Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Barry stumbled out of the social worker's car as he looked up at the house that he would be living in for the next... nobody would tell him how long he was staying. The house didn't look sinister, or anything like Lemony Snicket had described Count Olaf's house in A SERIES OF UNFORTUNATE EVENTS. Barry realized the books probably weren’t real. But most books talked about sending kids to an orphanage, not to someone else's house, so A SERIES OF UNFORTUNATE EVENTS was all he had to go off of. It also felt more and more true as the days went on.

"It's alright Barry," said his social worker, Mr. Holt. "The Robinsons are great people and they foster a lot of older children."

Barry didn't know what to say. He didn't need to say anything, as it turned out, because Mr. Holt had already taken Barry's hand to walk up to the door. When he knocked, a woman answered, inviting them both in. A man was waiting just inside, who must have been the woman's husband. They both smiled and called Barry by name and invited him to sit down on the couch while they talked a little bit with Mr. Holt. Barry knew how this part went, because when adults were around each other they didn't really want to talk to a kid. So Barry could sit quietly for a while and didn't have to worry about answering any questions.

After listening to Mr. and Mrs. Robinson talk to Mr. Holt for a little while, Barry heard a door slam somewhere within the house.

"Oh, Clyde must be home!" said Mrs. Robinson as she smiled. Barry didn't like the way she smiled—it was the way a lot of adults were smiling at him lately. Like they wanted to pretend they were happy but really, they were just nervous and didn't understand. "Clyde!" Mrs. Robinson called. "Clyde, honey, could you come in here please?"

A high school boy walked into the room, his hair in his eyes, and his clothes hanging off of him weird, like he had either just been in a fight or he hadn't paid attention to how he'd gotten dressed. He didn't say anything.

"Clyde," said Mrs. Robinson, "this is Barry. He's going to be staying with us for a little while. Barry, this is Clyde—he's our other foster child, so you can think of him like your big brother."

Clyde muttered something under his breath that no one quite caught.

"What was that, son?" Mr. Robinson asked.

"I said, 'It's nice to meet you, Barry,'" said Clyde, a little louder this time. The hard look in his watery brown eyes made Barry think that that wasn't what he had said at all. He had a look almost like Tony Woodward did before he threw a punch. "May I be excused? I want to study before dinner."

Mrs. Robinson's shoulder drooped—she had relaxed a little. "Of course, Clyde," she said. As Clyde walked away back toward what appeared to be a dining room, Mrs. Robinson turned to Mr. Holt and said, "He's been working so hard on getting his GED, and he hasn't missed a day of work in over a month. We're so proud. Well, Barry, why don't we get you settled in?"

Barry knew his cue here. He stood up, still quiet, and followed Mrs. Robinson upstairs. She chattered as they went. They had three bedrooms, but Mr. Robinson used the third one as an office (Barry's mom had done the same thing, and all at once the image of her face comes flooding back to him. He swallows it down and focuses on the ugly taupe color of the walls—Mom always said taupe was the worst color to paint your walls) so Barry would be rooming with Clyde. Barry was grateful Clyde had stayed downstairs, as it let him unpack his suitcase and backpack in peace. He had only been able to take a few books from the house while they were still investigating it, and the room didn't have a bookshelf or a desk, so Barry just put them under the bed at the head. He shared a dresser with Clyde, too, so maybe it was a good thing they hadn't let him take many of his clothes.

"Do you want to help me with dinner, Barry?" Mrs. Robinson asked when they had finished taking everything out of the bags and placing it in an ordered way.

"I'm tired," said Barry. "Can I have a nap before dinner?"

"Sure," said Mrs. Robinson. She smiled brightly at him and left him the room, only mostly closing the door behind her.

Barry settled down on the bed, but he didn't sleep. He tried not to think of anything, which was hard because he missed his mom, and he missed his dad. And the people who said that they wanted to take care of him were stupid—they wouldn't even let him stay with Joe. Joe was stupid too, because he didn't believe Barry, but at least he knew Barry. At least he actually wanted to help instead of just pretending. Before Barry knew it, tears were rolling down his cheeks, and his breath was starting to get tight. Dad had taught him a trick where whenever he got scared to recite the periodic table to calm down. So that's what Barry did—he started saying all of the elements as he lay on a strange bed in a strange house, crying because it wasn't home.

"Are you messed up or just stupid?"

Barry gasped and sat up in bed. Clyde stood in the doorway of the room, his eyes no longer watery or mean, but just plain, like Barry hadn't seen in a long time. He was squinting a little at Barry, trying to figure out what was going on. Barry didn't know if he could explain, so he just said, "I miss my mom and dad."

Clyde rolled his eyes. He came into the room, shut the door completely behind him and flopped down on his own bed. "If they clean up their acts they can get you back again. Especially if they haven't given up their parental rights. People do it all the time."

Barry wiped at his eyes and he shook his head. "My mom is dead. Everyone said my dad did it so they put him in prison."

Barry's honest statement echoed in the room, and caused Clyde to raise his eyebrows as he leaned back against the wall.

"Shit," said Clyde. "That's fucked up, man."

Barry knew he should probably be upset about Clyde's bad language. But recent, unfortunate events really put into light what Barry should get upset over. Instead he just wiped the last remains of his tears and said, "Yeah, it is really fucked up." The word rolled off his tongue easier than Barry thought it would and tasted sweet on his palette.

"So did he?" Clyde asked.

"Did who what?" said Barry.

"Did your dad really kill your mom?" Clyde didn’t lean forward to listen, but he did have his eyes trained on Barry, waiting for the answer.

Barry shook his head. "No. He didn't. Another man did, but it was really weird how it happened, so no one believes us. They all think I'm trying to cover for my dad or something. They think I'm lying." A heat began to pool in Barry's chest, and caused it to draw tightly in.

Clyde only shrugged. "Well, fuck them." Clyde's nonchalant dismissal startled Barry a little just as he began to clench his fists. "If they're wrong, they're wrong. You and your dad were the only ones there, how else are they gonna know what happened?"

"You...don't think I'm lying?" Barry asked.

Clyde shook his head. "No. You're too nice to lie. Tell you what, if you don't tell Sheryl and Keith what we're doing, I'll take you with me to the dump after dinner. We can destroy some shit. It'll make you feel better."

The idea of getting to destroy something made Barry excited and anxious all at once. So he said, "Who are Sheryl and Keith?"

"The Robinsons, dork," said Clyde, rolling his eyes. "You swear to me you won't say anything?"

Barry nodded eagerly. "I swear."

Sheryl called them down to dinner a few minutes later, and the boys went. Sheryl tried to get Barry to open up about what he liked to do, and what he did in school (even though school had said he didn't have to come back this year, and the middle school would still accept him in the fall). Barry answered the questions politely and tried not to frown or scream or cry. About halfway through dinner, Clyde said, "After dinner, can I take Barry out and show him the neighborhood? Like where the park is and how to get to the library?"

"That's a great idea, sport," said Keith, smiling at Clyde.

"You boys just make sure to get back before dark," said Sheryl, with a short nod.

"Yes ma'am," said Clyde, as he kicked Barry under the table so Barry would say the same.

"Yes ma'am," said Barry, smiling back at her.

After dinner they put their dishes in the sink and then Clyde lead the way out the back door.

Clyde was quiet as they rambled around. True to his word, he did show Barry where the park was and said they would swing back by the library before it closed so they could check out some books to make their ramble seem a little more believable. But as Clyde led Barry through a wooded area until they came across a dump of old car parts, ovens and refrigerators, Clyde stayed quiet. He stayed quiet as he handed Barry a metal pole and then took up one of his own. Clyde didn't speak to make noise, Barry discovered; instead, he began to beat at anything with his reach. He smashed out car windows and dented the bodies. He beat the door of an oven until it came off of the stove with a loud crash. He beat and he smashed.

It was like watching a tornado.

Clyde, damp with sweat and panting, turned to Barry. "Try it. You'll like it."

Barry took up his metal rod and brought it against a car window. He made a dent but it didn't shatter. He hit it again. Another dent.

"C'mon, man!" said Clyde, thumping his shoulder. "Like you mean it. Beat their faces in."

Barry hit the window and it actually shattered. "Yeah!" he shouted.

Clyde let off a loud whoop. "That's what I'm talking about. Do it again, man!"

Barry pulled back and hit another window. This time it only took two hits for the window to break, glass shattering everywhere.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Both Barry and Clyde turned to see an older boy stalking toward them. He was taller than Clyde, and broader in the shoulders, but they had the same dark blond hair and stormy blue eyes. Clyde relaxed when he caught sight of him, but Barry stood wary of the boy.

"Jesus, Mark, you scared the shit out of us. Thought you were a cop or something," said Clyde.

"And what if I had been?" said Mark, waving his hands around. "This is private property—you wanna go to juvie, Clyde, a month before you're gonna get out of foster care? Or worse, if they try you as an adult you go to fucking prison?"

"Shit, Mark, nobody comes out here but us," said Clyde, throwing away his metal pole. "Calm down."

Mark rolled his eyes. "And who the fuck is this kid?"

"I'm Barry," he said, feeling that anxiety rise up in him again. But the adrenaline from wrecking the car was still racing through his veins and so he tacked on, "Who're you?"

"I'm that idiot's older brother," said Mark, jerking his thumb over at Clyde. "So the losers got a new kid, huh?"

"Just got put into the system," said Clyde, ruffling up Barry's hair. "Think we can take him with us?"

Mark rolled his eyes again. "That's kidnapping, Clyde. They'd be on us before we left the state."

"If you left the state with me it would be a felony," Barry pipped up, making the older boys look at him. "Plus, I'm gonna go live with my parents' friend, Joe. So you don't have to take me with, Clyde. I won't stay with the Robinsons forever."

Clyde cocked his head one side and almost looked like he wanted to say something. His mouth parted, and then he shut it again. "Yeah," he said at last. "Okay." He turned to Mark. "Hey, man, what time is it?"

"Almost seven," said Mark, pulling his coat sleeve back to look at his watch.

"Library closes at eight," said Clyde with a nod. "We should go. You got anything new for the plan?"

"No, same as always," said Mark. His eyes flick over to Barry for just a second before he said, "On your birthday." Mark hesitated a moment more before he pulled Clyde in for a hug. "Don't tell that little punk too much, alright? They got ways of making little kids squeal."

Barry wanted to protest that he was eleven now, not a little kid, but Mark had already begun to walk away. Clyde bunched up the back of Barry's hoodie and pushed him along. "C'mon," he said. "We gotta get to the library before it closes, otherwise they'll think I lied."

Barry nodded emphatically and followed Clyde away from the dump of cars back out of the woods and to the library. They wouldn't let Barry get a library card without parent permission, but Clyde already had one. He let Barry get as many books as he wanted, which amounted to about five before the library closed. As they walked back to the Robinsons' house, Barry felt a little lighter. He could still see his mother's face in his mind's eye, but when he did he simply walked up next to Clyde and took his hand. For a second, Clyde looked down at him like he had grown a second head, but then squeezed Barry's hand back. "You're okay, kid," said Clyde.

And somehow, because Clyde was the one who had said it, because Clyde was the one who had told them to beat their faces in, because Clyde was the one who said that it was all fucked up, because Clyde was the one who had said he believed Barry, Barry believed that he would actually be okay.

A month passed in Clyde's company. The Robinsons made Clyde work since he had dropped out of high school, so he was gone most of the day. Barry had thought his days would be full of Sheryl Robinson trying to bond with him, but thankfully she turned him out of the house and let him loose on the neighborhood. Barry spent a lot of time at the library where he met some kids who homeschooled. They let him hang around with them while they did homework or when they went to the park or down to the creek to mess around. But whenever Clyde was around, Barry followed him like a shadow. And Clyde let him, no matter how frustrated the older boy seemed to get by Barry's adoration.

Then, one morning, Barry woke up to the sound of a revving engine. He turned over and Clyde's bed lacked Clyde's body. His drawers in the dresser were all open and his backpack was gone. Absently, Barry realized that it was April 13, Clyde's birthday. He shot out of bed like a bullet out of a gun and made it down stairs, out the door and down the drive just as Clyde was getting into a Mustang. "Clyde!!"

Clyde turned, his face red with anger, ready to explode like lava out of a volcano. But then, the redness drained off and he grinned at Barry. "Jesus, kid, wake the whole neighborhood, why don't'cha?"

Barry didn't wait for permission, just launched himself into Clyde's arms. "You weren't gonna say good-bye?"

"You were asleep, and I didn't want to wake you," said Clyde, pulling back and ruffling Barry's hair. "Hey, wanna know a secret? I heard Sheryl talking to your social worker. Your friend's application got approved, so he's gonna come get you later this week. You're getting out, kid."

"Will I ever see you again?" Barry asked.

"You're smart," said Clyde, rolling his eyes. "You want to find me, I'm sure you'll manage. But you keep that head in your books, Barry Allen — you go to college and figure out who it was that killed your mom."

Barry nodded emphatically. "I will, I promise."

Clyde pulled him in for another hug, squeezing Barry tight before he got back into the car alongside Mark. Mark had been watching them, his blue eyes trained on Barry like lightning. But he, too, seemed softer than he had a month ago. "Hey kid," he said. "Thanks for being a friend to my brother. You need us, we'll come for you, too."

It took Barry a minute to understand what he was saying, but then he realized that he meant if Barry ended up in a situation like Clyde had, passed from home to home. Barry laughed. "Six years is a long time. You promise?"

Mark actually ran his finger over his chest. "Cross my heart."

"As if I'd ever forget you," said Clyde, poking Barry in the forehead. "But don't listen to him. You'll be okay, kid."

Barry nodded, forgetting that he was supposed to hold in his tears and letting them go. "Yeah," he said. "I'll be okay."

With that there was nothing more to say. Barry stepped back onto the sidewalk and watched the Mustang go until it disappeared down the road. He staid there for a little while until Keith Robinson came out onto the porch, dressed for work and shouted, "Barry Allen! What are you doing?"

Barry, without a word, turned back to the house and walked back inside. He let Sheryl Robinson fuss over him before he went upstairs and got dressed for breakfast. As he combed his hair in the mirror he said to himself, "You'll be okay, kid." And because it was Clyde who had first said it, Barry knew it was going to be true.

Chapter Text

Barry sees the flyer for the Irish conversation group at the library and knows in an instant that he has to go. The library is on the way home from school, and Barry stops there often enough to get books or DVDs and sometimes even go to the teen events. Joe gives him this long hard look like Barry's asked for the moon or something. Then Joe says, "Why do you want to go speak Irish anyway? Shouldn't you be learning Spanish?"

"I'm taking Spanish in school!" says Barry. He feels like waving his hands around, but tamps down the urge, along with wanting to add that he and Clyde and Mark spoke Spanish together when they managed a phone call. "And..."

"And what?" Joe asks, crossing his arms over his chest and staring Barry down.

Barry feels small, in the way he always does when he talks about the past. "Mom used to talk Irish with me." And so had Gran and Gramps and Aunties and Uncles who still lived in Ireland. The last Barry had spoken to any of them, though was at the funeral.

Joe sighs after taking in Barry's slumped shoulders and his wide eyes. "The group will let out too late for you to walk home," he says. "So you have to wait for me to come and get you. Even if that means I'm getting off shift late, do you understand?"

Barry nods emphatically, and then lets a wide grin over take him as he wraps his arms around Joe. Joe doesn't even joke about Barry's gangly limbs poking out an eye. He just holds on tight to Barry. "I miss your mom," says Joe, his whiskers scratching Barry's cheek. "She was a good friend you know. And I miss your dad too."

Barry wonders for a moment how you can miss someone who you put in prison. But he supposes that Joe means he misses them in the time before the lightning. Joe misses the way things were. "I do too," says Barry, because he does. It's not just the way his mom used to speak Irish, but the way he and his dad would do experiments together. He misses helping Mom paint the houses she was thinking of selling. He misses the way he and Dad would go walk shelter dogs for exercise and good spirit. He misses his parents.

