The Flash #34: "Welcome Back, Barry."

An attack from the embittered Reverse Flash killed many hundreds of people in Keystone and Central City, including the Flash’s own father, and resulted in Barry himself having his identity revealed to the world. After a tense showdown in the 23rd century, the Reverse Flash was stopped-- at a terrible price. Barry and Iris’ newborn daughter Carrie was lost in the far future, where she grew up and lived happily-- but without her parents. The bereaved parents have returned to the present day-- but a month after they left. And in that month, the Flashes have been blamed for the tragedy, the bitter Gregory Wolfe, sworn enemy of Barry, has been elected Governor of the state of Kansas, new foes have come to the Twin Cities-- and the scars on the members of the Flash family themselves may be the deepest wounds of all…

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It’s early-- it can’t be after six thirty, surely-- and I’m the only one awake in the house. The house-- not mine. My house, as I was told last night, was apparently blown up in the chaos that swept my cities a month ago. Since then, my child Bart-- one of my children, I tell myself-- has been looked after by Jay and Joan Garrick. Jay was the first Flash, and since I’ve known them, they’ve both been as good as parents to me. When we thought Jay was dead after the Apokolips invasion, it felt as if I’d lost a father. After Eobard Thawne attacked my family, there was no ‘as if’ about it.

I shake those thoughts away. Jay and Joan have been good-- they’ve said Iris and I can use their guest room as long as we need to, but we’ve agreed to try and find a new house as soon as possible. To try to put our lives back together. But while we’re here, we won’t be a burden on them. Enough-- I’m clearly not getting to sleep again this morning. I get up, making sure not to disturb Iris, slip on my dressing gown, and head downstairs. I don’t turn on any lights-- I don’t want to risk waking anyone, and the bin catches my eye as I walk past it. It’s Wednesday-- trash day, but with everything else going on, Jay must have forgotten. I jangle the keys in the lock and head out front, thinking that at least I can make myself useful and bring out the trash…

…and then I’m momentarily blinded by a thousand-- excuse the pun-- flashes of light, and a hundred questions being shouted from all sides. Oh. Right.

My name is Barry Allen. And as known by just about everyone on the face of the planet now, I’m the Flash-- The Fastest Man Alive.



Breakfast this morning is a quiet affair. Joan and Jay didn’t know what to say when they heard about Carrie. I’m not sure Iris knows what to think either-- I’m not sure I do. We gave her a happy ending, we know she’ll live a good life, with a man who loves her. But... it won’t be her life. Not Carrie Allien’s life. Not our daughter’s. And maybe it’s selfish, but that hurts, a deep, aching pain that I half-know won’t ever go away. After a pause, Joan starts talking.

“Wally’ll be coming to the house this afternoon,” she tells me as she collects my half-eaten plate of toast. “We called him last night... it’ll be tight, with everyone in the house, but we can manage, and it’s been hard on him to be stuck up there with the Titans all these weeks, even if they are his friends.” She doesn’t add that she hopes it to be temporary, of course not, she’s far too kind for that; she knows that it could be some time before Iris and I can find a new home. Wally. Jay and I share a glance-- he warned me last night that Wally was “Not different, exactly but.... not the same.” Not after what happened last month. When Thawne attacked my cities. Because of me... Which reminds me...

“I saw the Rogues there, that night,” I say. Joan and Jay share a look they hope I won’t notice; I know they don’t want us to talk about ‘that night’. It was just yesterday for me... “What happened to them?”

“Well...” Jay sighs. “The New Rogues were all locked up in Iron Heights again-- it has a new warden now, name of Kenyon. Word is, they’ve cracked down on security, but I wouldn’t trust the man in the slightest. The Old Rogues are still out there... and then there’s what happened to the Piper,” he shakes his head disparagingly, but I freeze. The... Piper? Harley? Suddenly, I’m gripping the table so tightly my knuckles are white.

“...What? Harley? What happened to him?” I ask, gazing intensely at him. Joan looks in between us, uncertain, and Jay’s face is grim, but also a little doubtful.

“Harley Rathaway? The Pied Piper? They found his body in an alleyway some weeks back. Cut, burnt, frozen... it wasn’t pretty. The Rogues, no doubt about it, though I can’t for the life of me figure out why. Barry...” He sees my face fall, as my heart skips a beat, and steps forward. “I know he wasn’t as bad as the others, and he was young, but....”

