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^hello everyone, its been a while!
sorry i dropped off the planet and left this story in my mind's attic for three years. i can't believe its been that long!
i started this story years ago. since then a lot has happened to me and to this story. what has been a constant is my love of Barry Allen and the fact that this story has always been a backboard for me to bounce writing ideas from.
now, years after starting 'Crimson', i'm ready to give this story the ending it deserves. thank you all for being so supportive and encouraging and patient, i appreciate each and every one of you. it means a lot to me as a wannabe writer to have you take the time to read and comment on this story.
well, welcome to the end. i'll let you all get to reading, i think you'll find this chapter is a little different from the rest.
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It ended where it began.
At the train station. Except this time there was no Oliver or Felicity. No Thea, no Diggle, no Roy. There was no Barry, her Barry. Just like in the beginning, there was no one.
Her fingertips tapped on the handle of her suitcase, the wheels screeching. The sound bounced off the pillars, echoing off the tracks until it exploded in her ears. The only sound that was louder was the erratic beating of her heart. A-lone, a-lone, a-lone. That's what every beat said, a constant reminder.
She was alone. She tried to sink a little further into Barry's sweatshirt. She could still remember him pulling it over her head. Right before he had sobbed into her shoulder. A chill ran down her spine, not one of the fiery ones that Barry's lips could easily chase down her body, but a cold, slimy shock of electricity that coursed through her veins.
She hadn't known how to comfort him at first. It had bothered her throughout the night, especially as Barry held her tight to him. Even when she managed to disentangle herself from his grasp. Long after she had tugged on her shoes and her hands had enclosed the handle of her suitcase. As she caught a glimpse of Felicity and Oliver in a corner, curled up and asleep. Far past into the night as her tired legs moved with a mind of their own. Toes in the direction of the train station. She recognized the bench near the tracks, one that she had passed on her way into Central City. Right before she first saw Barry. She paused. Completely alone in an abandoned train station. Then she sat down.
At some point in the night, it had hit her. Sometime in between the constant replays of Barry sobbing into her shoulder. They were never going to win. She should have accepted it in the beginning. Especially after all the warning signs. Her complete disregard for safety or rules or anything that meant she could live. Her recklessness and endangerment. Her fighting off bad guys, not with powers or discipline, but with repressed rage and unflinching grief. Her, unable to comfort her- whatever Barry was. Simply her.