On the upside, Barry thinks morosely, he thinks he know how to define nostalgia for his vocab words.

He hasn't spoken Irish for a few years now. Barry Googles an Irish-English dictionary, coming up with one from a university that seems alright, and spends the week up to the conversation class looking up words. When he has the words, the sentences start coming back and he feels a little more prepared, if no less nervous, when he enters the meeting room in the library.

"!" says a bright-eyed woman at the door.

"," says Barry back with an equally bright smile. He falters for a moment, squinting, "Um, do we speak Irish the whole time?"

"Oh, God, no," she says with a laugh. "The only one here who knows enough for that is Mick. I'm Tess, by the way."

"Barry, nice to meet you."

They shake hands and Tess directs Barry to sit where ever he likes, get a snack (or wait until Mick comes, since he usually brings the best snack), and it'll be another ten or twenty minutes before they get started. Barry nods and takes a seat a few seats down from a man reading a book. Since he has the time, he pulls out his chem homework and starts balancing equations. He's about ten problems through when someone sits across from him brandishing her own chem book. Shannon, as she says her name is, is in college, but still has chem homework. They chat for a bit about the Chem program at Central City University, since it's one of the best in the country. "Of course, a bunch of the classes double as criminal science," says Shannon, rolling her eyes. "Which can get annoying if you want to make things blow up."

Someone snorts over Barry's shoulder, and Barry looks as one of the biggest men he's ever seen sits down next to him. "Don't I know it, lass."

"Hi, Mick!" says Shannon brightly.

Even the man who was incredibly engrossed in his book looks up and says, "Hi, Mick," before going back to it.

Mick sets a plate of cake in front of him, asking, "Anyone want a slice?"

Shannon sets aside her chem book with an eager nod, and Mick passes her a slice of what looks to be lemon and poppy seed cake. "And you?" Mick asks, looking down at Barry. He has to look down — Barry's the tallest kid in his grade and Mick towers over him.

"Um, yes, thank you," says Barry. The cake is thick and unglazed and uniced. It's the right amount of sweet to the thick, stick to your bones sponge. Barry might eat his in three bites before he remembers to look sheepish about it.

"Don't worry about it," says Mick with an easy shrug. "You look skinny enough, I'm keen to give you another slice."

He might have, except everyone else was coming over for a slice now, and it was gone a moment later. Mick lets it roll off of his back and instead pulls a checkers board from his pocket. "Want to play a game?"

"Sure," says Barry, also forsaking his chemistry.

Mick keeps the conversation light, asking Barry's name and where he's from and how old he is. Whenever Barry stumbles, Mick corrects him gently. They have to trade partners after their game of checkers, and so Barry trades off with book man (whose name is Travis). Barry has so much fun talking to the others that he barely notices when five thirty rolls around, until Joe calls him to meet outside. Everyone choruses goodbye, and Barry walks out smiling at the day's meeting. He would definitely be coming back, Of course, he didn't tell Joe much about anyone there — he had a feeling he wouldn't approve of Tess's tattoos or the way Shannon encourage Barry's CSI dreams, or Mick. He didn't know why Mick got a category unto himself, but it seemed sort of appropriate. Joe had a little bit of a tendency to judge people just by their first impressions. And Barry thought Joe would not like the first impressions the group made.

But Barry went back. Everyone tried to rotate around for new partners every week. Even so, the group ended up only being about ten regular people after the first few weeks, and they all had two or three partners a session. That meant that Barry and Mick talked once every few weeks. After about their third or fourth conversation, Barry figured out why he thought Joe would not be terribly pleased by Mick's presence. Mick was teaching Barry a trick with some cards and when Barry asked where he had learned it, Mick casually replies, "Prison."

"Oh," says Barry, feeling his eyes go wide.

Mick just stares down at their cards. "That bother you, kiddo?"

"No, no," says Barry, desperately trying to backpedal. "I just — I've never heard someone admit it so easily."

"Ain't everybody that's ashamed of it, kiddo," says Mick with a shrug. "I s'pose by the law I deserved to be there. I did my time and then I left."

Barry considers this. He knew his father was incredibly ashamed of being in prison. Maybe it was different if, as Mick had said, you felt you deserved your sentence. After a moment, he says, "My dad's in prison."

Mick looks up at that confess. "Yeah? What'd he do?"

Barry feels his voice crack. "He didn't," he says after clearing his throat. "But he got convicted of, um, murder."

Mick doesn't look surprised or concerned or make anyone of the number of faces that people did when Barry says that. Instead he just squints for a moment. "Hang on," he says. "Your last name Allen? Like Doc Allen?"

"Yeah," says Barry with a nod.

"Huh, yeah, I met your old man," says Mick, nodding back. "Doesn't seem like the type to me."

They both go silent for a minute before Barry asks Mick to show him the card trick again.

They discuss it again, but it's only ever in snippets. Mick will say one day that the cravings for prison food are the worst, because prison food is such shit. Mick will say that he hates parole more than therapy because he's never had anyone in corrections pity him more than social workers. One time, when they're paired together, Mick seems a million miles away, letting Barry ramble on about whatever he wants. After a little bit, Barry stops talking, which actually gets Mick to sit up and look at him.

"Is something wrong, ?" Barry asks. He feels it's okay to call Mick his friend, because they see each other once a week and talk about stuff that actually matters.

"Just a bad day," says Mick.

Barry nods and stays quiet for a little bit. One of his therapists once told him that the invitation people need to start talking is usually for someone else to be quiet and listen. Barry stays quiet and listens.

Mick stares down at his hands as he speaks, no quiet willing to meet Barry's eye. "If you ever end up inside, kiddo, make sure you never go to solitary if you can help it. Sometimes you can't help it, you know? I don't even mean that you couldn't stop yourself misbehaving. Sometimes they just send you to solitary and there's nothing to be done but wait it out. But it's so ungodly quiet, Barry. And there's no sun. You don't even see the guards most times. You just have you. And a man with his own mind and only the same four walls and the goddamn quiet — it's enough to make anyone go mad." Mick looks up at him in a fierce way that Barry's never seen him before. "Don't ever go inside, Barry."

"I won't," says Barry. "I promise you. I won't."

"Good," says Mick. He nods a long for a moment and then looks at his watch. "I gotta cut out of here early. Got someplace to be with an old friend."

Barry nods again, pausing for a moment before asking, "Am I gonna see you again?"

Mick snorts. "We get caught, you can see me every month in Iron Heights when you go to visit your old man. That's all I'll say about that. Don't want you to end up an accessory." Mick stands up and ruffles Barry's hair.

Barry batted away his hand the way he might with his cousin, Eliot, or when Joe ran their hands through his hair. “. ."

Mick chuckled. “, .”

Barry watched him go feeling a weight form on his chest.

Naturally, of course, Mick came back the next week, no worse for wear. In fact, he was the first one in the room, and he sat glaring at another man who had a steamy looking romance novel it looked like he had pulled from a library display.

"," said Barry to Mick.

"," said Mick back.

"," said the stranger, glancing up from his romance novel.

"Shannon's sick today, one of the librarians said," Mick explained, nodding to Barry. He then turned to glare at the other man again. "This disagreeable sack of bones is Leonard. And he ate the cake that I was going to bring today."

Leonard only shrugged. "If you've had it, you know how good it is. You must be Barry."

"Uh, yeah," said Barry.

"Mick mentioned your dad," Leonard drawled, yes, outright drawled. "Haven't had the pleasure myself, but I've heard rumors that he's a good man in a bad place."

"Thank you," said Barry sounding a little less unsure of himself. "Um, what was that language you spoke earlier?"

"This IS an IRISH conversation group," said Leonard.

Mick reached out like he intended to throttle Leonard, but then pulled back at the last second, looking like he had remembered something. "It was Yiddish. Whenever someone speaks in another language, he always responds in Yiddish."

"It's a nice language, more people should speak it," said Leonard, once again not looking up from his book.

Barry just laughed, plopping down and pulling out a history book. He didn't really read much. In fact, everyone had a better time at Irish conversation group that day watching Mick and Leonard argue, than they did speaking Irish.

Chapter Text

If this was what all clubs were like, he would never go to another one again, Barry decided as he had to listen to the thrum of too-loud music and watch other people have fun. Iris' friends had invited her out for the night to go to some sort of party — or so they had said. Joe had gotten wind of what would be going on, and Iris was ten seconds away from not being allowed to go slash maybe getting grounded. Barry then stepped in and asked Iris if whoever was taking THEM to the party had gotten there. His statement confused Joe — who did not know Barry to be a social butterfly — long enough to get them out the door with a promise to return before curfew. But when they had left together, they had to actually go out together — Iris refused to leave Barry by himself, and since neither of them had a phone, they couldn't get in touch with one of Barry's friends to see how they felt about hanging out for the night. Granted, Barry could have been having fun with Iris, but Iris's friends kept giving him weird looks whenever Iris pulled him on the dance floor to dance with them. Truth be told, Barry would rather be alone than have people side eye him all night and make things uncomfortable for everyone.

So, now, Barry was sitting at a bar drinking a coke, since he definitely wasn't old enough to drink and the last thing he needed on top of being miserable for the night was Joe finding out he was drinking under age (plus, he had the feeling he was going to end up as the designated driver anyway).

A glass of coke clinked against his causing Barry's eyes to follow up to where a dark haired young man took the seat next to him. "You look a little lonely, so I thought I would get you another drink."

"Um, thanks." So as not to be rude, Barry took a sip of the drink. He nearly choked as it definitely had whiskey in it, but there was nothing overly salty or anything that didn't taste like either coke or whiskey. Barry took another sip — it looked like he wasn't going to be the DD after all. "I'm Barry," he said once he swallowed.

"Raffi," said the dark haired guy, a bright smile lighting up his face. "Are you here with anyone?"

"My sister and her friends," said Barry gesturing toward the dance floor. He couldn't point Iris out, but as far as he knew she was still there.

Raffi's smile grew wider. "What, no girlfriend?"

"A nerd like me?" Barry asked with a smile of his own.

"I like nerds," said Raffi, scooting a little closer.

As he did his jacket fell open further, prompting Barry to spot the holster strapped around Raffi's shoulders and the gun tucked underneath his arm. Barry couldn't contain his jaw as it dropped straight open.

"I know, I know," said Raffi, as he followed Barry's eyes to where the gun was. "But I promise, it's just for protection — I never shoot first."

"What sort of protection could you need at a nightclub?" Barry asked. The sight of the gun had made him tense up a little and made him a little more alert. He looked back at the dance floor and finally spotted Iris waving to her. Iris waved back. As Barry turned back to Raffi, listening to him speak all the while, he noted two men, also wearing gun holsters and dressed in very nice suits. They were staring at Raffi and Barry.

Raffi shrugged. "My uncle and mother insist — family matters, you see. They think you can never be too careful."

An equation began to take shape in Barry's mind along the lines of "guns + bodyguards + more guns + family = mob." He tried not to panic. He failed spectacularly as the words, "I've got an STD," came out of his mouth.

Raffi blinked in surprise. "What?"

"I've... got a, you know," said Barry. He couldn't force the words out a second time as he began to flush bright red.

Raffi blinked at him a moment more before forcing out a laugh. "If you don't want to talk to me that's fine, but you don't have to say you've got VD when you don't."

"I'm sorry," said Barry. "I panicked."

Raffi only shrugged again. "People tend to around me." He stood up and reached inside his suit coat (Barry held his breath) for his wallet.

Before Raffi could pull out any money, Barry took his hand. "Hey — I really am sorry. It's just I'm sixteen and my foster dad's a cop," he said. "And there aren't many cute boys that come up and talk to me on a regular basis."

At that Raffi smirked. "You think I'm cute?"

Barry flushed. "Yeah, I think you're cute."

"Well listen," said Raffi. He downed his drink and placed the empty glass on the counter. "We don't have to do anything beyond tonight. All I'm looking for is a dance and some good conversation. Does that sound alright to you?"

Barry flushed at the offer. He took another sip of his JackNCoke and nodded. "Yeah — actually that sounds pretty great." He left his drink on the counter and let Raffi take his hand onto the dance floor.

It felt like something should have happened — something should have gone wrong, like Joe bursting into the club. But it didn't. Raffi was a good dancer, good enough that he got Barry to feel comfortable moving around. And they talked too! Raffi could coax the simplest details out of him, just making conversation as the night wore on.

Curfew came early in the West household though, and when Barry checked the time and realized they had an hour to get home, Raffi generously helped him find Iris. When he found Iris in tears he felt himself get angry.

"Iris, what happened?" Barry asked, trying to keep calm if for her sake.

"Shannon says she doesn't want to go home yet," said Iris, sniffling. "And I told her that we're gonna be late if we don't leave, like now, and the buses don't run this late — I don't think we have enough money for a cab home, and I'm still a little drunk so I don't want to call Dad." She wiped away her tears, smudging her mascara. Barry offered her a napkin from the bar he had stuffed in his pocket, and she dabbed a little bit more delicately before she blew her nose. "Sorry — I probably scared you when I brought out the waterworks."

"I can take you both home," said Raffi with an easy shrug. "We can even stop for some late night burgers if you want to help get you sobered up."

"Who's this?" Iris asked, tilting her head to the side.

Barry felt himself flush. "Oh, this is Raffi. We've sort of been dancing while you were with your friends."

Iris grinned at him and socked him in the arm. "Bartholomew, you dog."

Raffi burst out laughing and offered Iris his arm. "Miss Iris."

"Mr. Raffi," she said, taking his arm.

Raffi offered his other arm out for Barry. Barry linked up with them and was suddenly reminded of the Wizard of Oz as Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodsman skip down the Yellow Brick Road. He hummed "we're off to see the wizard," as they left the club. At first it was too loud for either Raffi or Iris to notice, but as they left the club proper and made their way outside, they could hear him humming. Iris began to hum as well, but after a few bars simply sang out, "we hear he is a wiz of a wiz if ever a wiz there was," and Raffi joined in. Barry, when he could stop laughing, joined in as well.

Raffi's two bodyguards brought a large SUV around and opened up the door so the three of them could climb into the middle section.

"Big Belly Burger," said Raffi. "Then to — I didn't get the address?"

Barry rattled off his address before he could really think about how it might be a bad idea for two mob bodyguards to have his address. The two men in the front seats didn't care though, they simply followed Raffi's directions — stopping at the closest Big Belly Burger to buy five single cheeseburgers before driving off to the tune of a GPS. When Barry let himself relax a little into eating his burger, he observed Raffi as the older boy leaned back into the center seat of the SUV. "I had a really great time tonight," he whispered.

Raffi looked up at him and smiled. "Me too."

Barry didn't quite know what he was doing — especially as he had never done it before. But as he leaned over, Raffi caught on pretty quickly, and soon they were kissing. They were really slow kisses, but nothing more than pressing their mouths together — no tongue or anything too fancy. Barry pulled back after a little bit and leaned against the headrest.

"What was that about?" Raffi asked, getting a little bit closer.

"I just had a really great time tonight," said Barry, unable to keep the smile off his lips. "And I wanted this to be how I remember my first kiss."

One of the bodyguards up front whispers, "Oh shit."

Iris whispers back, "Keep cool guys."

Raffi certainly seemed to pay them no mind as he leaned over and kissed Barry back. Since they had an audience, they didn't do much more than those small kisses. But when he and Iris got out of the car after arriving home (20 minutes early! Barry silently blessed the bodyguards), Raffi got out with them. He hugged Barry, his whole body feeling warm as it displaced the whole night are. When he pulled back he took Barry's face in his hands, and kissed him again. He pulled back with a smile. "We should do this again sometime, but maybe after you're eighteen."

Barry grinned at him. "I would really like that." He fished a pen from his pocket and wrote out his email address on Raffi's hand, some of it spilling out over his palm onto his wrist. "I don't have a phone — but you can reach me there if you want to talk — about whatever."