“You don’t understand, Jay,” I snap. Harley Rathaway. Harley Rathaway. God. Another name to add to dad and yes, even Carrie, in that list I carry in my heart. Another person dead because of me. I look up-- he doesn’t understand, I never told him. “Harley was undercover, Jay,” I tell him, my voice croaking, hoarse. “He was one of us. He was working with the police, reporting on the Rogues, keeping their crimes limited. If... if the Rogues helped, that night... it was because he brought them there.” I leave the final part unsaid-- they must have found out. And then....

Another person dead because of me.

Harley... I wish I could give you the ending I gave my daughter. I wish...

“Are you going to make a statement? About being... you?” Iris asks, trying to take my mind away. It takes me a moment to get what she means, before I remember the vultures surrounding the house, then I shake my head.

“No,” I tell her decisively. “I don’t care what they think; my private life is off-limits. If I talk, I’ll talk as the Flash, but I don’t want to do that until I know everything that’s happened while I’ve been aware. And I want to meet this ‘Wolfe’ too...”

“You don’t,” Iris snorts, shaking her head as she wipes her hands on a napkin. “Believe me, Barry.... you really don’t.”



I don’t know what I expected, really. It was probably unfair. I mean, Jay warned me about Wally, like I said, but that doesn’t stop the shock I feel when he arrives back in the house. His arrival is unannounced-- the Titans must have flown him in and dropped him off quickly to escape the sea of paparazzi besieging the place. He’s limping, I notice straight away as he steps in the door, even though he tries to hide it. But he can’t hide the bruises on his face, or the tenderness with which he carries himself. But it’s none of that which is the most shocking, no; It’s his face. It’s the hardness in it, the sharpness of his eyes, that world-weary look that I see in the JSA, or in Batman, that wasn’t there last time I saw him; when he looked at me with that shining eagerness and promised to protect the cities while I was waiting for… for Carrie’s birth.

It’s only been a month, and Wally’s grown up.

“Hi,” He says, with a smile that isn’t a smile, despite his best efforts. “It’s… I can’t tell you how good it is to see you again, Uncle Barry.” There’s no bounciness, no eagerness in his tone. There’s genuine warmth, sure, but not that of a child-- more like… a peer. A friend. And those green eyes are still far too serious. And for some reason, calling me ‘uncle’ feels somehow ridiculous, silly. I have an urge to embrace him, to tell him how sorry I am for what happened to him because of me, but something holds me back-- and I notice that Iris, who would normally be all over him, is holding back too.

“We’re so sorry, Wally,” she says, stepping forwards, her hand on her mouth. “For everything that happened to you, for not being there, we’re so sorry…” And then she does draw him into an embrace, and he leans into it, just a little awkwardly-- because of his injuries, or because of something else.

“Yeah,” he says over her shoulder. “I know.”



“Keystone Police to double in size within two years,” Captain Boomerang rolled his eyes as he scanned the Keystone Mail. “Right, yeah, that’ll make a difference... lessee, harsher sentences to be imposed... up to a multi-year extension of prison terms... work to stamp out super-crime by the end of the first term...” He shook his head, tossing the paper on the ground. “Who gives a ****?”

“We should,” answered Captain Cold seriously, sitting forward. “Did you ever meet Wolfe? In the joint?” Mirror Master snickered-- he was notorious for the fact that though he had been defeated many times, he had never once been caught and locked away for good. His Mirror Gun made him too slippery for that.

“I did,” grunted Heatwave at last, shaking his head. “Only for a minute, but... black as soot, that one. An’ I don’t mean his skin.” He raised a hand to touch his temple, rubbing it. “When I was hauled in, he had his goons beat the **** out of me. Then said ‘Welcome to Iron Heights’. I owe the bastard for that one.”

“So who the hell cares?” Captain Boomerang argued again. “We’ve never given a damn who was the governor of Kansas before, why should we now?”

