Chapter Text
For a moment, everyone was quiet.
Over Taako's shoulder, Barry could see Lup's face. Her hair looked different, but Barry had trouble looking away from her eyes. Before they had been dull and blank, like she hadn't been fully there, her attention pulled away. He remembered sitting across from her and feeling like she was looking past him, past the house, to something much farther away.
Now she was alert, eyes bright as she looked her fill at her family, and Barry was stuck with the sudden realization that he was not supposed to be here. He wasn't family, nor was he connected to family. He was a stranger in a room of her loved ones.
He had swayed back, preparing to step away and grab his keys, when she locked eyes with him. She squinted like she wasn’t sure of what she was seeing. Barry felt, suddenly, like a small animal under a microscope. “Sildar?”
Barry ducked his head as Taako snorted. “Bless you. Seen us for 30 seconds and already talking gibberish again, Lulu?”
Lup laughed, loud and long. “Fuck off, Koko, you know I hate that name.” Even as she spoke, she stepped over the threshold and into her brother’s arms. Like that, whatever had been keeping everyone silent dissipated, and everyone started speaking at once.
In between Taako explaining how they found her, and Merle asking about the baby swaddled against Lup’s back, Barry slipped back into the sitting room and swiped his keys off the couch cushion in. He needed to get out, wanted to leave, felt intensely uncomfortable and very much an intruder, but they were all crowded in front of the door. He had no way of being able to remove himself without causing the exact scene he was trying to avoid.
“The back door is through the kitchen,” Davenport said from beside him. Barry startled slightly, but nodded and mouthed a thank you to the much smaller man. Davenport nodded once as he went back into the hallway. Barry took that as his cue to leave.
The back door exited to the side of the cottage, and Barry walked over to his car on shaky legs. He checked the footwells for anything Taako or Kravitz might have left, and sighed in relief when all he saw was his own mess.
Getting into the car, he allowed himself one glance back at the cottage. As he did, a breeze passed through the open window into the sitting room, and Lup locked eyes with him again. Her lips twitched, and she held up her hand in a small wave.
Barry nodded, red-faced, as he backed out of the drive. His stomach fluttered the whole way back to town.
Two hours later, he pulled off the highway at the same gas station as the night before, still vaguely panicked about something. He couldn’t figure out what, but the pulled-tight sensation was there across his shoulders, the familiar weight in his sternum telling him something was wrong. He did what he usually did when his panic wouldn’t leave him - he called Lucretia.
“...‘Lo?” He listened to her fumble for the phone as he gazed at the fluorescent lights of the Shell. “Barry? What’s up? Are you okay?”
Barry let his head thump down to rest on the steering wheel. “Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry for waking you so early.”
Lucretia huffed. “It’s fine, I should be up now anyway. What’s up?”
Barry sighed. “We found her. Well, we drove to the cottage that Taako’s... Dads, I think? Live. And so did Lup. And then everyone was talking and it felt like a personal situation so I left.”
He could hear Lucretia moving, along with a muffled curse as she inevitably hit her elbow against the bookcase next to her bedroom door. “Did anyone say anything about you being there?”
“Well, she recognized me. Didn’t say anything past that, but. It felt weird. Feels weird.” Barry felt the weight in his chest grow stronger. Shit.
Barry heard another rustle of fabric. “Do you want me to pick you up?”
He sighed again, feeling his breath fan out against the cracked leather of the steering wheel. "No, I should be fine. Once everything is under control. And we wouldn't have a way to get both cars home."
"I can call a ride, it's no big deal-"
"Thank you," Barry cut her off, wincing as he did so. "but no. I'll be fine. I just wanted to let you know, y'know. Keep you updated. I'll see you Sunday?"
Lucretia sighed that time, a gust of soft noise through the speaker. "You better, Bluejeans. You're making soup, I have been waiting for that soup for weeks ."
Barry laughed, and a little bit of the tightness left his shoulders. His chest unclenched slightly. "I know, Luce."
"I'll let you go. Be safe, okay?"
"I will. Talk to you later."
"Bye." Barry's phone beeped to let him know she hung up, and Barry allowed himself a few more seconds with his head on the steering wheel before he sat up.
As he got onto the highway again, Barry turned on the radio. The opening strains of the song from the night before filled the car like a physical thing, and the tension seeped out of Barry's shoulders.
Driving home felt like an ending. A good one.
Barry did, in fact, make soup; he and Lucretia curled up on opposite ends of her couch Sunday night, blankets and warm bowls of chicken and dumpling staving off the oncoming winter chill as he tried to explain the events of the weekend.
“So, one of Greg’s neighbors helped Lup escape after I guess she set fire to the house? I never got confirmation on what did that, exactly. She left a message with him for her brother, and we reconvened to talk about it more. He also proved that he was a werewolf, which was- that was a trip, let me tell you. So we drove to where Lup said she would be, and I met Taako’s somethings? I’m not sure if parents, or uncles or what, and guess what?”
Lucretia hummed around her bite, looking at him in question.
“One of them was Merle.”
Lucretia’s eyes went wide. “No fucking way,” she said behind her hand, mouth full.
Barry nodded. “Way. I couldn’t believe it, but he looks almost exactly the same. Except, well, happier?” He fiddled with his spoon, then the corner of the blanket. “I’m surprised he recognized me, to be honest.”
Lucretia nodded as she rested her head against the back of the couch for a moment. “Well, you have changed a lot since you last saw each other, but Merle was pretty good at remembering what’s important, y’know?”
“Yeah.” He paused. “Everyone was so happy to see her. That was when it kicked in that I was watching a really personal moment, so I left then.”
Lucretia set her spoon down. “You didn’t see them shift or anything? Really?”