"You are too sweet," said Raffi, kissing him one more time. "I'll talk to you soon, then." Raffi climbed back into the car, giving a final wave to both of them.

Barry and Iris waved back before walking up the steps to the front door, Iris squealing the whole way, and Barry unable to stop grinning. The porch light went on as Barry fished out his keys and unlocked the door. Joe waited in the living room with a large mug balanced on his knee as he watched the news. He looked up at them as they took off their shoes, then looked back at the clock in confusion. "Early," he said, still a little perplexed. "I'm impressed. Who's car was that just now? I thought I saw an SUV and Shannon drove a sedan here, didn't she?"

"We wanted to leave a little early," said Barry without missing a beat. "So a friend's parent said they would drive us home."

Joe looked, again, surprised by this admission — as if he had expected to catch them in a lie. But he quickly wiped the surprise off of his face. "That's good — I'm glad you two did the responsible thing and caught a ride with someone else."

Iris yawned — a real yawn — and shivered a little. "Probably a good thing. I'm gonna grab a shower and then head to bed. Night Dad, night Barry."

As Iris jogged up the stairs, Barry took a few steps forward and wrapped Joe up in a hug. He was tall enough now, that he could wrap his arms all the way around without squeezing Joe too tightly. Joe huffed, still playing it like all of the air had gone out of him, then wrapped his arms around Barry as well. "You two are growing up too fast."

"Can't help it," said Barry. "Still love you, though."

"Love you too, Bear," said Joe, patting Barry's back as he released him. "Head on up to bed, kiddo — you look pretty beat too."

Barry nodded and headed up the stairs to his room. He stripped out of his clothes, bothering only to pull on a pair of pajama bottoms before slipping into bed. Barry felt oddly at ease with himself, as he laid back in bed and conjured Raffi's picture into his mind as he recounted the events of the night. The contentedness made him warm and drowsy, and before Barry knew it, he had fallen asleep with a smile on his face.

Chapter Text

Barry sat down in Organic Chemistry on the first day of class, spring semester of his freshman year. Well, technically even if it was his first year at Central City University, he was a junior, because they had transferred over all of the credits from his associates degree. So, y’know, he was READY for Organic Chemistry.

A girl sat a seat away from him and looked up, her dangly earrings brushing her leather jacket as she did, when Barry sat down and pulled out his notebook for class. "You lost, frosch?" she asked, not meaning to be mean as she studied him for a moment.

Barry grinned. "Nope, right where I'm supposed to be."

She opened her mouth to say something more, but just then the professor, Dr. Beach, walked in and began class. He started with a round of standard introductions, having everyone give their names, as he checked his roster against what everyone said. Dr. Beach frowned for a minute when he got to Barry, but said a bright hello to the girl sitting next to him. Barry learned her name was Shawna. After the introductions they spent no more than the next ten minutes on the syllabus before Dr. Beach began his first lecture.

Barry began to take down notes, his hand flying across the page while he took down what the professor was saying and writing up on the board. He noticed, close to the end of the lecture, that Shawna was frowning at the problem Dr. Beach had written on the board, muttering to herself and going back and forth between the start and finish, trying to figure out how he had gotten from point a to point be. When she gave up on the equation, she began to write but had missed a few points and seemed to realize it. Barry slid down into the seat next to her so that he might still comfortably write but Shawna could also have a look at his notes.

Shawna nodded at him in appreciation and began to take down the notes. When she caught up and could spare a minute, she looked back at the equation that had troubled her before. Clicking her fingers after looking at Barry's work for a moment, she went back and completed her own, but it looked a little different than what Barry had written out. Shawna pulled a sticky note pad from her other side and wrote out "doesn't follow" with two arrows pointing to the spots where he had not correctly translated the problem and stuck it onto his notebook. Barry studied it for a few seconds, and then decided to work on it later, so he didn't fall behind either.

Dr. Beach continued until almost the end of class, stopping five minute before their scheduled end to say, "I'll take pity on you all just this once and let you discuss picking lab partners. I'll want you to report who you've settled on working with by the beginning of next class — send me an email with your pairs, so I can enter it into the grade book. And no, you may not work alone." When some people groaned, Barry among them, he said, "Yes, I know I'm incredibly cruel to prepare you for your future in this way. Take some time, talk among yourselves. I have office hours for the next hour and a half if you have anything you wish to discuss. See you next class." With a jaunty wave, Dr. Beach collected his materials and headed out the door.

Shawna nudged Barry. "Don't work well in pairs?"

Barry shrugged. "I always had people pick me because they wanted me to do all the work."

Shawna snorted. "Well, everyone here's in the same boat, kiddo; we’ve all had people pick us because we’re the smart ones. But, you don't make it in O-Chem without some serious effort. If people aren’t doing their share of the group work, they deserve to fail." She side eyed him. "I think you'd make an okay lab partner, but let's get coffee and talk about some stuff first."

Barry blinked and watched Shawna pack up her things. "Are you gonna interview me to be your lab partner?"

"And you should interview me," said Shawna, as she picked up her bag, now full of notebook, pens and a stick note pad. "That way you avoid the whole 'one person does all the work' scenario. Wait, do you have class right after this?"

Barry shook his head as he stuffed his notebook and textbook and pencil into his backpack. "I'm good to get coffee. I guess I just never thought about interviewing someone to be partners in class." He grinned at her. "I like it. I'll have to tell Iris."

"Girlfriend?" Shawna asked.

"Foster sister," said Barry, no matter how much he wished Iris actually was his girlfriend, she wasn't, and his intro to Gender and Queer Studies class had taught him that it was her choice, and he had to learn to be okay with that.

They talked on the way to this one coffee shop that Shawna knew of, which was less than a mile from campus, but was tucked into a little spot so that many people from campus didn't come by. The owners liked it that way, Shawna reported, so Barry had better only entrust the worthy. Shawna was an only child to her father Tomas, and planned on becoming a doctor. When not becoming a doctor, she participated in fencing club, which she was only sort of good at, and regularly went dancing. "You gotta do stuff to rest your mind," said Shawna as she sipped her cappuccino.

"People always just said study hard," said Barry. He had a mocha, because he liked the almost chocolate flavor.

"People don't have a three point seven, Bartholomew," said Shawna. "Or a Kord Scholarship for undergraduate AND medical school."

"Really?" Barry asked, grinning at her, and ignoring the use of his full name, which he already regretted telling her. "That's amazing!"

"Thank you," said Shawna.

They talked about Barry's foster family, but didn't discuss WHY Barry had a foster family, which Barry appreciated. Shawna quizzed him on what classes he had taken (a couple humanities, a different chemistry course, and criminology), the ones he was taking (another criminal justice course, a math class, creative writing, which he had to take as a bargain for his adviser getting him into O-Chem, O-Chem, and conditioning).

"So what do you wanna be when you grow up?" asked Shawna.

"The original plan was a detective," said Barry. Then he gestured to himself. "But as you can see I am not the muscliest guy in the world. Plus, I like science more than I like detecting, so I want to be a CSI."

"That's pretty admirable," said Shawna.

They stayed and talked to one another until Shawna had to leave for her next class. They agreed to meet the next day to do the lab since they both had some time free. After coffee, Barry walked to the library to get some studying in, and as he walked, he turned their meeting over in his mind. He decided that he liked Shawna — she was nice but didn't take any shit. She seemed a little hesitant to make a deeper connection, but Barry understood that. Too many people had judged him for what had happened with his parents.

They met the next day, working out the lab components and recording their findings. Barry found himself drawn into deep discussion afterwards talking about the results and applications, Shawna holding one half of the conversation instead of things falling thru as they normally might have.

"This was good," said Shawna as they cleaned up after themselves and packed up to leave. "I don't normally have this time open, though. Do you have your schedule with you and we can compare notes on when to meet?"

"Uh... I don't really have something written out," said Barry, scratching the back of his neck.

Shawna rolled her eyes but shook her head playfully as a smile broke out across his face. "Of course not, you're still a freshman and determined to waste those brain cells on stuff you can write down." She checked her phone. "You have anywhere to be tonight?"

"Not that I know of," said Barry, cracking a small grin.

"C'mon then," said Shawna looping their arms together. "Let's get you a planner. the school shuttle leaves in five."

The shuttle takes them to a few places — one of which is a nearby strip mall. Shawna shows him a stationary shop, full of in house printed cards and pens and the smell of dried glue, which Iris would love. Barry got a few cards for her, and on Shawna's recommendation a simple, black covered planner (which was half off since the year had started three weeks ago), a packet of colored pens, and a stick note pad where he could make a to-do list. She talked him out of a plushie of a dragon holding a taco, though, and said if Barry really wanted it, he should sleep on it and come back later. After the stationary shop, Shawna led the way to a pizza joint called Pi5.

"What I usually do," said Shawna as Barry smoothed a crease into his new planner. "Is put the schedule in the first month of the semester — like stuff I do every week and when my professors have office hours. In the other months I'll put special events, stuff to look forward to. Then the weekly pages are for like due dates and appointments, stuff like that. The stickies are good because then I can sort of see what all I have to do on any given day, not just what the syllabus says is due."

Barry tilted his head at her explanation. "You hacked being on time."

"Reminders on your phone help, but nothing really beats the planner, not for me anyway," said Shawna, as they made a little room for their server to put their pizza down. They thanked the server and then rearranged to fit their papers back on the table. Shawna took a slice and chewed on a large chunk while she watched Barry fill in his weekly schedule. "Oh, make sure to leave some space for study group. Frank usually sends out a thing so people can coordinate meet up times."

"What study group?" Barry asked.

Shawna raised an eyebrow. "Listen, even if you're smart, you gotta go to study group. Your natural prodigious-ness will only take you so far. If you want to pass a class like O-Chem you go to study group, you go to office hours when you don't understand something." She nudged his foot with hers. "And you can always ask me or the others if you need help."

Barry wrinkled his nose. He had never worked well in groups — a product of being one of the smart kids, he had always thought. Everyone either thought their ideas were the best, or picked the smart kids so they didn't have to do the work. But Shawna was smart, and she was a senior. She had a 3.7 GPA and a Kord Scholarship and was probably going to have a good pick of what medical school she went to. He decided to trust her. "Okay," he said, nodding.

Barry decided to leave filling in due dates for later, and they both worked on other homework and chatted as they ate their pizza. After they had finished eating, and after it was no longer polite to continue loitering, they packed up and made their way back to the shuttle stop. "Can I ask something?" Barry said after a little while with nothing but air between them.

"Sure?" said Shawna. "I might not answer."

"I don't think it's anything like that," said Barry, shaking his head. "But, it's cool if you don't want to. I just was kind of wondering, why are you being so nice to me? Like, not to assume that you're not a nice person, but most people wouldn't take on a partner who couldn't figure out an equation in class or keep their own schedule straight. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't."

Shawna laughed at him. It wasn't mean or anything, almost like Barry had just told a joke. It still stung a little, but Shawna bumped him with her hip somehow making him feel better. "Okay," she said after a few moments of laughter. “I'm gonna tell you two things. The first is that I don't help people out of niceness or anything like that. I help people because I am not alone in this world — other people exist and I exist with them, and I think we have a duty to each other to. I think I was a freshman once, and I was lost, and I had people who helped me, like I'm helping you — like I'm helping other people too. And I expect, and I hope, that one day, when you get the chance, you're gonna help people too. Not just in college either, but in life, you know? Like when someone's struggling, you don't make a big deal out of it, you just help them."

"Hmm," said Barry. He had never thought of helping people, or charity, in that sense before.

"And the second," said Shawna. "Is that even if you got that equation wrong, it helped me see what I was missing. We can all learn together, B. Just you watch, that's how study group works most of the time."

They rode back on the shuttle in a comfortable silence, reading textbooks and marking them with notes.

When Barry got back to his dorm, he said hi to his roommate and flopped down on his bed for a bit, his brain melting a little from philosophy and science. He rubbed his eyes and got up an went to his desk, pulling out his syllabi and his new planner and pens, and he began to write down all of his assignments for the term. As he wrote a thought struck him, and Barry fished out his phone. To Iris he wrote, "Hey, what do you get someone for being a good person/mentor?"

"B or G or NB?" she asked in return.

"G," Barry told her. “Pretty sure, anyway.”

"Thank you card and nice chocolate."

Barry had thank you cards which he had bought for Iris. She wouldn't mind him using one for the occasion, but the nice chocolate necessitated another trip out on the school shuttle. It was worth it for the way Shawna smiled and tried to play off his gift by rolling her eyes. and for the way she said, "Thank you, B. That means a lot."

Chapter Text

Barry practically vibrated in the back of Joe's car.

"Now you're going to call me when you get into Los Angeles," said Joe from up in the front seat. "The very second you get out of that gate, understand?"

"Yes, Joe," said Barry.

"I mean it, Bear," said Joe. His hands tightly gripped the steering wheel so that his knuckles were white.

For whatever reason, Joe did not like Eliot Spencer.

But Barry loved spending time with his cousin. Their grandmothers had been sisters, and their fathers hadn't been all that close, but Eliot had reached out to Henry after he had gotten out of the army, and usually came around for Christmas, Easter, and at least once per summer if he could manage. Now-a-days he usually only came around once per summer. This summer though, he had settled down in L.A. and asked if Barry could come and visit him. And since Barry was just home from college, it seemed like the logical thing. Eliot had even managed to convince Joe, when Joe was normally loathe to let Eliot into the house when he was picking Barry (and inevitably Iris) up to go to the state fair or a rodeo or a baseball game. They had had a long conversation about it, and it seemed that Eliot had won out in the end. And now Barry was flying to L.A. (not that Joe would have been able to stop Barry, since Barry was legally an adult and he had been traveling for years now without permission. But, still, it was nice to have a blessing after a fashion).

"Yes, Joe," said Barry, keeping his eyes as wide as possible without it being weird, face blank but eager. "I'll have to wait until I get to Eliot though. He'll have a phone I can use."

Barry could see Iris grin in the front seat — her reflection in the windshield was blinding. Joe, naturally, didn't allow them to have cell phones. Barry had one anyway, and so did Iris — Joe just didn’t know about it. The very mention of Eliot made him even more tense though.

Somehow, they made it to the airport, through check in, and to security without Joe having a heart attack from the stress. Barry hugged Iris first, and then went to Joe. As Barry hugged his foster father goodbye, he made sure to say, "I'll call you from L.A."

"Be safe, son!" said Joe as Barry walked to join the line for security.

The security line took ages since they had an international airport in Central, but Barry spent most of it talking with another kid his age, flying out to Boston for a band camp. He removed his shoes and rested them on the carry on when there were about ten people in front of him and made sure to drain his water bottle of fluid. Barry made it through the scanners without any issues and waited for Pradeep so they could trek into the airport together and keep talking about StarGate SG1.

"Can I help you with something?" one of the TSA agents asked, as he saw Barry loitering.

Barry did his best I'm-a-nice-white-boy smile and said, "I'm just waiting for my friend," as he pointed to Pradeep.

The TSA agent blinked at him a little but then motioned to the guy who was current giving Pradeep a pat down, and at last they let Pradeep through.

As soon as they both had their shoes on and were well away from security, Pradeep let out a deep sigh. "I hate TSA."

Barry didn't quite know what to say to that, so he just said, "I know. I'm sorry, man."

Pradeep shook his head and tried to give Barry a smile, but he still looked a little shaken. Barry tried to fix things the only way he knew how — with food. He and Pradeep stopped for smoothies, before they had to part ways to different gates, Barry's treat. Barry ended up having to jog the rest of the way as he was cutting it close to his departure time. He was the absolute last person to go through the door before it closed, and was still panting as he plopped down next to a curly haired man in his seat.