“Because this is a governor with a grudge. He knows us, and he don’t like us,” spat Captain Cold darkly, eyes hidden behind his tinted glasses. “And we ain’t big fans of him either. Throw in this ‘Candyman’ and all the drugs and mob thugs who’ve been showin’ up tryin’ to muscle in on our territory, and we got ourselves a whole new ballgame from be--”

“Cold!” snapped Weather Wizard, and the others turned at the urgency in his voice. He was staring at the television, which showed a house that had barely been off-air in the last month, and a somewhat confused looking man carrying a garbage bag out the front. And at the bottom-- Cold knew what the headline would be before he saw it. “I think you gotta see this...” Mardon finished. And against his will, Cold felt the smallest of smiles creep onto his face.

“Okay. He’s back. No surprise.” Cold sat forward in his chair, deep in thought. “Guess the ballgame changes again.”



When I do leave the house in the end, it’s not to talk to the press. It’s not even to stay in the cities. First, a drop in to Johnny’s house, where Max is still saying. I tell them everything, I have to face another round of condolences over dad, over Carrie... I have to thank them for everything they’ve done covering the cities while I was gone. Then a trip to the League, to repeat the process. Both times, it’s painful to talk about Dad, and more painful to talk about Carrie. Both times I wish I didn’t have to do it-- I know they’re being kind, but I... God, I wish I could get it over with.

And yet I’d rather do that a thousand times than face what I have to right now, as I walk up a side street in a small town named Fallville. Iris shoots me a look of concern as I tense up instinctively upon seeing our destination. She’s holding my hand tightly, and squeezes it reassuringly. I try to crack a smile, but it’s not coming. I don’t know what I feel right now-- guilt, certainly. A big part of me didn’t want to come here today. I should have been here when she needed me. I should have been able to stop this from happening in the first place. And I failed, on all counts. I know I did-- and now it’s been plastered all over every television screen there is.

We walk up the familiar path through the front garden-- quite a big garden, because he… he always liked to take care of it. I can’t even remember a time when he wasn’t keeping that silly little rock garden. Or a time when she wasn’t making fun of it. I stop for a moment, just looking at it, and Iris lets me. I shake my head-- no, I need to do this. I have to. She tactfully falls behind, letting me deal with this. I’m grateful that she understands, though a vague part of me is annoyed. I don’t want to face this, I don’t. I reach up with another deep breath and ring the doorbell.

She opens the door in just an instant, and her face freezes when she sees me.

“Mom,” I croak, and my voice is hoarse and dry.

“They said it but I didn’t, I couldn’t believe it….” She whispers, and suddenly she throws herself forwards and embraces me, and I lean down into it, wrapping my arms around her. “I knew… thank you, God... thank you… my son… my grown-up son…” And she’s crying, and I know there are tears in my eyes, and I can barely hold them back-- and then I stop even trying. “I thought….” She whispers, her body heaving. “I thought I’d lost you too… I thought you’d left me alone….”

“I’m here, mom,” I tell her, as reassuringly as I can, and I swallow hard. “I’m here… I won’t leave you… I’m here.”



“Barry doesn’t know you’re here?” Max Mercury asked the instant Jay appeared inside Johnny Quick’s sitting room.

“He’s gone to see his mother, poor woman. To explain everything... well, as much as he can explain. I imagine that the press will be at her door soon enough now that he’s back; they won’t leave even a widow alone.” He shook his head morosely. “Too many good journalists like Iris have had to go, too many vultures taking their place.”

“Well,” Johnny cut across him. “We didn’t come here to talk about the press, did we? Let’s get right down to it. It’s a shame we have to talk about this without Barry, but....”

“He wouldn’t do it,” Max shook his head. “You could see it in his eyes when his name came up. After what happened with Iris, Barry would never consider working with him. And I doubt he’d consider working with Barry either.” He sighed and shook his head stiffly. “I don’t know, I’m just not as gung ho as you two when it comes to this either...”

“I don’t like going behind his back like this,” Agreed Jay. “But he’s in charge now, Max, and we have to do what we can to protect people.” He spread his hands and looked at his old friends. “Let’s get in touch with the new Governor of Kansas.”



Jesse Chambers hesitated for just an instant as she raised her hand to knock on her father’s door. The blur of light she had seen had probably just been Barry-- she had heard he was back-- or Jay or even her father himself, but she wanted to be ready just in case...

“Jesse,” came a hiss, and she nearly leapt out of her skin, shunting into speed mode. The erstwhile Cyclone looked from side to side, but she couldn’t... “Here, it’s me,” Wally West stepped out from the side of the house, hands raised to show he meant no harm, and Jesse immediately felt foolish for her paranoia.

