What?"

"I said you shouldn't say anything to the reporters," Felicity repeated patiently, "We're just going to get to the car as fast as possible. Don't answer the media's questions. We're all going to surround you and shield you from the crowd, but it's going to be overwhelming. You just need to stay calm."

Barry nodded and looked away again.

"Right," he mumbled.

"Barry, are you sure you can handle this?" Caitlin asked worriedly, "Is it going to be too much for you?"

Barry shook his head.

"I'm fine," he sighed, "I just want to go home."

They all nodded but continued to give him worried looks.

"Maybe I should contact Singh and arrange for more security," Joe said thoughtfully, "He sent us five officers, but maybe more wouldn't be a bad idea."

Barry didn't even listen when Oliver replied to him. He tuned out again, glancing toward the window as their conversation continued. He hardly paid any attention as his father wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his arm.

He felt nervous.

He didn't even know why. It wasn't so much the crowds; it was everything. He was about to go home. He had been taken by the MRA over five months ago, and he was finally going home. He should be happy. He should be relieved. He was happy, but he was also nervous. He wasn't the same man. He wasn't the same Barry Allen who had been taken five months ago. That's why he was scared.

What if going home didn't change anything?

For five months, all he could think about was going home. For five months, going home meant going back to normal. Home was safe. Home was the answer to everything. He knew now that going home wouldn't magically make everything okay again. It wouldn't be like hitting a reset button.

Too much had happened. Too many people had died.

Barry's stomach twisted slightly when he realized that everyone who had died, everyone he had lost, were people he had met in the zone. None of them were from his life before. His loved ones were all safe: Joe, Iris, Wally, his dad, Caitlin, Cisco. They were all safe.

But his other family…

Only two of the six of them had lived. He and Adam, they were the survivors. Barry had promised to himself that he was going to keep them all alive. It was an impossible promise. Barry knew that now. He knew that he had done everything he could. There was nothing more he could have done to save his family in the zone.

So why did he still feel so guilty? Why did he feel responsible?

Because he was. He had failed to stop this. He had lost the public's faith. He had allowed Price to rise to power. He had let them put those cuffs on him that day at the CCPD. He had fallen victim to the MRA like everyone else.

And yet, he had survived.

Why him? Why him of all people? Less than three percent had survived, and what were the odds that he was one of them?

It was the one promise he had kept.

He had promised his family he would stay alive for them, and he had kept that promise.

And now he felt guilty for it. He didn't know why he felt guilty. He was alive. He shouldn't be sad about that. He wasn't suicidal. He didn't want to die, so why did he feel bad about the fact he was alive?

Because he shouldn't be.

He should be dead. He had been selected for the lab, yet he survived the virus. He had been executed and thrown into the pit, yet he had been revived. He shouldn't be alive right now, but he was. He was alive, and thousands of other people were dead. He had been lucky. He had survived by pure chance, and now people were calling him a hero…

"Barry?"

Barry looked up at Iris, his stomach churning.

"Barry, are you okay?" Caitlin asked, "You look like you're going to—"

Barry just managed to grab the bedside emesis basin in time to throw up.

"Are you alright?" his dad asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Barry nodded, his eyes watering as his stomach continued to churn.

"I'm okay," he assured them, "Just ate too much."

It wasn't the first time Barry had thrown up in the hospital. He was still having trouble with solid foods. It had only been a few days since they had weaned him off his liquid meals and reintroduced solid food. He had been throwing up at least once almost every day.

"Your stomach is still adjusting," Caitlin said, patting his arm, "It'll get better with time."

Barry nodded and wiped his mouth, allowing her to accept the excuse. It wasn't the first time he had used it. Barry knew full well that most of the time when he threw up, it was from psychological causes, not physical. They didn't need to know that, though.

"Maybe we should wait," Joe said worriedly, "If he's feeling sick, we should wait to brave the crowds."

"No," Barry insisted, "No, I don't want to wait. I feel fine. My stomach is empty now."

"So you should eat something," Caitlin said seriously, "You need your energy, Barry. I don't want you getting dizzy from lack of food."

"I'll be fine," Barry assured her, "Just let me go home."

"Barry, you really shouldn't go home on an empty stomach," she persisted, "Going without food isn't—"

"I'm used to it!" Barry snapped.

They all winched slightly at his harsh tone. Barry's stomach twisted more at seeing the hurt looks on their faces.

"I'm sorry," he said instantly, regretting his outburst, "I'm sorry, I just really want to go home."

They all nodded, sad expressions occupying their faces. Barry's hands clenched into fists. He couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand the pitying looks they were always giving him, and it took everything he had not to snap at them again.

"Okay, Barry," Caitlin said gently, "I'm going to go fill out your discharge forms, okay?"

Barry nodded and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He wasn't trying to snap at them all the time. He was trying really hard not to be angry. It was hard, though.

Barry was angry.

Not at his family. He held nothing but love and gratitude for them. He was angry at everyone else: Clinton Price, the MRA, the crowds standing outside, supporting him, when a few months ago they had been voting for the man who did all of this. A few months ago, they had been pointing at him on the subway, calling him dirty names because of the freak stamp on his wrist.

And now they loved him.

They had turned their back on him, on the Flash, on every metahuman in the zone. They had hated him. And now they were calling him a hero. Barry knew he shouldn't be angry with them. They were victims of a corrupt media and of sociopolitical manipulation conducted by a man who had the physical ability to control minds. Central City never stood a chance. The only person who could have stopped this was him, and he had failed.