The curly haired man frowned at him, but Barry ignored that as he caught his breath. The curly haired man also frowned at Barry's smoothie, which is when Barry knew to be suspicious of him (not in the "this man is dangerous" sort of way, but just in a "this man is probably a judgmental prick" kind of way). Luckily, if he was a prick, at least he was a quiet one, and only addressed the flight attendant when she came around for drinks to ask for travel bottle of whiskey. Barry ordered a sandwich wrap because he was hungry and a sprite.

The non-stop flight was pretty short, only four hours, and so Barry still had thirty minutes toward the end of the flight where he had nothing to do after finishing the mystery novel he had been reading. So all Barry had to do was fidget in his seat, waiting for the pilot to announce their descent.

"You know, jiggling your leg's not gonna make the flight go any faster," said the curly haired man, glancing over at him.

"No, but it will annoy you, so that's good enough for me," said Barry with a bright smile.

The curly haired man only snorted and muttered something under his breath with a distinctive Boston lit.

"You also shouldn't assume that you're the only person here who speaks Irish, ," said Barry, sticking his tongue out at the man.

The curly haired man blinked at him. "," he retorted, "I really don't care if you understand Irish or not." But the curly haired man now had a smile on his face where he was all sour before. "Where'd a midwesterner learn how to speak Irish anyway?"

"I go to an Irish conversation group at my library. And my Mom used to speak it with me," said Barry, buckling his seat belt as the sign came on. "My Gran is from Ireland, and Granda's family immigrated in the 1800s. We still have family over in Ireland." Not that any of them spoke to Barry anymore, after he had refused to renounce his father. Barry would probably never forget the look on his grandfather's face at his mother's funeral.

"Sorry for your loss," said the curly haired man, a little more gently than he had been before.

"Thanks," said Barry. "And I'm sorry for yours too."

That made the curly haired man narrow his eyes in suspicion. "What makes you say that?"

"Generally the only people who know I've lost someone after fifty words of dialogue are either shrinks or people who've lost someone themselves," said Barry with a little shrug. He looked the curly haired man in the eye and said, "You really, really don't seem like a shrink."

The man laughed. "Well, you're not wrong." He held out a hand, "Nate Ford."

"Barry Allen." Barry shook his hand firmly while looking Nate in the eye, just as Joe had taught him.

"So, Barry Allen, you want to be a detective with that mind of yours?" Nate asked.

"A CSI," said Barry.

From there on, Nate was a little nicer, engaging in polite conversation with Barry as they landed in L.A. It only got a little awkward as they began walking out of the terminal and found they were both going the same way.

To Barry's surprise when they came out of the secure part of the airport Eliot was waiting for him with a sign that read "Barry Allen." Eliot grinned at him, and then frowned. Barry realized he was no longer looking at him, but at Nate.

"Eliot," said Nate as they reached Barry's cousin. "I had no idea you had family coming to visit."

"Probably because I didn't tell you," said Eliot, frown still firmly in place. "Bear, he give you any trouble?"

Barry shook his head. "No. We were just talking about Irish stuff that's all."

"Oh Nate, there you are!" The three of them turned to see a beautiful dark haired woman in a blue dress striding toward them. "Hello Eliot, and you are?"

Barry turned to her and beamed, "Barry Allen. It's very nice to meet you, ma'am."

The woman waved her hand. "Oh, pish, none of this ma'am stuff. Though it is nice to meet a gentleman." She linked their arms together and started him walking out of the airport. "Now, I'm Sophie Devereaux—"

"This week," Barry heard Eliot mutter.

"And you may call me Sophie," Sophie continued undeterred. "Now how do you know Nate and Eliot?"

"Um, well, I just met Nate on the plane but Eliot's my cousin," said Barry, looking back at Eliot. Eliot was doing a fine job of trying not to look angry. He was also failing at not looking angry, though, despite his fine attempt.

"Oh!" Sophie grinned at him. "You must know all sorts of interesting things about Eliot then. Tell me, where did he learn the growly face?"

Barry flushed a little. "Oh, um, sorry. I don't have like embarrassing stories about him or anything. Eliot's the cool cousin." He was definitely the coolest cousin Barry had, given how he had been the only one to stand by Barry and Henry through the whole aftermath of Nora's death. Even aside from that, Barry realized he had never heard about Eliot's childhood, or much of anything really, aside from what Eliot told him. He had assumed that was because Henry had not known Eliot until he was an adult, but now Barry paused to wonder.

"Stop tryin' to corrupt the kid into givin' you information," said Eliot, coming to walk on Barry's other side. "You hungry Bear?"

"I could eat," said Barry. Which was the definite truth—even if he had had those sandwich wraps and the sprite on the plane.

"To be young again," said Nate, shaking his head. "Sophie, please tell me you drove yourself here?"

"Well of course!" said Sophie, with a bright smile. "I didn't know Eliot was bringing a bright, impressionable, young man into our lives until we bumped into one another."

Here, Nate rolled his eyes and pulled Sophie away from Barry. "Eliot, take a few days off."

"Planning on it," said Eliot.

"So he's your boss?" Barry asked as they parted company from Nate and Sophie.

"We're...partners in a firm," said Eliot, slowly.

"Like a law firm?" Barry asked.

"Sorta," said Eliot. He pressed his mouth together in a neutral expression. "None of us are lawyers but we consult on legal matters—that is when a corporation or somethin's doing something they shouldn't we help people find legal options to... to help'em out."

"Oh," said Barry, blinking. "Well, that's cool. How'd you find that kind of job?" As far as Barry knew Eliot only ever worked security jobs, with some kind of delivery work, after getting out of the army.

"It was a security job," said Eliot, mumbling a little. "Then I started, ah, cross training on some other stuff."

"That's cool," said Barry again, feeling distinctly like he was missing a part of the story. "You know, you don't have to miss work while I'm here."

"We're not working any cases right now anyway," said Eliot.

"But if one comes up," said Barry. "I dunno, I goof off at your place or at your office or something like that."

Eliot rolled his eyes and pulled Barry in for a one armed hug. "My job is not more important than you kiddo. I haven't seen you in a year. For the next few days, all I wanna do is watch a baseball game, take you fishing, and play some paintball."

Naturally, the next day Eliot got called into work by someone very insistent named Hardison. Barry only knew his name because Eliot kept grumbling, "Dammit Hardison!" When they arrived at the office, Eliot actually said that to the man’s face.

"Hey!" said the young man raising his hands in the air. Hardison did not look much older than Barry. "It's not my fault that we get clients when we get clients. And it's not my fault that you're such an essential member of the crew. What's up, man, Alec Hardison, nice to meet'cha."

Barry shook Hardison's hand, and he couldn't help but grin as he did. Barry tried to keep that smile up as a young, blonde woman appeared over his shoulder and actual-facts sniffed him. "Uh, hi?" he said, turning to face her.

The woman squinted at him. "You don't smell like Eliot."

"Parker!" said Eliot a little appalled.

Barry paused and then leaned over and audibly sniffed like Parker. He blinked and said, "You smell like butterscotch."

Parker tilted her head to the side and grinned. She threw an arm over Barry's shoulder and said, "I like you." She tried to lead him into what appears to be a conference room, but Eliot blocked their path. "Eliot, c'mon, don't be such a grumpy gills."

"Parker, Barry is not sitting in on our meeting," said Eliot.

"Why not? He's old enough," said Parker, her face furrowed in confusion.

"He's nineteen, Parker," said Eliot, his large, warm hand slipping onto Barry's shoulder.

"You were eighteen when you joined the army," said Parker, blinking slightly. "And I was, like, thirteen when —"

"Not now," said Eliot. His voice hummed gently, like he was trying to reassure everyone that he's not trying to be mean. "Bear, c'mon. I’ll steal Hardison's Xbox and set up in my office."

"Be gentle please!" said Hardison from inside the conference room.

Eliot escorted Barry to his office, only making a detour to Hardison’s office to grab the Xbox and a few games. Barry sat down in Eliot's computer chair and looks up at his older cousin.

"Now, uh, I've got to be there for the client meeting, but I'll be back in a bit, and maybe we can go get some lunch or something," said Eliot, rucking his fingers through his hair.

Barry watched him go, trying to hold in his voice. When Eliot is in the threshold, Barry managed to force out, "Eliot."

Eliot turned back to him. "Yeah, Bear?"

"Is there something you're keeping from me?" Barry asked. Since they came into the office, it had seemed like there was something Eliot was keeping from him, or directing him away from.

Eliot sighed for a moment, his eyes trailing against the floor. After a moment he looked up and said, "Yeah, Bear, there's something I'm keeping you from. But I can't... I can't explain just now, okay? I'll come and get you when we're done and then we'll talk."

Barry was not quite sure why, but he felt like his heart is breaking. It shouldn't be — Eliot's still his cousin, and he still loves Barry. But the way Eliot couldn't meet his eye, and the way Joe had always disliked Eliot coming around, the way Eliot didn't want Barry to talk to his coworkers (or maybe it was how he didn't want them to talk to Barry) — the whole thing left a bad taste in Barry's mouth. He turned off the the Xbox and the computer monitor and crept out into the hall. He snuck past the conference room and out to the hall where he found the stairway and headed up to the roof.

Barry sat out looking at the cityscape, feeling the Los Angeles heat and smog bear down on him. Thankfully he had a water bottle and his phone just in case he got, like, heat stroke, or something. So, Barry sipped on his water and watches the city move under the summer sun. After he's sat and watched for a while, though he doesn't know how long, Parker popped out of a hatch and somersaults onto the roof gravel. "I found you!" she declared.

"Yeah," said Barry. "You found me."

She plopped down next to him with a mighty sigh. "Roofs are great, aren't they? You can see targets for miles around."

"Targets?" Barry asked. He tilted his head as he looked her way. "What targets?"

"Uh..." Parker inflated her cheeks and then let the air seep out. "Like that one," she said pointing at a Target sign, which had its trademark logo in the center of a giant billboard.

"Oh." Barry felt a grin crack across his face as he watched her point out the different ones. "Yeah, I guess there are a lot. Do you like shopping at Target then? My friend Iris swears by it. She said it's better than Walmart, but I don't really see the difference."

"Um, I don't really like shopping that much." Parker shook her head. "I just kind of like to imagine hitting those Targets, you know?"

"Like with a bow and arrow?" Barry asked. He remembered reading a book where some demigods had done that on a cross country trip. "Or like with a rifle?" Barry didn't know how to shoot a bow and arrow, but he was decent with a rifle.

"I've never shot a rifle," said Parker, with a shrug. "But I've used a crossbow before. Crossbows are fun."

"Eliot could teach you a rifle," said Barry. "He taught me."

Parker frowned and opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off when the roof access door slammed out and Eliot charged out. “Parker!”

“I didn’t say anything!” she said, bending over backwards to look at him. “We were just talking about Targets.”

Eliot leveled a long hard look at her. “The store.”

Parker leveled a long hard look back at him. “Yes?”

Eliot sighed. “Go, Parker.”

Parker only shrugged and skipped off out of the roof access door.

Barry ducked his head as Eliot's long, hard look came his way. "Sorry for running off," he said.

"Are you really?" Eliot asked, a frown overtaking him. "Barry, you ain't gotta be happy, but I sure do not want you lying to me."

Before Barry could stop himself he said, "Like how you're lying to me?"

"What?" said Eliot the anger draining from his face as quickly as it had come. "What do you mean?"

"Okay, so you're not lying, but you're not telling me the truth," said Barry. He sighed and pulled his knees up to his chest. When that proved too hot after a moment, he stretched out again. "I can tell something's going on, Eliot. Please, won't you trust me?"

Eliot raked a hand through his hair and said, "Bar, I wanna trust you, but I'm not sure you're ready for the truth about my life — about the things that I've done."

"What does what you've done have to do with your job now?" Barry asked getting up from his seat. "Is it illegal, what you do?"

Eliot's pause made every muscle in Barry's body clench.

"Oh my god!" said Barry, frozen to his spot. No wonder Joe didn't want Eliot coming around. But, this was Eliot — Eliot who was kind to animals and Eliot who never raised a hand or his voice to Barry. "But, you said you help people, was that a lie?"

"No!" said Eliot, shaking his head. "We do help people. Because sometimes the law rules in favor of people who hurt, cheat, steal. All we do is try to help the people who got scammed by a system that works in favor of money and power." Eliot sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Barry, not all laws are good. I'm sure even Joe would tell you that. Now, we can absolutely continue this discussion, but let's get out of the heat. You'll keel over in weather like this."

Barry pulls his backpack up and walks over to the roof door which Eliot holds open for him. The rush of air conditioning hits him right away making him shiver at the change in temperature. He doesn't say much because he's still turning the whole thing over in his mind about Eliot being a lawbreaker — about Eliot working against the law to help people. It was all a lot to take in at once. They go back down to the offices of Leverage, Inc., and Eliot lets them inside.

"Oh, Eliot," says the woman called Sophie with a wink in Barry's direction. "It's our turn to go and get lunch, dear. What's your poison, Barry? We're getting Chinese."

"Um, pan fried noodles and potstickers?" said Barry.

"Sophie, now's not a great time," said Eliot. He grumbled a little around his words, but softly.

"It's the perfect time," said Sophie gently, but with a firm look at Eliot. She leaned over and whispered something in his ear.

Eliot huffed at whatever she told him, but said to Barry, "Do you just want a pan fried noodle and dumplings, or do you need something more?"

Barry's stomach gurgled.

Eliot nodded. "Something more. Got it. I'll get you something you’ll like."

Barry watched him go and then slumped down into one of the chairs in the waiting room. He probably could have gone back to Eliot’s office, but the lobby chairs seemed more like the kind one might slump into than Eliot’s nice office chair. Barry could hear murmurs from the conference room. Normally he might have tried to clue in — to figure out what they were talking about based on the snippets of conversation he heard. Instead, Barry picked a spot on the wall, right about the founder's painting, to meditate to the thought of Eliot hiding this whole part of his life from Barry. And no matter how many times he turned it over in his mind, he just couldn't get his head around it. Oh, Barry could understand that Eliot had done bad things, and maybe even that he had wanted to keep it from Barry as a young man. But Barry was nineteen now! He had been traveling on his own for two years, and saw the world in far from black and white. He was even friends with criminals! Like Mick and Len and Clyde and Mark.

But then, Barry realized, hadn't he kept his relationships with the others a secret because he was worried about how Eliot would react?

Barry sighed and rubbed his temples.

"Head hurt, ruifíneach?" Nate asked, sitting down next to him.

"Just thinking about me," said Barry, dropping his hands into his lap. He felt restless, so for lack of something better to do, he began to twiddle his thumbs. "And Eliot. And what we do and don't know about each other."

Nate nodded along. "How old are you Barry?" he asked after a moment. "Eighteen?"

"Nineteen," said Barry.

"Nineteen," repeated Nate, still nodding. "You know, you've probably seen a lot more than most nineteen-year-olds would. I, uh, hope you don't mind, but we did a background check on you. A lot came up."

"About my mom," said Barry, his eyes training on Nate's face for Nate's reaction.

"About your mom," said Nate with a shrug. "About your runaway attempts, which seem to be mostly chasing down unexplained events. School records — congratulations on the A plus in organic chemistry, by the way. I hear that's a tough one."

In spite of the situation, Barry grins, especially as Shawna's winking face comes to mind. "Thanks. I had a good study partner."

"But, Barry, in spite of all of the things you have seen and done, you are still nineteen," said Nate. His blue eyes caught Barry's brown and held them in place. "There's still so much of the world you have to see. And Eliot? He's thirty-four, nearly twice your age. And by the time he was nineteen, I'm getting the impression that he had a lot more to regret than you do now. Compound that, then, by a few more years, and maybe you can see why your cousin doesn't want to tell you all the terrible things that he's done."