“Hi, Wally,” she greeted him. “Are you here with Barry or...?”

“Jay’s inside, but he doesn’t know I’m here,” Wally responded. Jesse frowned-- there was a look in his eye she wasn’t used to seeing, a seriousness-- a harshness almost, that wasn’t... “I wanted to talk to you, Jesse, because you’re one of the only ones who I thought might understand.”

“What is it you want to talk about?” She asked, more confused than ever-- they had never been particularly close, so why did Wally want to talk to her? And what could he possibly...

“Well...” He said slowly. “It’s about the guys my uncle fights.... how much do you know about... the Rogues?”



All was quiet in Iron Heights. The authorities were taking no chances this time; the prison’s maximum security pipeline had been sealed tighter than anything this side of Guantanamo Bay. Treble-reinforced walls, full voiceprint and passcode activation required and-- significantly-- motion sensors that would seal off entire sections of the building and riddle them with low intensity stun blasts if anything with super speed was detected within. There would not be a breakout under the prison’s new warden.

But none of that mattered to the hugely-built figure who strode easily down the pipeline, two men following closely-- one sallow-faced, eyes shielded behind dark glasses, the other broad-chested and muscled, alert for any sign of trouble. At a wave of the leader’s hand, a shaking security guard turned and muttered the passcode into one cell, then printed his hand, and finally moved aside to allow the men in.

“Bro?” The sound did not appear to come from any person. The only other form in the room was a dark, gelatinous black blob on the floor, half hidden in the absence of much light. “Hey, bro? Is that you?”

“Hi, Joey.” The massive figure said, his voice deep but deceptively soft. “Yeah, it’s me. I’ve come home.”

“Oh, Jack...” the blob pulled itself together, and resolved into the form of the super-villain Tar Pit, yellow eyes blinking out of the goo. “Man, after all these years, ya finally came to Keystone? You’re settin’ up the organisation down here, right The whole ‘Candyman’ shtick?” A small nod. “Aw, Jack... you came to bail out your little bro? You need the muscle?”

“No,” Jack Montoleone answered simply. “As a matter of fact, I’m hoping to deal in... ah... more solid trade than super-people. The whole idea of capes and gimmicks... I can make use of them when I got to, but it’s a think of the past, Joey. And you’re an antique.” He jerked a head towards the sallow man, who stepped forward, reaching into his jacket and produced a small pistol.

“Wait... Jack, n...” Before Tar Pit could more than burble in disbelief, he was shot once, with a single bullet, none of the other three men blinking an eyelid. “Hey... what? wWhha..whasss...” He tried to react, but as one eye slid out of place, both flickered to look downwards at himself. His mouth widened-- first in fear, then wider, sliding apart as his mass crumpled out of shape, melting into a half-solid mass. “Jaaaaass...whaaasss.....” Jack’s face was completely unmoved as his brother broke down into a pile of liquid goo before his very eyes, his entire face disappearing into the black mess.

“Is he dead?” asked the muscled man, sounding supremely unconcerned.

“No,” The Candyman replied calmly. “But irreparable damage has been done to his brain. He’ll pull himself together eventually, but every trace of me will be wiped from his mind, for good. Took me a long time to find a man who could make a bullet so precise.” The sallow-faced man just smirked and shrugged his shoulders.

“It was no bother,” he grinned. “Just had to target memories associated with specific emotions, mostly, and the chemicals released into the brain from ‘em. He won’t remember anything about anyone he’s ever cared for.”

“That doesn’t concern me,” responded the Candyman, and the three walked into the main pipeline, where the terrified guard slammed the door behind them. Without a word, the boss jerked his head at the guard, and the muscled man calmly shot him. No special bullet this time, just a normal one, straight to the head, and then the sound of a body slamming to the ground. No problem, the new establishment would clear it up quietly and there’d be no sign of it. “We were never here,” he reminded them. “And Vin, you need to meet up with Lisa tomorrow morning. Make sure the day goes as planned.” He paused for just a moment in contemplation, before speaking with new resolve. “Word on the ground is that the Flash is back.” The hint of an ironic smile came to his lips. “It would be very rude if we didn’t introduce ourselves.”



