milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Hal was already through the front door, seated at the Bar and halfway through his first cup of coffee when he realized what day it was.

Of all the days for a green-clad hero to show up in uniform, St Patrick's Day might just be the worst.

"Bar. More coffee please. And a t-shirt and a pair of jeans if you have it."

The coffee cup fills to the rim.

Also, a t-shirt and a pair of jeans appear, neatly folded. The jeans are green and the t-shirt (also green) says, Kiss Me, I'm Not Remotely Irish.

"Yep. Today is going to be a long, long day."

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Barry sees this and laughs.

"All these years and you never got used to St. Patrick's Day? surely they asked you to join the parade once in Coast City."

"But Barry ... I'm not even Irish."

Hal thinks a second.

"Well, I might be. Dad never talked about it much and Mom was too apple pie and Fourth of July to consider anything before 1776 ... but that's beside the point. It's the principle of the thing. And ... yes, I did it once. Led the parade. It was all well and good until I saw Ollie on the sidelines, trying to instigate a small scale student protest, something about the pollution caused by the floats or the dangers of unlicensen baton twirling. I think I still owe him a payback for that one ..."

Hal looks at Barry and grins.

"You know ... you think you're safe, but in the right light, you could pass for Cupid. Or throw on a beard and you're the fastest Santa Claus on the planet!"

"And come next Christmas, I plan to offer my services. But don't mention Cupid around here. He's not exactly on the welcome list, I think.

"Ollie was probably jealous. And think of it this way: I doubt he has much love for the Catholic Church. He could have really embarrassed you with a real and angry protest.

"I'm Irish on my grandmother's side, I think, but I worked with the police for long enough that I think I'm honorary Irish.

"Speaking of the police, I'm glad you're here. I could use some advice."

"So many people compared the Corps to a great big intergalactic police force ... and every single time I'd catch myself thinking of Kilowog's hilarious imitation of Officer Krupke from West Side Story ... you'd've loved it.

"But anyway, we can't always fall into these nostalgia traps, Barry. It makes us look old. So what's on your mind?"

He pauses to gather his thoughts.

"Last week, I met someone. A forensics cop from Las Vegas. Named Sara.

"We started talking, and hit it off. Was nice to talk with someone who knew about being a police scientist. Obviously we have a lot in common.

"But the more we talk, the more I...

"I'm attracted to her, I think. And she seems to like me. Heck, she's buying me a tuxedo out of her own money for a party this weekend. She even called me handsome.

"Hal, is this right? I have thought of myself as married since I got here. I lost Iris and then found her, and don't know if I'm ready to let go so soon. But...

"I'm confused. And could use some advice. Got any?"

Hal listens. He's good at that.

"I met her. We talked about colors and costumes. Her name's Sara? That's a good name, you know. Means princess, I believe ..."

Hal looks at his coffee. It's getting cold.

"Barry ... If there is anything I can honestly say about you -- not about The Flash, but about Barry Allen -- it is that I've rarely met anyone as loyal, as devoted or as considerate. Lots of fellows like to say that they'd turn back time or cross centuries for the woman they love, but how many of them actually do it? I only know one.

"So naturally, it shouldn't surprise anyone that you keep that tremendous devotion to this day, even beyond the pale of death. You will never stop loving Iris. That's a fact for your scientific logbook. And if you could be with Iris right now, I think you would be.

"But here you are. Bound. Iris, where ever she is and as much as she loves you, must carry on. And so must you."

Hal downs the rest of his coffee. Places the cup back on the Bar.

"Still confused?"

"A little.

"I think I know that at some point, I need to let go. I will let go. I'm just not ready to do that yet. Which doesn't mean that I'm not interested in Sara.

"Guess I just hope she's okay with taking it slow. Ironic, wouldn't you say?"

"No, Barry. Don't let go. That's not necessary. Just accept it, embrace it and evolve. Maybe Sara is your next step, or maybe she's just a really nice girl who thinks you'd look hot in a tuxedo. Either way, you won't be betraying anyone by enjoying yourself. After all, that's what life -- or the afterlife, in your case -- is all about.

"And it's not irony, my friend. It's just reality. Not everything has to be done at Mach 3."

"Says the fighter pilot to the speedster.

"Thanks. I think you're making sense. Which would shock and horrify Ollie, wouldn't it?

"But then, I think he'd be the last person I would ever go to for advice about women.

"Can I ask you something else? About the whole Warren thing. You've died and come back. Is there any reason you could think of that someone here - not necessarily Warren - shouldn't get that? And no, I am not thinking of extending this to myself. I know that my time is done. But since you have an unique perspective..."

Hal ruminates for a while.

"Death. One of these days, I need to track that girl down and have a nice long chat, because I have a few questions ...

"You know, Barry, I don't believe I ever received the what dreams may come part of the death equation. I'm not bitter about it, of course, but my experience is so far removed from the norm ... I didn't do a lot of resting in peace, if you get my drift.

"So coming back feels more like paradise, actually. To finally come full circle and find myself back in ... well ... I saw them, you know. At the very end, I could've sworn I saw them all. Dad. Mom. Calling me to that great beyond ... but my heaven turned out to be a second chance at life itself. Something or somebody decided that I wasn't done yet, and I really don't think that Ganthet was the only one working the strings."

Hal shakes his head slowly, turns to the Bar and picks up his refilled coffee cup.

"You're the scientist, Barry. This is where you tell me that it was all a post-traumatic manufacturing of experiences, that it was just a trick of the dying or reviving mind, but it was real enough to me.

"Now ... does everyone deserve the second chance I have? It would be nice to think so, but I don't think you or me or Ray or anyone in this Bar (with the exception of the pretty pale girl with the black hair) can make that kind of decision."

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