Barry huffed, feeling his shoulders sag. He ruffled his hair. "It's not that I wanna know everything. He... he doesn't have to tell me everything. I just... I wish he had told me something. You know? Like, I have enough people in my life who say they love me, but they don't trust me, or they call me crazy behind my back." Unwillingly, Barry starts to cry, the tears leaking down his face in an unseemly mess. If he was trying to make himself seem like an adult, Barry surmises he's failed miserably. "I didn't want Eliot to be another one of those people."

Nate began to nod again, and he thumped Barry on the back before pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. "Then may I suggest you tell Eliot that, in so many words, when he returns? Blow your nose, kid."

Barry wiped at his face and then blew his nose. He held the handkerchief out in front of him for a moment, wondering if he should offer it back to Nate, only to have Nate pluck it out of his hand and stuff it back into his pocket. "I did have a kid of my own, you know," said Nate, softly, as he stood up. "I'm used to other people's snot."

"Thanks," said Barry. As he got a good look of Nate in front of the portrait he said, "Um... is that you?"

Nate looked over his shoulder and then back at Barry. "Ah, no. Now, I think Hardison has some questions to pester you with about Sasquatch, if you'd like to indulge him."

Nate walked back into the conference room, and Barry followed. Hardison had Barry's blog pulled up on his giant monitors and brightened when he sees Barry come in. "Hey! How do I get into a Squatch hunt? You say you have to know a guy, and I know you!"

Barry laughed, ducking his head. "Um, well, I can give you the coordinator's email, but you realize we just hike through the woods for four or five days right?"

Hardison's shoulder dropped out. "Awww, man! Why on earth do you make CAMPING sound so exciting? That's not right, man."

Barry laughed even harder. "Well, where did you think we were gonna hunt for Sasquatch? Disneyland?"

"Oo!!" Parker perked up from where she was in her seat. "Nate, can we go to Disneyland?"

Nate rolled his eyes. "You can go to Disneyland whenever you like, Parker."

"But it's no fun if you don't have a family!" Parker widened her eyes and began to pout.

Nate stared her down for a minute before he said, "Ask Sophie."

"What are we asking me?" Sophie asked as she strode (yes, strode) back into the room holding a brown paper bag. Eliot walked in behind her with two bags in his hands, both much larger than Sophie's.

"Can we go to Disneyland?" Parker asked, bounding over to where they set down the Chinese.

Sophie tilted her head to one side and a bright smile overtook her. "You know, I've never been. I think it sounds like a great idea! We should go while Barry's here too. That would be fun, wouldn't it?"

"Um, didn't you guys have a client?" Barry asked, feeling Eliot hover over his shoulder.

"It's a job here in town," said Sophie. "Worst case scenario takes maybe two days to resolve?"

Eliot scoffed, "Sophie, please don't talk about worst case scenarios. That always makes everything go wrong. And uh, Bear, can I talk to you alone, bud?"

"Sure," said Barry with an easy nod.

He followed Eliot out of the conference room through the now familiar hallway to Eliot's office. Eliot closed the door behind him, and Barry flopped down into one of the chairs Eliot had in front of his desk. Barry studied his cousin, while Eliot composed himself.

Eliot clenched and unclenched his fists a time or two, and even opened and closed his mouth a few times. "You gotta understand, Bear, I don't wanna keep things from you — not everything mind," said Eliot, training his eyes on Barry. "There's some stuff I wanna keep back, yeah, but... it's awful stuff, man. You hear about evil in the world, and I've done my share of it. To talk about it, 's hard because I'm gone from it. They're things I've done, but not who I am now. But to tell you I'm a hitter — a thief — it opens up all of that to be examined. I guess..." Eliot's eyes look strangely wet as he composes a final thought. "I love you man. I didn't want you seeing me different because of the things I'm trying to atone for."

Barry leapt out of his seat and wrapped his arms around Eliot in a second. Eliot squeezed him hard in return burying his face in Barry's shoulder, Barry thought because Eliot didn't want anyone to watch him cry. "I love you," said Barry. "And I don't have to know all of the horrible things. But it sounds like you're doing some good things now. And I just wish... I wish I had known. I just don't want you keeping things from me, because of me."

Eliot pulled back, his wet eyes hard in a second. "What do you mean because of you?"

Barry shrugged. "People think I'm crazy, you know? They don't say it to my face, they don't say the words, but it's there. And because of that, they're always keeping things from me. Or it... it feels that way." Barry shrugged. "I just don't want to feel that way with you."

"Never," said Eliot, taking Barry's face in his hands. "I will never think of you that way, Barry. You're one of the smartest people I know — you were the smartest 'till I met Hardison, and I expect you to take that as a challenge. But I love you, man, and I would never keep something back because I thought that. Okay?"

Barry nodded. "Okay." And then, because the first one had been nice, he reached out to hug Eliot again.

Eliot squeezed him tight, and then thumped him on the back before pulling away. "We good, man?"

"We're good," said Barry with a smile.

"Then let's go eat." They might have walked arm in arm except the tight hallways of the office did not allow for it. But they cut through the kitchen and Eliot grabbed two beers, handing one to Barry.

Nate frowned at them both as they came in and Barry took a swig from his bottle. "Young man, nineteen is not twenty-one."

"Come off it, Nate," said Eliot, rolling his eyes. "Kid's on private property, he can have a beer if I say he can."

"And you know, America's one of the only places with such a high drinking age," said Sophie, as she sipped a glass of wine. She poured out a second glass and passed it around to Parker, who looked a little surprised but accepted. "One beer certainly won't hurt him."

Hardison glanced at his orange soda and must have suddenly felt immature, because he turned to Eliot and asked, "Uh, is there another one of those?"

"Yeah, yeah," said Eliot waving him off.

"Well, speaking of criminal activities," said Barry, licking his lips.

"Yes, we are thieves," said Nate.

"But we're doing it for great causes," said Sophie waving a finger at him.

"I kind of figured that out," said Barry with a nod. "But that's not what I was going to say. Um, you guys sort of are not the first criminals I've met?"

All eyes of Leverage, Inc. feel to Barry, and he squirmed in his seat.

"Like who?" Eliot asked.

"Like, I was foster brothers with Clyde Mardon for a little bit," said Barry, taking a container of noodles, and opening it. "And we've kept in touch. And then there was this Irish conversation group at the library—"

"You mentioned that and I didn't immediately think, 'breeding ground for criminal activity,'" said Nate.

"Well, but Mick Rory is Irish," said Barry slowly. "And we live next to the same library."

Eliot swore with words which alone would have Joe attempting to wash out his mouth with soap. "MICK RORY? The arsonist, Mick Rory?"

"Lenny—Leonard Snart comes by too?" said Barry. "He just speaks Yiddish when anyone tries to talk Irish with him. And uh—"

"Bear," said Eliot leveling him a devastating stare. "You're supposed to be a good kid, and you know how many criminals?"

"Just one more!" said Barry. "Um, but it's Raffi Darbiniyan?"

Nate raised a glass to him. "Not many people who can make friends with the heir of a criminal empire. Well done, Barry."

"No!" said Eliot pointing a finger at Nate. "No, not well done. You're playing with fire, Barry."

"Technically, he's playing with an arsonist," said Parker. "Who... plays with fire."

They dissolve in a playful banter and bickering, Eliot only partly upset that he's not the only criminal Barry knows. Barry could only duck his head and grin as it unfolded around him.

Chapter Text

Barry jiggled his leg as he waited outside of the Congressional Chamber. They had recessed, but were due to being readmitted soon, and he couldn’t get the jitters out of his system.

“You alright there?”

The familiar drawl made Barry blink and look up. Eliot stood before him with a giant grin on his face. “Eliot!” Barry said, a little too loudly. They looked around and saw no one present, so Barry stood and hugged his cousin.

“Hey kiddo,” said Eliot into their hug. “Heard you were appearing before a committee today. Thought I’d come and show some support.” He pulled away and looked off to the right. “Yes, Hardison, right outside of the chamber. Why… why did you two bring Louisa?! Why did Nate and Sophie bring Millie?!”

“Hey take a deep breath,” said Barry as Eliot started to turn a little red.

Instead, Eliot took his com out of his ear and put it into his pocket. He huffed a little, hands clenching into fists and then releasing a moment later. “I think that’s supposed to be my line to you,” he said. “Are you going to be alright?”

Barry nodded. “It’s just, public speaking was never my strong suit. As it is, we’ve coached all of the data to be factual but not give too much away.”

“Good, good,” said Eliot with a nod.

Barry nibbled his lip before he asked. “Eliot, just so I know, you guys aren’t here to ah… do any business?”

“Ah, no,” said Eliot with a small laugh. “Thank God. Stealing one congressional committee is enough for a lifetime.”

“Oh, tell me about it,” said Sophie as she came up to them, Nate following behind them with a little girl in his arms. The little girl had Sophie’s dark eyes and hair that curled in ringlets like Nate’s — though Barry had only seen pictures, he knew this was Millie. Millie had been a later in life blessing on Nate and Sophie, and if Barry couldn't tell who she was by her appearance, he could tell by how Nate held her close.

Sophie hugged Barry tight, and Barry was truly glad to see her. As she continued speaking, she fixed Barry’s tie and his suit jacket. “It might have actually been harder than stealing San Lorenzo, and I died for that one.”

“Faked your death,” said Nate, rolling his eyes. He bounced the little girl in his arms up and down. “Millie, do you want to say hello to Barry?” In response, the little girl buried her face in Nate’s neck. “He’s the one who got you your favorite dinosaur.”

That got her to peak out from Nate’s neck and ask, “Really?”

Barry nodded emphatically. “My favorites are the long neck dinosaurs, like the brontosaurus. What are yours?”

“A t-rex,” Millie reported, very seriously. Then, she gasped and pointed as Hardison and Park approached them, hand in hand. “Uncle Alec and Auntie Parker – where’s Lou-Lou?”

“What?” Hardison asked as he and Parker strode up to them. “You don’t like Uncle Alec and Auntie Parker anymore?”

“I do, but I want Lou-Lou!” said Millie as she began to pout.

Right as she said this, of course, a young woman – Louisa – came up behind Millie and began to tickle her in the sides. Millie shrieked and fell back into Louisa’s arms. “Lou-Lou!” Millie cried.

“Hi Millie,” Louisa said, pulling the little girl into her arms.

Eliot bumped Barry’s hip with his own. “Sorry about the circus.”

Barry grinned at him. “Actually, I think this was just what I needed. It helped me to remember why I decided to do all of this.”

“And why’s that?” Nate asked, glancing between them to where Louisa was teaching Millie what she called a “waiting game.”

“Well, for moments just like this,” said Barry. “So, that everyone has the chance to have moments like this.”

“Barry!” Barry turned and saw Oliver, Felicity and Digg (with little Sara strapped to his chest). When Oliver was close enough, he rolled his eyes for Barry to see. “Why didn’t you tell us you were appearing before congress?”

“I was trying not to make a big deal out of it,” said Barry with a smile, as he reached out to hug him.

Oliver rolled his eyes again, but wrapped Barry in an embrace.

“Hardison?” Felicity asked, as they began to mesh with the group.

“…Felicity,” said Hardison. “This is my person, Parker, and our daughter Louisa.”

Felicity brightened a little at this, and they all made a round of introductions. Felicity even smiled as Parker hugged Felicity tight, even if the interaction appeared to confused her just a little bit.

“And how do you all know Barry?” Oliver asked.

“Oh, they’re family,” said Barry with a smile. “Eliot’s my cousin from the Spencer side of the family – and everyone adopted him, so, that sort of makes everyone else my cousins too.”

"I'm sorry," said Digg as he wrapped his arms around Sara. "Did you say Eliot Spencer?"

Barry opened his mouth as he tried to think of a way to satisfactorily explain that Eliot wasn't a bad guy, and even if he were, it would be a bad idea to get into a fight right now, all in a way that would make sense to an ex-military man like Digg and the most confrontational person alive, Oliver. Instead he said, "Listen, I'll explain everything after the hearing. For now, can we all just shake hands?"

"I'm game," said Eliot, offering out his hand.

They both eyed him warily for a moment, but Digg shook his hand and then Oliver.

Just then, Caitlin ducked her head outside of the doors. “Why is everyone waiting out here? The chamber is open.”

Eliot thumped Barry on the shoulder and said, “After you.”

Barry nodded, and with a deep breath he entered the hearing chamber, everyone filing in after him. Caitlin had saved him a seat at the front of the room in the same row with Bette San Souci (dressed in her formal uniform, red hair pinned back in a twist), Shawna Baez, Ronnie, and Dr. Stein. There were others seated in the same row as them who had note cards or printed documents or tablets at the ready to speak from. Cisco sat just behind them, Eliot filling the seat next to him.

"Are you nervous at all?" Cisco asked, letting his chin rest on the back of Caitlin's chair.

Caitlin nudged him back. "No, it's no different then giving a presentation at a conference."

"I haven't done one of those in years," said Barry, jiggling his leg.

"They don't make you give presentations in forensic science?" Shawna asked, reviewing her own tablet.

"Well you can," said Barry, wrinkling his brow. "But I usually have a lot of overtime because of a lack of CSIs in the city that it makes it kind of hard to get a day off let alone go to a conference."

Eliot squeezed his shoulder. "You're gonna do fine, Bear."

"Yeah, Barry," said Bette, looking over at him with a smile. "I've never given a speech, so you'll probably do better than me." Then she looked around Barry to Eliot. "Hey, are you Eliot Spencer?"

"That's what I said," said Digg leaning forward.

Eliot looked up at her with disbelief, like he had never had anyone recognize him in his whole life. "Not today," he said.

Bette only shrugged. "Alright."

Whatever chatter there was, and there was not much for everyone there was more than a little nervous, fell silent when the congressional representatives filed into the chamber. When the hearing was called to order and proceedings were begun, it seemed like just a short time passed for the congress reps to iterate what they were discussing and begin to call up for witnesses. Barry watched as everyone froze. He took a deep breath and stepped forward up to the podium provided for the room.

"Good morning," he said, gripping the side of the podium. "My name is Bartholomew Allen. I am a forensic scientist, working with the Central City Police Department in Central City, Missouri. I hold a PhD. in chemistry and a masters degree in criminology. I stand before you today to discuss my own testimony regarding metahuman rights.”

Barry took a deep breath as he looked over all of the representatives as they stared back at him. "I was the first metahuman to be recognized on record with STAR Laboratories after the Particle Accelerator went critical in December of 2013. On the night the Accelerator went live, it affected a thunderstorm that generated a bolt of lightning that struck me in Central City's first precinct building. I was put into a coma for nine months, and when I awoke, my medical records will show that I had no adverse signs of being in a coma as long as I was. My metahuman abilities are based around my ability to regenerate cells at such a rapid rate that I rarely suffer injury for long.

"Because of this ability I now have, I might be seen as a danger to many people," Barry continued, after another deep breath. "Despite almost five years of creditable service with the Central City Police, I know there are those people that would view my ability as a reason to fear me. Because of those who have chosen to use their own abilities for their gain in the past few months, there has come to be a negative perception of metahumans on the whole.

"I am here to say that just as any other group of humans, we are a widely diverse group, and many of us hope for a life where we may simply live with our rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. And like any other group of humans, as I know will be explained in greater detail, we cannot help existing as we are. I think there will be others to commit crimes, but there will also be those, like me, who will stop them. There will be others who will want to help by owning businesses, or providing social or government services. The concern that anyone with extraordinary powers will become a criminal is not only false, it will be incredibly detrimental to the population as a whole. If people who develop their abilities believe their only path is crime then that is where they will turn when their abilities manifest.

"It is my sincerest hope that this will not be the only path left us. That hope is what brings me before you today, to call for declaring metahuman as a protected status. People who find themselves with sudden metahuman abilities — what they need is to feel safe when some abilities may not make them feel safe. I believe Congress can offer them that shelter, and that a protected status will help prevent discrimination before it can build.”

Barry swallowed hard. All the talking had made his mouth run dry. He looked up again. “I sincerely hope that congress will take into consideration the many lives that would be affected by a protected status, and the other testimonies given here today. Thank you for the opportunity to speak with you today.”