“Sorry, Allen,” Detective Morillo spreads his hands, genuine regret on his face. “I mean, I argued for you... but with pressure from the new governor, Commissioner Fox didn’t have a choice. I shouldn’t even be talking to you, but after everything...” Chyre’s standing to one side, not looking at me, his face as grim as ever.

“No, I get it,” I tell him. Well. That explains, at least, why the Commissioner didn’t tell me himself. Morillo and Chyre were probably the only police who would even talk to me-- plenty of cops died that night too. “I’m guessing I don’t get my police pension?” I remark dryly, and Morillo frowns, shaking his head.

“You pretty much just got fired, Allen. Strictly speaking, I should arrest you right now for even setting foot in Keystone, but the Commissioner’s turning a blind eye. Sorry.” I nod once. It’s not a surprise, of course-- I never thought that I’d have kept my old job, but still... I’ve been a forensic scientist for the KCPD as long as I can remember-- and something tells me that Central won’t take me on either. I turn to go, and Morillo grabs my shoulder. “But hey... for the record, Allen... I’m glad to have been working with the Flash all along. And I’m sorry if I was ever too snappy, or too...” I smile, brushing him off with words of thanks. Truth be told, Morillo and Chyre were always good guys. Now I better go before....

“Allen,” comes a gruff, harsh voice, and I turn back to see Chyre taking a step towards me, expression uncertain. “You remember when we first met? With you in the costume, I mean?” Sure I do-- like it was yesterday. I was still new in the scarlet and the gold, and he was a grizzled cop. Working together, we found out Chyre’s partner-- Mark Mardon, the later Weather Wizard, as it happens-- was less than clean, and we took him down. I nod, and he presses on. “Back then, I told you not to judge us by him. That we weren’t like him. That cops in this city were straight. Well... that was then, and this is now. It ain’t the same city it was a month ago. And with this new governor, the cops aren’t the same either. If you come to Keystone... watch your back.”

I hesitate. “Thanks, Fred,” I say at last, and extend a hand. After an instant, he takes it firmly.

“No problem,” he says, and then after a pause. “...Barry.” Man, this is going to take some getting used to.



“We shoulda told him,” Chyre murmured the second Barry had left. Morillo shook his head resolutely. “No way-- the Chief would have had our heads.”

“I don’t care. He’s a good man. We should have told him.”

“He’ll find out, soon.” Morillo did not look as confident as he sounded, glancing over at the door. “For better, or worse... he’ll find out.”



“Yes, that should do nicely,” Governor Gregory Wolfe said into his cell phone as he stepped into his office at the gubernatorial residence of the state of Kansas. “Yes, all of it, I’m certain. We don’t need Museums to vigilantes in my state. I see. Well, you may tell the curator that he will receive a generous severance package. No, I didn’t say he would, I said to tell him he would. Well, if you can’t see the difference, that’s… yes. Alright then, goodbye.” He let out a heavy sigh, massaging his temple for a moment, and then crossed to his desk, letting his gaze fall upon it...

...and then he paused.

A letter was on it, one he didn’t recall seeing before.

For the attention of Gregory Wolfe, Governor of Kansas

“MARGARET!” he bellowed at the top of his lungs. “What is this?” Without waiting for a response, he picked up the envelope, ripping it open, and glancing at the letter within, scanning down it.

...to request the pleasure of a meeting... earliest possible convenience... discuss important security issues... help that we can be in maintaining order... reclaiming the streets of Keystone... without knowledge of our friend...

Signed--
Mr. Jay Garrick
Mr. John Chambers
Mr. Max Mercury

His semi-permanent frown was replaced, just momentarily, with the smallest of smiles. He ignored his secretary for a moment as she appeared at the door, looking exceedingly harassed.

“Contact the homes of Mister Jay Garrick and Mister Johnny Chambers-- as discreetly as possible if you would, Margaret,” He said quietly, still looking down at the letter. “And then send them both a letter from my office.” Margaret nodded readily.

“Saying...?” she inquired after a long moment. Wolfe looked up, tapping the letter thoughtfully, and then went behind the desk to sit, finally giving his response in a measured tone.

“Thank them for their correspondence, and tell them I would most warmly welcome a meeting at their earliest possible convenience... provided of course that they do not bring their companion, Mister Allen with them. And tell them that their assistance would be most gratefully received on...” He glanced down at a file on his desk, earmarked ‘Candyman’. “...important security issues,” He finished, and his predator’s smile widened.