Deep down, Barry knew they weren't the ones he was really mad at.

Barry hardly paid any attention as he was being disconnected from his IV and the machines. He didn't even allow himself to be upset by the way they all stared at his ribs while he was getting dressed. He did everything mechanically, allowing his mind to go blank. It was easier than thinking. Going numb was the only thing that helped.

Walking through the hospital only increased the fog building in his mind. He allowed the twisting white walls to dull his brain, grounded only by his dad's hand on his arm as they walked. Before he knew it, Barry was blinking against the bright light of the sun as they stepped outside. A tumult of noise assaulted his ears as they left the building and quickly found themselves surrounded by hundreds of people crushing in on them from all sides.

"Mr. Allen! Mr. Allen! Do you have anything you want to say to the public?!"

"Barry! Barry Allen! Look this way!"

"You're our hero! We love you, Flash!"

"Flash! Hey, Flash! Do you have time for a quick interview?!"

Cameras flashed from all directions, disorienting him. Barry vaguely registered Joe shouting back at the reporters.

"No comment! Out of the way! No comment!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Barry could see officers from the CCPD walking alongside him, pushing people back. He recognized most of them. They were his coworkers, after all. Singh had sent only the best officers there to keep the crowds at bay for Barry. Even with the officers there, though, people still managed to get close. Bodies pressed in on him from all sides, surrounding him—engulfing him. For a moment, just a moment, Barry was in that truck again, Lucy in his arms, Elizabeth's hand in his.

He wasn't in the truck, though. He just had to keep telling himself that. He wasn't in the truck. He was just trying to get to the car—the car that would take him home. It was Joe's hand in his, guiding him through the crowds, periodically looking at him to make sure he was doing okay. Barry could handle this, though. After everything he had been through, he could handle a crowd of reporters. He could handle anything.

"Barry! What are your thoughts on the upcoming Price trial?!"

"Mr. Allen! Have you met with the Evans family yet?! Have you met Lucy's parents?!"

"Flash! Do you have your powers back?! Are you still going to protect Central City?! Flash!"

Barry closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing as they walked through the crowds. When he reopened them, the world went silent. He could see everyone, surrounding him, shouting questions and shoving microphones in his face. He didn't hear anything, though. It was as if he had suddenly gone deaf, the world becoming soundless as he numbly allowed others to lead him through the sea of faceless bodies.

"Barry, are you okay?"

Barry blinked and looked around him. They were in the car. He didn't even register making it to the car. He didn't even notice when sound returned to him without the shouting and pestering of reporters. It was quiet now. The car was moving and someone had even put his seatbelt on for him. Barry hadn't noticed any of it.

"Barry," Joe said again, "Are you alright?"

Barry nodded and swallowed back the dryness in his throat.

"I'm fine," he whispered.

Joe's hand was still in his, giving it a small squeeze.

"We're going home now, Bar," he said softly.

Barry swallowed and looked out the window. They were nearing the edge of the city. Soon, they would be out of Keystone and on their way back to Central City, the city he had once loved so much. He wasn't sure how he felt about it now. The city was his home.

But it was also his prison.

The place he had been unable to leave because of the microchip in his neck. It was where he had been born. And it was where he had been afraid to walk down the street without running into metahunters. It was the city he had spent two years risking his life to protect.

And it was the city that had turned its back on him.

As they finally made it out of Keystone, Barry continued to look out the window, at the cornfields and rolling hills that stretched as far as he could see. The contrast with the city was dizzying. The openness of it made his heart clench with pure joy and overwhelming sorrow, all at the same time.

He was free.

He didn't know what was going to happen now. He didn't know what to expect when he returned to Central City—when he returned home—but it didn't matter. He was free.

Barry wanted more than anything to forget, to put this all behind him and pretend like it never even happened. He couldn't do that, though. To forget everything would be to forget the people he had lost. Forgetting would be like acting like they never existed, like their lives didn't matter. To forget would be to dishonor them. Barry and the other survivors couldn't forget because if they allowed themselves to, then the rest of the world would forget, would dismiss this ugly example of humanity like it never even happened.

Forgetting would be a gross crime—an insult to humanity as a whole. The world had spent enough time turning a blind eye to cruelty and malice. History had spent enough time trying to forget the uglier sides to humanity. This would no different. The metacide would be in history books for decades to follow, but would it be remembered? Would the victims be honored? Would people learn from it?

Or would they forget?

Barry didn't know what was going to happen. He didn't even know what would happen when he returned to the city. But he knew one thing.

He would never forget.

Sonder

As promised from the start, a bittersweet ending.

I realize there is so much more to be addressed now that this story is over. Really, I didn't want to cram everything in one final chapter because then I would be rushing through it without giving everything the attention it needs. For that reason, I've decided to write a separate epilogue for this story. The epilogue will have multiple chapters and will pretty much be a story in itself.

I won't be posting it right away, but be sure to keep an eye open for it on my profile. I haven't been able to write much lately. Between school, my new job, and radio broadcasting I haven't had much time. We've been casting for a new show I'm working on, and filming for it starts next week, so I'll be even busier. I haven't even begun writing the epilogue yet and will probably want to focus on other stories for a while before I post the first chapter.

Thank you so much for reading this story to the end. I know I lost a lot of readers along the way—not that I blame them—but the support I've gotten for this story means the world to me. Prejudice has become more than a story to me, and I can't tell you how happy I was to share it with all of you.

Kayla Weyker