“Thank you, Dr. Allen,” said the chair of the committee.

Barry gave a final nod before he backed away from the podium and returned to his seat. When they called for the next presenter, Caitlin stood from her chair, and Eliot filled in her seat. He rubbed Barry’s back in a way that almost made Barry feel eleven again. “You did great,” Eliot said, in a low voice as Caitlin began to her testimony.

Barry nodded back, but suddenly felt stuck for words.

"Y'okay Bear?" Eliot asked, his voice still low so as not to interrupt Caitlin's testimony.

"I'm just a little..." Barry had to breathe a little before he kept talking. "A little in shock I guess?"

Eliot nodded, then he reached over and took Barry's hand in his. "You're paintin' a target on yourself to be sure, but that's why you've got a crew behind you, Bear. You did a scary thing just now. But you'll be okay. You got people that care about you."

"Yeah, I know," said Barry. He squeezed Eliot's hand back and turned his attention toward Caitlin who was presenting her findings on metahuman biology toward explaining that people really couldn't help the manifestation of their abilities.

They sat quietly through the rest of the testimonies, both personal and professional. Barry was not the only one shaken after his testimony. Cisco was visibly paler after he testified, and Bette's hands quite literally shook after she took her seat again. Even Shawna, who Barry largely regarded as fearless looked a little worse for wear. But there were others still — people who Barry didn't know the names of until they took the stand — who were normal citizens affected by accelerator blast to find they had new abilities. Somethings were small — one man found he could change the temperature in his immediate surrounding within about ten degrees, a woman realized one day she could talk to her computer and it would type for her — and others still.

"They're the really brave ones," said Barry as he watched another person take their seat.

"Yeah," said Eliot with a nod. "People who have a lot to lose and still choose to take a stand always are."

Strangely, the whole thing reminded Barry of when he was a teenager, right after his mother had died. Saying that his father hadn't been the one to kill his mother had been easy at first. It was the truth after all, and his parents had always taught him to tell the truth. But as time went on, it got a little harder, and a little harder still. People kept insisting he must be wrong, from police to psychologists, to his own family. Barry's own grandfather had looked him in the eye and said that if Barry had ever loved his mother, he would tell the truth. Barry had said that he was, and his father was innocent. That had been the last thing Barry and his grandfather had ever said to one another. Barry had written Granda and Gran countless letters, in English and in Irish, that he never sent. And as time went on and people said he was crazy, he was stupid, and he was cold for taking the side of a murderer, Barry had sometimes wondered what was the point of saying his father had never done the crime if people refused to believe him? That it was right to do so rang out always in his head, but the pain rang out more strongly in his heart as time wore on.

And then there was Eliot.

Barry pulled back to the present as he heard a gavel clang — the chairman announced that the session was adjourned for the day. They all rose and filed out of the room, Eliot walking next to him.

"Hey," said Barry.

"Hey what?" Eliot turned to face him as they got out into the corridor. Eliot stepped back so they would be out of the way of traffic.

"Did I ever say thank you?" Barry asked. "For believing me, that is, about my dad and about not being crazy."

Eliot shook his head, his hair mussing at the motion. "You ain't got to thank me for that, Bear."

"Yeah, well," said Barry, holding out his arms, and wrapping them around Eliot. Eliot gave into the hug without a fight. "Thanks anyway. Sometimes people believing in you is what you need to fight. So, you believing me helped me keep going."

Eliot pulled back and wore a look mirrored to the one of many years ago, a little wet eyed and red faced. "You're my family, man. A'course I believe you."

"Not everyone did," said Barry with a shrug. "But you did. So, thank you, Eliot."

Eliot swallowed hard at that, but was saved from having to say something when Louisa and Millie ran up and took him by one hand each.

"Uncle Eliot! Are you really gonna adopt us another cousin?" Millie asked, her face bright as she used Eliot's hand to hold on while she walked up his leg like a balance beam.

"I been thinking about it," said Eliot. "And he's been thinking about it too, if he wants to get adopted by me. Y' wanna see a picture of him, Mill?"

Millie nodded and released his hand, and Eliot dug his phone out of his pocket. Barry caught a glimpse of the photo before Eliot knelt down to show Millie. The he in question was a boy of about eleven or twelve with dirty blonde hair that crowded into his eyes. He was smirking in the picture, like he'd just gotten away with something.

Millie took Eliot's phone, and he gave it up without much resistance. "What's our new cousin's name?"

"His name is Logan," said Eliot. "But he might not be your new cousin, Mills. Y'gotta wait just a little longer to find out."

Millie shook her head, curls flying with. "No, he's gonna be our new cousin. I can tell."

Sophie and Nate appeared over their shoulders, and Sophie knelt down just behind Millie. "Millie, sweets, let's give Uncle Eliot back his phone."

Millie nodded and passed Eliot back his phone, and then climbed into Eliot's arms just before he stood. "Mama, did you know that Uncle Eliot's gonna get me and Louisa a cousin soon?"

"I had heard something like that," said Sophie with a twinkle in her eye.

Barry felt Oliver's hand land on his shoulder before he saw him. Oliver cleared his throat to get the attention of Leverage Inc. (present and former). "I've rented out a dining room, and since you all are Barry's family, you are more than welcome to join us."

"It would be nice to get to know who the ruifíneach has been making friends with," said Nate, albeit more amicably than it sounded at first.

"You gotta start teaching us Irish, man," said Cisco as he joined their group. "I wanna know what all these words mean."

"Roughly, it means 'rascal,'" said Barry, as they started walking out of the building. "Or like, 'brat.'"

Everyone, quite the large group once Shawna, Caitlin, Bette, Felicity, and Digg joined their already sizable troupe, fell into conversations in small pockets as they found their way out to the streets of DC. Barry's phone buzzed just as they began to walk through the summer air — the texts started pouring in as he gained some reception — one from both Iris and Eddie, still in the hospital after Eddie's gunshot wound praising his testimony. Clyde texted for both him and Mark with about a paragraph of text asking if it would be legal to use their powers if the protection was put into place. Len sent him a thumbs up, and only a thumbs up. The text at the end of the list meant the most though, even if it was from the newest contact in his phone, and four words long. "Proud of you slugger."

"Is he okay?" Parker asked, coming up to his side and taking Barry's arm. "Your dad?"

"Yeah," said Barry. He tried to blink back the tears, but failed a little as a couple ran down his face. He put his phone away and pulled out a handkerchief. "Yeah, he's been doing good since he got out. He had to stick around Central for a little bit for the lawsuit, but now that everything's settled, he's actually out in the wilderness. I'm surprised he was able to see the broadcast."

Parker nodded along with this. "Families are kind of weird like that. Ever since Archie's family found out about me, I get invited to their stuff all the time, even though we didn't grow up together. I bet he found a place to be where he could watch it."

"Yeah," said Barry with a nod. He looked around at him at all of the people he'd met since he'd dared to find someone to believe him, to find something worth believing in. "Family's like that."

Chapter Text

Barry got the phone call when he was waiting on a test to come through at work. He had to debrief the captain in like twenty minutes, so he was praying for the machine to finish with enough time for him to do a write up. He grabbed his phone to put it on silent, but when he saw the picture on the screen he picked it up immediately. "Shawna? Are you okay, is something wrong?"

"I'm okay," said Shawna on the other end of the phone. I just... I needed someone to talk. And... uh, well, you're kind of the only one on my list right now, Bear."

"Okay," said Barry, keeping his voice even and smooth. "Do you wanna talk in person, or is the phone fine?"

"In person would be better," said Shawna. "Can we meet somewhere? Later, I mean, I know you're at work."

"I can get out of work," said Barry. He turned to look at the pile of his reports, most neatly stacked to one side and only one or two left. Barry knew he could finish them pretty quickly if he put his mind to it.

"No, it's not that urgent," said Shawna. "I just need a sounding board. And I need a friend."

"Okay," said Barry. "Okay, I'll text you my apartment address and you can come by tonight?"

"No," said Shawna, firmly. She took a pause, and Barry got the feeling that she was looking over her shoulder. "It's better if we meet somewhere public."

Barry thought for a moment — only spurred to action by the sound of his test finishing with a 'ding.' "There's a bar, downtown. I'll text you an address — six sound good to you?"

"Six works," said Shawna. "Seriously, though, Barry, I'm okay. I just want to talk to you."

"Okay," said Barry, "I'll see you then."

"Bye, Bear," said Shawna.

"Allen!"

Barry stashed his phone at the sound of Singh's voice and started speed reading his test results. Captain Singh strode into the lab. "Results just came in, sir," said Barry with a smile.

Singh narrowed his eyes at Barry. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," said Barry, feeling his brow furrow. "The results are actually pretty promising as far as the case goes."

"I'm not talking about the results, Barry." Singh rolled his eyes and came to sit next to Barry at his desk, pulling a stool underneath him. "You look upset, what's the matter?"

Barry relaxed a little, feeling his shoulder roll out with tension. "Just a friend who needs a little help, that's all. We're gonna meet after work if I can get out of here on time."

Singh narrowed his eyes a little. "What sort of help does this friend need?"

"Sounded like a life crisis thing," said Barry. "I thought she might be like hurt or something, because she never calls — just texts and emails."

Singh nodded very slowly with Barry's words. "According to your internal affairs profile, you don't know any criminals that are women."

"No sir," said Barry. A light bulb clicked on in his brain as he realized just what Singh was implying. "And Shawna's definitely not a criminal. She's a doctor actually — a second year resident at St. Luke's."

"Well, thank God that you have some normal friends, Allen," said Singh shaking his head — once he had released a sigh of relief, that is.

"I do at every single Mass, Captain," said Barry with a smile. "About those test results, though."

Singh nodded to him and they went on with their work.

Barry skidded to a stop outside of Saints and Sinners just after six. He stopped out the smoke produced by his shoes and and tried to walk inside as casually as he could. Shawna was sitting in a booth at one corner and waved him over.

"You've never struck me as the dive bar type," said Shawna as she stood out of the booth.

As they hugged, Barry said, "Yeah, well, I've never been the dive bar type, but on the off chance I unknowingly lied to my boss today, I just wanted to make sure we could meet somewhere that doesn't have security cameras."

As they sat down, Shawna licked her lips and took a swig of beer but didn't say much.

Barry sighed. "Great. Okay. Did something go wrong with your residency? Do you need help hiding your scummy boyfriend's body? Because if you did kill him, I support you one hundred percent. He's an asshole."

"Actually," said Shawna with a shrug. "He's not dead. But he's in prison. I wanna break him out."

Barry groaned and let his head thump on the table.

"I'm guessing that's a no," said Shawna, taking a swig of her beer. "Okay, well, I think I can get into Iron Heights by myself. Something happened to me when the particle accelerator went, you know— I heard from the news something happened to you too."

Barry groaned. "Please don't remind me that that got leaked to the news. Joe was pissed for weeks. And please, Shawna, please do not break into Iron Heights to rescue your scumbag boyfriend."

"Why do you keep calling him a scumbag?" Shawna asked, rolling her eyes. "C'mon, Bear, he's not that bad."

"But is he so good that he's worth risking your career and your freedom on?" Barry asked, waving his arms around. "The guy's a crook, Shawna, and he's not even a good one."

"What crook are we talking about?"

Barry groaned as he looked up and saw Leonard Snart standing at the end of their table holding two burger basket and fries. His sister, Lisa, stood next to him with the same. Lisa sat down next to Shawna, passing her one of the baskets while Leonard hip checked Barry until he did the same.

"Bear, correct me if I'm wrong, but you're not allowed to associate with known criminals as a part of your work with the police," said Shawna, even as she accepted the burger and fries. "I'm Shawna by the way, Barry and I went to college together."

"Lisa Snart and this is my brother Len," said Lisa with a glittering grin and a wink. "You a doctor too, darling?"

Shawna grinned back, and Barry got a feeling it was the start of a beautiful friendship. "Sure am — oncology resident at St. Lukes."

"Now why would a doctor want to break into prison?" Leonard asked, twirling a fry from finger to finger. He dropped the fry and poked Barry in between his ribs.

"Ow!" said Barry. "Leonard!"

Len only leveled a glare at him. "You haven't decided to leave me out of plans to break your dad out have you? I would be very offended if you left me out of any heist plans, Bartholomew."

"Oh!" said Shawna. "I didn't even think about your dad, Barry. We can totally get him while we're getting Clay."

Barry rolled his eyes. "My dad doesn't want to be broken out of prison; I've offered. Clyde offered to take Dad with when he broke out, and Dad declined. Shawna, when I say I won't help you with Clay, it’s because I firmly believe he doesn't deserve your help or mine."

Shawna huffed and rolled her eyes, but Lisa licked her lips and asked, "Why so harsh, Care-Bear? You don't have a problem with me or Lenny or Mick or any other disreputables you hang around."

"Yeah, Barry," said Shawna as she released another huff. "You have plenty of friends — and siblings — who are criminals! Why so harsh with Clay?"

"Well, Clay's not a very good criminal for one thing," said Barry. He drenched a fry in ketchup before he chowed down on it. "He's been caught for petty larceny three or four times before, right? And now, when he finally went for a big score, he got his ass handed to him and landed in the big one. Plus, I meant it when I said I think he's a jerk, Shawna. He drops in and out of your life without warning, and you've told me enough about how he acts around other women."

Shawna narrowed her eyes at him. "How'd you know he was going after a big score?"

Barry grinned. "They don't lock you in Iron Heights for anything under one-hundred-kay. Listen, Shawna, I realize that I sound like the asshole, right now, and I'm sorry I do. But that's how I feel about the whole thing. And I can't help you risk everything for a guy who's either gonna break your heart or just get caught again inside of a month."

Lisa bumped Shawna with her shoulder. "He makes a compelling case, my new friend."

"Yeah," said Shawna as she slumped down into the seat. "I guess." She took a fry and chewed quietly for a minute. Then she said, "I don't suppose you know where I could go to test out my powers then? I've been dying to give them a good run."

Barry sighed. "Do you promise not to get caught?"

"If we go with her the chances of getting caught go down," said Leonard, who had thus far eaten his burger in silence.

"Ferris Airfield was decommissioned last year after a pilot went missing," said Barry. "STAR Labs owns it now as a place to do testing. It's not really patrolled or anything, but I don't recommend you go during the day or anything."

"We planning a field trip?"

Barry looked to the end of the table again and felt an odd mixture of feelings as he saw Clyde and Mark setting down a round of beers and pulling up chairs — he was excited of course, because he didn't get to see his brothers often, but he also felt his stomach drop out from under him. Mark and Clyde had a way of getting him to go along with things, and Barry didn't think they'd mesh well with Lisa and Len.

"Awww, look," said Shawna, flicking a fry in Mark's direction. "It's the Duke brothers."

Mark flicked it back and said something rude in Spanish.

"You know these two boneheads, Shawna?" asked Lisa as she accepted the beer from Mark.

Shawna took her beer too. "Yeah, they used to come and bug Barry sometimes in college."

"He was there to learn, Mardons, not mess around with his brothers," said Len, leveling a glare at them.

Mark just glared back. "You're one to talk. Bear won't say but I know you're the one who taught him to do lifts."

"Yeah, and Shawna's leaving out the memorable occasion she boned my brother in the back of our Mustang," said Clyde with a giant grin.

"Fuck you," said Shawna. She looked him up and down. "Also, you really shouldn't be drinking."

"It's root beer," Clyde reported, taking a healthy swig.

"You sober, Mardon?" asked Lisa, raising an eyebrow.

Clyde snorted. "Not like that — booze messes with my medication. But anyway, what was that about an abandoned airfield? Bear, Mark and I are looking for a place to practice our powers to, you know."

Barry just groaned and resisted the urge to face plant into his burger basket. "Okay, anyone can go to the abandoned airfield. It's not off limits to anyone, except that it sort of is because you'd be trespassing. And you may or may not get abducted by aliens."