It’s late at night now, and Jay and Joan and Wally have all gone off to bed, leaving just Iris and I sitting alone in the kitchen. Her hands rest on the table over mine, and neither of us speaks for a very long time.

“You haven’t been out,” She says at last, and I cock my head. What does she... “In costume, I mean,” she clarifies earnestly. “Not since we got back.” I shrug.

“Not much point. The police won’t even give me a transmitter, the way they did with Jay and the others. They say I’m too compromised. I’ve never....” I’m trembling slightly, and I shake my head to clear it. “I’ve never had to deal with this before. Hell, I’ve never even had to deal with people being apathetic before-- since that first day I appeared in costume, everyone’s adored me. Even during the whole crisis with the League and the government, the Twin Cities still had faith in me, but now... now they blame me for everything. And the worst part is, they’re right.” Her response is immediate, face tightening.

“Don’t talk nonsense, Barry. Wolfe is...”

“Wolfe’s an idiot,” I say dismissively, “But he’s not wrong, for once. He has the details wrong, but he’s right to blame me. It’s all my fault...” There’s a pause, and she looks at me, but I can’t meet her gaze, because we both know I’m right.

“Eobard Thawne was insane, Barry.” She says at last. “He went through terrible, terrible things, but that didn’t justify what he did...”

“And he knew that,” I snap, more forcefully than I mean to. “He knew that in the end, and he paid the price for what he did. But me? Oh no. Other people paid the price for my mistakes... My dad. Harley Rathaway. You, Jay, Wally... and... Carrie...”

“Stop it.” She sounds angry now, and she stands, stepping towards me. She grabs my face with both hands, forcing me to meet her eyes. “You’re not Bruce Wayne, God rest him. You can’t take the weight of the world on your shoulders, you can’t spend your life suffering for other people’s crimes out of a misplaced sense of responsibility. Yes, you made a mistake. Atone for it, move on. Do you want to make another? Do you? Because that’s what you’ll be doing if you roll over and let Gregory Wolfe win.” She’s trembling, her gaze intense. “I have met that man, Barry. He’s pure poison.” Yes, she met him. A part of me wonders, deep inside, if we could have avoided this whole thing if she’d only told me about Wolfe’s threat at the time... but I don’t listen to that, I can’t. We all do what we have to. I remember with some disconcertion that I’d lied to her about how serious the threat from Thawne was. We all had our part to play... I think bitterly.

“He was fairly elected,” I remind her, much as it pains me to say it. “The people chose him-- and chose him because he opposed me.”

“So give him a chance,” Iris responds, with a faint smile. “And then the instant, the very second he screws up, you’ll be there.” And in spite of myself, I can’t help smiling a little back.

“To do what?” I ask, cocking my eyebrow, and her smile widens now-- the first real, genuine smile I’ve seen from her in quite a while.

“You’re the Flash. The Fastest Man Alive. You’ll do what you always do.” Her eyes glint and she places both her hands on my shoulders reassuringly, looking into my eyes. “You’ll kick his ass.”



It was the next morning when there was a heavy knock at the door of a high--flying recently rented apartment on Central City’s eastern side. The woman who answered was dressed in her uniform already-- in her case, a tight, short--skirted orange jumpsuit. She leant against the door frame seductively, a feral grin coming to her face.

“Lis...” murmured the caller, a thickly muscled man in a tracksuit with a bag slung over his shoulder. He leant forwards, clearly angling for a kiss, but she raised a single finger tostop him.

“Later, maybe,” she purred. “First-- you ready to move?”

“I got the costume right here,” he nodded, looking somewhat discomfited and raising the bag.

“Good,” she responded crisply, joy in her eyes. “Then you can come in and get changed... I’ll watch.” She giggled at that, a sound simultaneously entrancing and yet somehow repellent. “Then we’ll do the mission. Sound good to you, Vin? Or, sorry....” She placed both hands on his shoulders, running them down his arms. “That should be Chillblaine, right?”

“Wha... whatever you want, Lisa...” He nodded, stepping into the room.

“We’re on the job now, baby,” She chuckled as she closed the door firmly behind him. “It’s Golden Glider. Now let’s go give my dear brother a message from the Candyman.”