Barry blushed. “It felt personal. I didn’t want to intrude.” He busied himself by preparing a spoonful of dumpling.
He looked at Lucretia when she stayed silent, only to find her already gazing back. “You’re a good guy, Barry.”
Barry flushed further as his shoulders crept up to his ears. “Gross.”
Lucretia snorted. “Don’t make me regret being earnest, Bluejeans. Eat your soup.”
The next morning, Barry went back to work. He brought back the box that had held the coat, now filled with all the paperwork he had brought home to review over the last month or two. He knew it was probably his paranoia, but Barry felt eyes on his back as he walked into the office. The feeling sank like a pit in his stomach. He tried to shake it off as he opened the door.
Paloma glanced up from her book at him. “How are you feeling?”
Barry smiled at her, only a little wanly. “Much better. I think it was one of those twenty-four-hour bugs, you know?”
Paloma nodded solemnly, and then reached into a compartment of her desk and pulled out a scone. She handed it to him with measured movements, more like she was giving him a magical weapon than a baked good. “Once you’ve set your things down, Mr. MacSantaigh wants to see you.”
Barry nodded, the pit in his stomach growing deeper. “Sure thing. Thank you for the scone.”
Paloma nodded and waved him off, and Barry took the hallway to the office he shared with Greg.
He opened the door to a disaster area.
Everything was overturned, even the computers, like someone had torn through the room searching for something. Even the blinds along the small window hung crooked, as if someone had frantically checked the window for something.
Greg was the obvious idea, but Barry didn’t see Greg anywhere, or anything to show Greg specifically had been there. Just a torn-up room.
Barry set the box down next to the door, one of the only clean spots of floor in the mess of loose paperwork and overturned office furniture. Then he turned and walked to his boss’ office.
Mr. MacSantaigh (“Please, call me John-”) was a put-together man. That was the only way Barry could ever think to describe him. His suits were perfectly pressed, his hair perfectly coiffed, and his office was never anything but perfectly organized. Barry resented him a little bit, right then.
Barry knocked on the door and waited. He heard some muffled voices through the door before a louder “Come in.”
Barry opened the door and stepped inside, then he froze. Greg was sitting, neck craned to look at him, and he was furious.
Mr. MacSantaigh waved a long-fingered hand to the other seat across from him. “Please, Sildar, sit.”
Barry sat. Greg did not stop looking at him, even as he sat down. Barry could feel his gaze burning into the side of his face, could smell the alcohol on him from this distance, and he tried hard to not let his panic show. He kept his eye contact with Mr. MacSantaigh through it all.
“Sildar,” Mr. MacSantaigh started, “Greg brought up a serious concern with me this morning. He said something of his was missing from the office when he came to work. Do you happen to know anything about that?”
Barry opened his mouth to respond, but Greg interrupted. “You took it, you little shit, I know you fucking did, give it back, it was mine , I swear to god I’ll-”
Mr. MacSantaigh raised a hand and Greg went silent. “Sildar?”
Barry shook his head. “I took some- some paperwork home with me on Friday, I wasn’t feeling well. Is that what you mean?”
Mr. MacSantaigh shook his head with a sigh. “It was a bit more personal than some paperwork, Sildar. You’re sure you didn’t accidentally take something of Greg’s with you? No paperweights, or strange outerwear, nothing?”
All of a sudden, it clicked. Mr. MacSantaigh knew about Lup. He might have known all along, and based on the way Greg was listening to him Barry could guess that Mr. MacSantaigh wanted to find the coat again.
Well. That wasn’t going to fucking happen.
Barry pushed aside the ever-present panic and let his anger at it all, the whole terrible godsdamned situation, fuel his words. “What exactly is it you think I stole? The flask he hides in his drawer?”
Mr. MacSantaigh laughed. “No-one’s accusing you of theft. If they were, your contract with the company would have to be immediately terminated, of course, we cannot abide by thievery. We’re just wondering if there was something you took that you didn’t realize wasn’t yours.”
Barry looked at him. “Let me get this straight. You think I took something because an obviously intoxicated employee said I did, and you won’t even tell me what it is?”
Mr. MacSantaigh did not respond for a moment, as his genial expression tightened. “Sildar, implying someone is intoxicated while on the job is a serious-”
“I’m not implying anything. I am stating that Greg is drunk.” Barry took a deep breath. “And actually, you know what? I don’t think I want to work for a company that would accuse an upstanding employee of theft without having any single shred of proof to back it up. So this is me putting in my resignation, effective immediately.” Barry stood, taking in the veiled shock on Mr. MacSantaigh’s face. “I will pack up my personal items from my office, and file the proper paperwork with Paloma. Is there anything else you wish to talk about, or am I free to go?”
Mr. MacSantaigh was silent. Barry nodded and walked to the door.
“One last thing,” he said as Barry grabbed the door handle. “Say hi to Merle for me.”
Barry didn’t respond as he left. He couldn’t, with his heart in his throat.
By the time Barry got home, he was shaking.
His apartment was on the third floor, and while typically he took the elevator, Barry knew that if he put himself in an enclosed space right then he would break down before he got in his place and that would be. Bad.
So he walked up three flights of stairs, trying to ignore his panic and his aching knees.
Fuck. Fuck. He had just quit his job. Sure, he didn’t like it there and had always dreamed of giving his boss the ol’ fuck off, but he had quit.
Barry was close to hyperventilating by the time he got to the third floor. He opened the door on the stair landing in a blind panic. He needed to get inside, and he needed to evaluate, fuck, everything, but especially his work, fuck-
Barry stopped when he looked to his door. Directly next to it sat Lup, crisscrossed on the floor with her baby in her arms and a jacket like Taako’s strung across her shoulders.
She looked up and locked eyes with him. “Barry Bluejeans. We need to have a conversation.”
End of Part One