"Great," said Len, standing. "Let's go. Lisa and I could use some target practice."

"What?" Barry asked.

But by then it was too late. Everyone at the table was standing and Len pulled him along with him. All Barry could do was grab his burger basket to go with him.

And that was how Barry ended up at the abandoned Ferris Airfield on a Wednesday night — watching his brothers create micro weather patterns for Lisa to gild, or Len to freeze, or Shawna to dodge as she teleported in a puff of smoke.

"My life is weird," Barry remarked as he sat on the sidelines watching.

Shawna poofed next to him and flopped down. "You know, even if you won't help me break Clay out of prison, you're still a good friend."

Barry laughed. "Thanks, Shawna, I really appreciate that."

"I'm not sure why you're still such a good friend after I asked you to do something that would endanger your career and your life, but..."

"Well, someone pretty smart once told me that I'm not alone in this world. Other people exist and I exist with them, and so we have a duty to help each other." Barry nodded at this, content in his answer.

Shawna only rolled her eyes and pulled Barry's arm around her shoulder. "God, it's freezing."

"Yeah." Barry passed Shawna her jacket from where she had set it aside and then stood up. "Hey!" he called to the others. "Let's get out of here and get something else to eat!"

Normally, the Snarts or the Mardons might have complained about Barry's metabolism being too much for them to handle, but after an hour of playing supervillain with one another, they had probably all burned way too many calories to object. So, they packed it all in and headed Barry's way.

Shawna gestured to him for a hand up saying, "I guess you must burn a lot of calories huh? With all the running."

Barry, who had his hand firmly around Shawna's and had been pulling her to her feet, froze and nearly dropped her. "What do you mean?"

Shawna pulled herself up the rest of the way and then thumped his shoulder. "I mean you're the Flash, Barry." As Barry tried to pick his jaw up off the ground, Shawna only laughed at him. "Oh come ON, Bear. You get struck by lightning and are in a coma for nine months, and you wake up not having to go through PT or anything before going back to work, and suddenly there's a guy in red spandex running around the city saving people with the same shaped ass as you? Please."

"Well, you know it's true if the butts match," Leonard agreed as the four of them approached. For good measure he smacked Barry's ass. "I really ought to have seen it sooner."

"I'm still mad about you kidnapping Cisco and his brother, just by the way," said Barry, rolling his eyes.

"The fuck Snart?" asked Mark. "You kidnapping his friends now?"

"Hey, from the way I heard the rumor mill, you were planning on using the river to create a tsunami," said Len rolling his eyes. "Which, really, is the lesser of these two evils?"

"Y'all are crazy," Shawna declared, rolling her eyes. "Lisa, can I ride with you, babe?"

"Of course you can," said Lisa, patting the back of her bike. "Chicks before dicks, or some other bumper sticker like that."

"You wanna ride with me, Bear?" Leonard asked, offering up a second helmet.

"Naw, I think I'll reserve the table," said Barry. "Is the Thai place on 23rd alright with everyone?" After a chorus of yeses, Barry nodded turned himself toward the road.

"Hey," said Shawna. "When you say 'reserve the table' you mean —?"

Barry took off running before she could finish the question.

Clyde burst out laughing in the wake of Barry's lightning. "He means that. Let's go, let's go!!"

Everyone grinned and laughed as they started their engines and took off after Barry, following the lightning.

Chapter Text

Barry arrived at work and immediately found himself cornered by one of the detectives, Lopez, he thinks her name is. "The Captain wants to see you," she said.

Barry's chest tightens at the thought, and his mind whirls with the possibilities of things he had done wrong. The Captain rarely wished to praise him, so it must be something he had done wrong. And when they arrived at Captain Singh's office he did not look pleased — nor did the Internal Affairs employee, Gladys, who sat in the corner with a note pad and what looked like a file labeled, "Allen, Bartholomew."

"Sit down, Mr. Allen," said Captain Singh, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.

Barry sat, not letting it slip by him how Detective Lopez took up guard by the door when she closed it behind herself. "I'm in trouble," said Barry.

"You may be," said Captain Singh, a frown set deeply into the lines of his mouth. "There was an... unusual crime last night. The only survivor claims he saw a man turn into smoke and choke all of the people he was with, only passing him by because he wasn't spotted."

"Okay," said Barry, furrowing his brow. He tried not to let it show how panic coursed through him at the mention of a metahuman — did they know he was the Flash?

The Captain stared him down a few seconds more before he said, "That survivor was Raffi Darbinyan — he actually came here to report what happened, and he's been asking for your ever since we took him to be interviewed."

Barry inhaled sharply. "Is Raffi okay?"

"Mr. Darbinyan," said Captain Singh, stressing the name, "is fine. My question and great concern is why does one of my crime scene investigators, who I think shows great promise for the future, on a first name basis with the heir of the Armenian Mob?"

Barry tried to stay calm — he slowed down his heart rate, well, as slow as he could since gaining superpowers. "Raffi and I have known each other since we were teenagers. We stay out of each other's way where the law is concerned. I've processed at least ten scenes related to the Darbinyan family since I started working for CCPD, and all of them have come back with a conviction or some sort of break in a case. Besides, I disclosed my relationship with him when I was hired." He turned to Gladys. "Didn't I?"

Gladys frowned, her eyes going between Barry and Captain Singh. "You did," said Gladys. "And for the record, Barry, I'm against this little witch hunt."

"Gladys," said Captain Singh, chiding and warning all in the same tone.

"He's disclosed his whole life, Captain," said Gladys, holding up Barry's thick file. "Everything from his disreputable foster brother to have a familial relationship with a detective in this precinct. Barry's been nothing but honest from the start, and MAYBE if his superiors had taken a look at his records they might have been able to question this sooner rather than after almost four years of creditable service."

Detective Lopez coughed a little, before mumbling under her breath, "On paper."

Gladys narrowed her sharp eyes on Detective Lopez. "And what was that, Detective?"

"Just thinking that precautions are necessary," said Lopez, looking back at her. "People can always surprise you, even after YEARS of creditable service. Allen would be able to tell you that for himself."

Both Captain Singh's and Gladys' eyes went wide at the remark so clearly directed at Barry's father. Barry just turned to the Detective and asked, "How's your mother?"

Lopez's brow furrowed. "My mother?"

"Yeah — you said a little while ago that she was starting cancer treatments," said Barry with a small shrug. "And since we're talking about our parents, I thought I would ask."

Lopez's eyes went a little wider at the thought, as if she were trying to figure out any veiled meaning behind Barry's words. When she couldn't all she said was, "She's doing fine."

Barry nodded. "That's good." He turned back to the Captain, and waited, letting everyone mull over the silence.

Singh sighed. "Allen, I need to know if I send you to talk to him, if you'll be able to get the information we need from him."

"Which is what?" Barry asked, shuffling a little to get more comfortable in his seat. "A confession to something he didn't do?"

"And how do you know he didn't do it?" asked Singh.

"Unless he's had a total break in personality, Raffi is a family man through and through," said Barry. "He would never take out someone if it were bad for business, and killing the entire upper echelon of the Darbinyan family would be very bad for business. Besides, a chemical attack? It hardly fits his behavior."

"It fits YOURS," Lopez muttered.

Everyone ignored her.

Singh pointedly rolled his eyes at Barry and asked. "Allen, even you can't possibly believe that a man made of SMOKE attacked and killed some of the most ruthless men in this city."

"Yes, I can," said Barry.

"And what rationale could you possibly have — "

Before Singh could finish, Barry darted forward (at normal speed) and grabbed a letter opener from Singh's desk. He drew it quickly and deeply across his forearm. The cut went deep enough that it took a beat before blood welled up out of the wound to stain his arm.

"FUCK," said Singh, darting over the desk to take the letter opener from Barry.

"Just wait," said Barry, as he pulled his kerchief from his pocket with his good hand.

"Wait for what?" Singh asked, as he grabbed the kerchief from Barry's hand and pressed it into the wound. "What the hell, Allen, are you trying to bleed out in front of me?"

"I'll get a first aid kit!" said Lopez, twisting the knob from the door.

"You don't need to," said Barry. "It's healed." He had to push Singh off of him a little, but he managed, and when he wiped any of the fresh blood away, it was clear his arm had closed and no new blood came forth. If the blood weren't staining him, Barry knew from experience, after the wound closed all you would be able to see would be a small pink line, and then maybe thirty seconds later, no outward sign of injury. "STAR Labs calls people like me metahumans."

"But how is that possible?" Singh asked, running his fingers over the space where a gaping cut should have been. He realized the intimacy of this act, and that he was getting blood all of his hand, and pulled back right away.

"The particle accelerator explosion... changed people," said Barry, slowly. "Generally speaking, anyway — for me specifically it was the lightning bolt."

"There are MORE people like you?" asked Detective Lopez. She looked Barry up and down several times, trying to determine if there was anything strange at all about him. "How many more of the... metahumans are there?"

Barry resisted the urge to shrug. "They don't know. It's not something that you can take a census about, and even if people have the potential to develop a reaction to the accelerator, they may not have yet. Dr. Wells has been trying to get an appointment with the mayor and the police chief to debrief the trends STAR Labs has noticed—"

"But he's not exactly the most popular person right now," said Singh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He stayed that way for a moment, and then took a deep breath. "Clyde Mardon — also, as I found out today, your former foster brother — was thought to have rigged some sort of special effects by Detective West. Joe mentioned in his report that it appeared like Mardon could manipulate the weather. That wasn't JUST an appearance, was it?"

"I haven't spoken to Clyde since he was arrested." Technically true — the Flash had spoken to Clyde, but Barry Allen had seen neither hide nor hair of him. "But if I had to speculate, yes, it does seem like he developed metahuman abilities."

Singh fell back into his chair. "I have questions," he said. "A GREAT many questions, Barry. But we'll debrief about this later — and I expect you to contact STAR Labs and fill them in. But for now, I think we've kept Mr. Darbinyan waiting long enough."

—

They had held Raffi in an interview room — he hadn't been treated poorly, because there were still a few Darby men on the force. Raffi had been given food and coffee, but an interview room was far from even a two-star accommodation. Barry had been distracted on the way down, texting Cisco and Dr. Wells a heads up that they would likely need to show progress and details of their metahuman research soon. Cisco sent back a wealth of exclamation marks, but Dr. Wells simply said, "We'll be ready." Before he knew it, Barry stood in front of the glass one way window of the interview rooms, looking in at Raffi who was resting his head on the table. It didn't look like he was sleeping, but he looked drained. Lopez stood next to him and cleared her throat.

"Look," she said. "I know he's your friend, and given the... startlingly display of alternate possibilities, he's probably not guilty for this. But we still need to be professionals and get as much information as we can to determine what he says is the truth, and to set up a case against whoever the real killer is."

Barry nodded, unable to take his eyes off of Raffi — noting the blood shot eyes along with the shrugged posture. When he looked back up to Lopez to answer her, he couldn't help but notice she was staring at him. "What?" Barry asked.

She frowned and took a moment to formulate her choice of words. "Does it feel different — now that from before the lightning I mean?"

"A little," said Barry. He wanted to say, "A lot — I can slow down the world around me, I can feel molecules vibrating at different speeds, I'm hungry more now, I just want to run and run, and the pain is still is intense as ever, but becoming duller every time I fight someone." He doesn't say that. Instead he said, "I think it's a little too soon to tell the full limits of my abilities. And with a sample size of one, I don't really have a basis of comparison from myself to other metas, so it's a little hard to describe."

Lopez nodded at this information. "Alright." She took a deep breath and straightened out her back — back to business then. She led them around to the door of the interview room.

Raffi looked up as they entered, from Detective Lopez to Barry. The tension in Raffi's shoulders released as he saw Barry.

"Mr. Darbinyan," said Detective Lopez, "sorry to have kept you waiting. Mr. Allen just arrived about a half hour ago, and we needed to debrief him before bringing him into the room with us."

"I'm sorry, Barry," said Raffi, shaking his head. "I know they probably gave you hell for this."

"It's okay," said Barry, and he meant it. He had to refrain from giving Raffi any gesture of comfort though, as he did want to maintain the line of professionalism that Lopez had asked for. "Right now, what we want to focus on is getting some more information from your statement, so we can work on catching the person who committed the crime. So, Detective Lopez and I talked about the interview you already gave her, and I have some additional questions if you think you're up for them."

Raffi blinked at him. "You believe me?"

"Of course I do," said Barry.

Raffi looked between the two of them, focusing on Lopez. "And he got you to believe me."

Lopez pursed her lips. "Mr. Allen gave... a powerful demonstration on why I should consider your testimony plausible." She glared a little at Barry, like she couldn't quite believe that he had cut open his arm just to make a point, before she turned back to Raffi. "And he does actually have some additional questions."

"Okay," said Raffi, refocusing his attention on Barry. "Shoot."

Barry walked through the situation with Raffi one more time — he had been late to the meeting and had needed to come in through the kitchens. When he had, he had seen a man in a chefs uniform turn into smoke and proceed to suffocate all the members of the mob in the room. As they walked through it, Barry tossed in additional questions — what color was the smoke? could Raffi remember any set of particular smells? Did he remember any of the man's facial features? They went on in this way, Barry trying to limit himself so as not to overwhelm Raffi and shut him down, but even after a relatively short time, Barry could tell Raffi was getting a little worn out. Barry looked at Lopez, "I think for now, that is a good bit of information. I think I'd also like to compare it to the crime scene analysis before I make any judgement."

"Alright," said Detective Lopez. She turned to Raffi. "Mr. Darbinyan, you said that you only saw the back of the man and a part of his face?"

"Yes," said Raffi.

Detective Lopez nodded. "I don't think it will be enough for a sketch artist, unfortunately. For now, I don't think we have any further questions. I'm sure you'd be more comfortable with Mr. Allen walking you out."

"Yeah," said Raffi. He stood from his chair, a little wobbly and disoriented, before he added, "but we'll always have Paris, Detective."

Lopez rolled her eyes and stood, walking toward the door and opening it. Either she believed Barry well enough, didn't want to intrude, or simply didn't care enough that she left him in the presence of a murderer — Barry wasn't sure which one. Barry went around the table and wrapped his arm around Raffi's waist, helping him walk out. "You need to get some sleep."

"I need to get something to knock me out, first," said Raffi. "What's that one drink, in the wizard book?"

"The Dreamless Sleep Potion," said Barry, working off the little bit of information.

"Nerd," said Raffi, cuffing him playfully on the chin, his mouth opening in a wide smile. It dropped off in an instant as he returned to himself. "I haven't told my ma, yet, Bear. This was her family too — her brother, her friends and protectors. They're all dead — we're in shambles — and my bright idea was to walk into a police station."

"It worked," said Barry. He tightened his grip around Raffi's waist in a poor imitation of a hug. "Hey, listen, I can help you call your mom if you want."

Raffi shook his head. He pulled away from Barry and stopped in the hall, leaning against the wall. "You've done enough. As it is, I'm in your debt."

"We're friends, Raf," said Barry. He lifted a hand up to Raffi's forehead to feel it. It felt a little clammy, but upon pressing a kiss there, it felt a little more normal. "I'm not one of your henchmen."

Raffi giggled. "They don't call'em henchmen anymore. You think I got a fever?"

"I think the man who turned himself into smoke actually turned himself into poison gas," said Barry. Raffi felt a little chilled, but not clammy — probably from the lack of sleep. Wouldn't hurt to see a doctor. "I'm trying to make sure you weren't poisoned in a more mild capacity."

Raffi stared dead ahead into Barry's eyes for maybe ten seconds before he pushed off the wall and pushed a kiss onto Barry's mouth. It was quick, sloppy, and uncoordinated — Raffi was so tired he could barely hold himself up. He probably hadn't slept at all since witnessed the crime. Barry pressed another kiss to Raffi's forehead, this time out of affection, and wrapped his arm around Raffi's waist again. This time, he also put an arm under Raffi's knees and lifted him up. Raffi would have normally protested, but instead, he rested his head on Barry's shoulders. "You had better not drop me, Allen, or we can't be friends anymore."

"Duly noted," said Barry, dryly, as he felt Raffi settle against him, and his breathing begin to even out. He was tempted to stop for a little bit and just let Raffi rest against him and actually get some sleep. But he thought it would be better if Raffi could get a consistent round of sleep, so he pressed on until he came to the opening of the lobby.

Raffi was awake enough to know where they were, and so slipped down from Barry's arms. He still let Barry wrap an arm around his waist and guide him out into the lobby toward the elevators.

Barry caught sight of Cisco near the bullpen talking with Eddie and Joe, who saw him as well and waved. Then Cisco held up a device that looked like one of those bluetooth headsets that went around your neck — the collar. Cisco said that he would be moving toward something less demeaning, but he had to start somewhere and work on the collar had been good. It certainly dampened people's powers, and lately Cisco had been working to refine it so that it didn't short out every time there was a surge in biometrics. He must have been coming to test it on Barry.

Since his eyes were on Cisco, though, Barry never noticed the gaunt, bald man who walked right up to him, until he heard Raffi gasp.

"Hello Raffi," said the man, whose eyes were so sunken in and bloodshot, Barry thought he might be looking at a ghost.

"Nimbus," said Raffi turning pale. "You're supposed to be dead."

"Thanks to you and your uncle of course," said Nimbus. Barry could see him going fuzzy at the edges, as if he were having trouble maintaining his shape. Or as if he were turning gaseous on purpose. "And to some others. There was the judge — and the detective who brought me in. I'm going to kill all of you, of course, but since I missed you the first time, I figured I would keep going in order. So, you have a choice, Raffi. Come with me, or I turn and kill everyone in this building." Nimbus grinned at him sickeningly. "Or maybe more than that. I don't even know how big I can get. Want to help me test it?"

They were interrupted as Lopez came up beside Nimbus at one side and drew her firearm. Eddie and Joe, who had eyes on them drew their service weapons and they too pointed them at Nimbus. Others began moving around them and getting civilians out of the way. Cisco, though, refused to be moved. He was fiddling with the collar.

Rather than looking upset, Nimbus actually smiled loopily. "Detective West! I was just about to come looking for you. You can save me the trouble — Raffi and I are going to take a walk, and you're going to come with."

"Like hell," Joe retorted.

"Joe," said Barry, resisting the urge to vibrate in place. "Mr. Nimbus can turn into poison gas. We probably should not provoke him."

Nimbus laughed, the sound scratching against his throat. "Your boyfriend's a smart man, Raffi. Have you told him about everything your family has done? Everything YOU'VE done? Or what about—" Nimbus cut off as a 'click' reverberated through the dead silence around him.

Barry would have to remember that Cisco could be really sneaky when he needed to be. With Nimbus' attention squarely on Barry, Raffi, the three detectives, and three guns, he hadn't noticed Cisco creeping up behind him and putting the collar on. With the press of a remote in his hand, Cisco made the collar live. Of course, when it was on, Nimbus was no longer focused on the others and turned on Cisco. "Who the hell do you think you are?!" Nimbus shouted raising up a hand. He brought it down in a sort of vertical swipe.

While Cisco looked terrified, he also looked very confused by the gesture.

Nimbus, too, looked incredibly confused. He again swiped his hand through the air and nothing happened. The third time, Eddie caught Nimbus by his wrist, brought it behind his back and pushed the man to the ground, cuffing him. "Do you want to read his rights, Lopez?" he asked.

"Gladly," she said, holstering her gun. She squinted at Cisco. "Nice work on... whatever that is."

Cisco only squeaked a little, having gone very pale at the near death experience.

Raffi also looked pale, and could only give the warning of, "Barry, I don't think —" before he passed out into Barry's arms.

Now that there was no longer a perceived threat, there were more people closing in. Another cop helped Eddie restrain Nimbus, now flailing violently, as Lopez read his rights. Joe put his arm around Cisco, who had ended up fainting at the whole scene as well. Barry, for his part, reflected on the fact that events like these — brushes with death, injured persons, flailing metahuman criminals — were all starting to seem as routine as lab work. The thought struck him — he hadn't been to his lab all day. He could only imagine the stack of work that awaited him.

"Mmm, Bear?" said Raffi as he started to come around.

"I'm still here," said Barry, as he observed a group of paramedics had entered the lobby. Two went for Cisco, who was still passed out, and the other came toward them. True to his word, Barry staid with Raffi through the paramedics, through a second round of questioning, through walking him out to his car after fatigue finally took hold of him.

"And don't worry," said Raffi. "I won't tell."

"Won't tell what?" Barry asked.

"That you vibrate," said Raffi. Even almost falling asleep, he still gave Barry a lecherous grin.

Barry rolled his eyes as he said, "Thank you, Raffi," and passed him off to his bodyguards.

As he watched Raffi drive away, his lab, and all his undone work came to mind again. He stretched, and headed toward the building, only to be met by an awakened Cisco and Eddie also back on their way in, their arms full of sandwiches from the amazing sandwich shop two blocks over.

"Caitlin reminded me you hadn't eaten today," said Cisco. "So on behalf of STAR Labs, I present you with, like, three subs."

Barry laughed and took the sandwiches from him. "Thank you, Cisco, very much."

"How do you know Raffi Darbinyan anyway?" Eddie asked as they rode the elevator up into the precinct.

"Well, you meet friends in strange places," said Barry. "From clubs, to getting mugged, to lightning strikes. You just never know which it will be."

Eddie only arched an eyebrow. Then he turned to Cisco. "Yeah, he definitely needs food — he's getting poetic."

The three of them burst out laughing as they spilled out into the precinct.

Chapter Text

As they hauled Mick and Leonard into the station, it was hard to believe Barry's known them both for ten years or more now. Especially as the Mick he knew liked to bake cakes and would simply talk about anything all afternoon with a bunch of strangers to keep his Irish in working order. Now he appeared as a ball of rage hurtling toward arraignment, as officers pinned him down and guided his way. Barry stood off to the side, with Cisco and Joe and Eddie and just marveled at it. It was almost poetry the way Mick spoke, if you looked at in the right light — it transcended verbal threat and abuse to the point where it was something more than words.

Then Mick turned. He saw Barry. The violence didn't have time to drop out of his voice before he bellowed, "Barry, ! Haven't seen you in an age, kid."

"I was in a coma," said Barry, gently.

"The fuck for?" Leonard asked. He leveled his best imitation of Mick's glare — the kind Mick got when Leonard ate something not intended for him. "Do we need to put someone ELSE in a coma?"

"Raffi already offered," said Barry with a slight grin. "But no, I got struck by lightning."

Both of them stare at Barry for a moment. In fact, everyone is staring at Barry.

"Barry, what's going on?" asked Eddie, the first person who managed to break from his stupor to do so.

Barry sighed and then took a deep breath. "Mick and I go to an Irish conversation group at the library. We have for ten years, barring the nine months where I was not awake. It's on file with IA, I promise."

Captain Singh, from across the room, rubbed his temples. No doubt, he was trying to figure out how Barry had managed to bring him down when his force had managed to capture two extremely dangerous people.

"," said Leonard shaking his head. "."

"?" said Eddie with a bright smile in return.

Leonard only glared at Eddie. "Don't ruin the moment."

"Go!" said Singh at last, pointing out of the room.

The officers who had previously been hustling them, pushed both men forward toward arraignment, again.

"What was that?" asked Cisco, nudging Eddie with his elbow.

"My Grandmother is from Poland," said Eddie, waving a hand. "She just wanted someone she didn't have to speak English with, so she taught me Yiddish."

"Make sure you don't introduce her to Snart," said Barry with a grin. "He's fluent in Yiddish, and he still goes to temple for the holidays."

Eddie laughed. "Oh man, then she'd get after me for not going on holidays, and always did like rule breakers."

Cisco began to laugh too. "Now I'm imagining this sweet, elderly woman driving a getaway car for Snart and Rory."

Their laughter ceased when Joe turned to them with hard set mouth and worried eyes that darted between the three of them before they stuck on Barry. “Are you gonna tell me why it seems like you know so many criminals, Bartholomew?”

They all gasped a little, and Cisco even hissed, “Full name, oh shit.”

“Why does it matter who I know?” said Barry with a frown.

“Because I’m concerned for you,” said Joe, not letting up. “And I want to understand this Barry.”

Barry huffed, but did not shirk away from his foster father’s gaze. “Can we finish up here and then go get some food? I’m starving. We’ll talk then, I promise.”

Joe nodded and reached out pulling Barry in for a hug. Barry hugged him tight before he pulled away. He had to giggle, though, when after Barry pulled back, Cisco held out his arms and encased Joe in his own hug. Joe snorted a little but hugged Cisco in return. When he pulled away he paused and turned toward Eddie.

Eddie didn’t reach out at first. But he did put on a pout and said, “I don’t get a hug?”

Joe rolled his eyes and pulled Eddie into his embrace. "You're as bad as the other two."

Hugs received and given, Eddie and Joe wrapped up initial reports which would no doubt need to be rewritten come morning. Barry finished writing an analysis of the guns, so Singh could sign off on their being destroyed at STAR Labs. They would remain in the evidence locker until morning, though, when he could arrange for a proper escort to the Labs. After that, anyone who was not normally on duty left. Eddie volunteered to take Cisco home so Joe and Barry could have their heart to heart, and Joe and Barry went to one of the only places still open at midnight — IHOP.

"I haven't been to IHOP in years," said Joe. He stared down at the table as if expecting it to stick to him. "Makes me feel like a kid again. Or like you're a kid again."

"At least it's not Denny's," said Barry with a chuckle.

Joe raised an eyebrow. "Okay, Mr. High-and-Mighty, what's wrong with Denny's?"

"It's just a joke from the internet," said Barry, shaking his head. "You don't go to Denny's, you end up at Denny's."

"And not this Denny's," said their server with a grin as she approached the table. "The nice Denny's across town."

Joe rolled his eyes at the pair of them. "That must be one of those millennial things older people just don't understand."

Both Barry and the server burst out laughing at that. When they could contain themselves, the server said, "Hi, I'm Dana, can I get anything started for you?"

They both ordered orange juice since it's late, and they would need to sleep after this. Joe just ordered a short stack of pancakes, but Barry was genuinely hungry after fighting two super villains and orders two large meals. Dana tilted her head sideways to examine him for a moment, but then winked and wrote down the meals without a word.

When she disappeared back into the kitchen, Joe leaned in and said, "So?"

Barry nodded and inhaled deeply, thinking for a moment about where to begin. "You know, I've been thinking lately, about destiny. About how if everything is preordained, or if we have choices how everything might happen to us for a reason."

"Okay," said Joe. He started frowning again, not quite sure where this was going, but willing to let Barry have the floor for the moment.

"Do you remember when I first started out on this path, with Clyde?" Barry asked.

Joe nodded. "I remember. I said not everyone was going to be as cooperative as him."

"And do you remember what Dr. Wells wanted?" Barry asked.

Joe nodded again.

They had started to creep toward late September, not long after Barry had come out of his coma with superpowers. Barry had made it clear that he intended to continue as a superhero where need arose, and Joe had asked how they intended to go on, when not everyone would listen to Barry the way Clyde Mardon had.

"We would have to find a way to imprison those who were resistant," Wells had said, tossing a hand side to side.

Cisco had frowned and said, "Well, with the various insulation and make up... the pipeline for the particle accelerator may actually dampen their powers enough so they couldn't be used."

Wells had snapped his fingers and pointed toward Cisco. "It's perfect."

Barry remembered this sick feeling bubbling up inside him. He remembered not really knowing why he felt so anxious. "How would you be able to make a whole prison complex down there?" he had asked.

"Well, we wouldn't NEED a whole prison," Wells had said, with a small shrug. "I imagine individual cells—"

"No." The word had burst forth from Barry before he even realized he was speaking. "We can't do that."

"Why not?" Caitlin had asked. "If there are other people like Clyde Mardon, Barry, they may have extreme powers that could knock out any normal police force. Though I'm sure they'd do a good job otherwise," she had added, glancing up at Joe.

"I'm not saying we don't need a way to contain them, because we do, especially if they're going to break the law or try to hurt others. But solitary confinement is not the right answer. There has to be another way, and we need to find it."

Everyone had looked at him like he had grown a second head.

"Mr. Allen," Dr. Wells had said, removing his glasses to wipe them on his shirt. "I'm not quite sure I understand your opposition to this proposal."

"My opposition is that solitary confinement is inhumane," Barry had said, staring down one of his most admired heroes. "And I won't be party to it."

"However, it seems to the most expedient option at our disposal." Dr. Wells had stared back at him, those bright, blue eyes unwavering. "And you can hardly say that men like Clyde Mardon are undeserving of a prison sentence."

Barry remembered that he had struggled to contain himself at such a suggestion. Joe remembered Barry turning bright red and struggling to breathe.

“I am not a judge,” Barry had said, tapping the cortex console with his index finger. “But what I know is this. People who experience solitary confinement start to be unable to organize themselves for any activity or purpose — they develop severe executive dysfunction, depression, fatigue, and despair. They can experience hallucinations, mental breakdowns, and lost time. Rarely does it actually help calm their behavior, since it completely eliminates it, and therefore makes reintegration into society difficult. It can make it impossible for someone to recover. Which, if this is all about recovery, and rehabilitating people, it sort of defeats the point. And in any case, I know that I wouldn't want to put the worst sort of person through that."

Cisco, Caitlin, and Joe had all gone pale at the list of experiences solitary provided. Even Dr. Wells, normally steadfast and unwavering, looked unnerved, though his blue eyes did not remove from Barry.

Barry took a deep breath and pressed on. "There are some smart people in this room — maybe even some of the smartest people in the world. If we can't figure out how to treat people humanely, then we do not deserve to be heroes. I certainly won't be party to it."

Every had stayed silent for a moment, shifting through the uncomfortable truths in the weighty silence.

"It would have to be small," Cisco had said after a moment. "I mean, if they're going to wear it all the way through the judicial system, it'll have to be small. Small means it'll be harder to engineer."

"How long would it take you to make something like that?" asked Joe.

"I don't know," said Cisco, shaking is head. "But I know I can do something like that — and ask for help where I get stuck."

"Wait," said Joe, interrupting Barry's recounting of events. "What's that got to do with Mick Rory?"

Barry shrugged a little, smiling at the thought of Mick's out loud personality. "Mick's the whole reason I had that opinion to begin with — he's the first person who ever told me what solitary confinement was like. After that, I asked my Dad what his experiences were like, and he told me other stories. But I don't think I would have ever considered that perspective without Mick. And you really should be grateful to him, you know?"

"Oh, why's that?" asked Joe, raising a cup to his lips.

Their server came out of the kitchen carrying a large tray as Joe asked, so Barry took his three plates from her and thanked her for her timely service. When he was sure she was out of earshot he began carving up his food and said, "Well, if I had never known Mick, you would have been party to maintaining a private prison."

Joe choked a little.

Barry nodded while he chewed and swallowed a piece of steak. "Trust me, that would have been like a million times worse than just me being friends with Mick and Lenny."

Joe coughed until the orange juice he had inhaled worked its way back out of his windpipe. He looked around, assuring himself that even though Barry's voice had been lowered, that none of the staff had heard. "I guess that is one way of looking at the whole thing. It's just hard for me to believe that a man like Mick Rory or Leonard Snart have a positive influence on anyone."

Barry hummed at the prospect. "Well, they certainly helped me to understand that there are lengths to which I will not go."

Joe nodded and considered this for a moment. Then he asked, "What does, 'mo chara' mean?"

"My friend," said Barry with a bright grin. In a way he had never expected, he was very proud to be Mick Rory's friend. For through it, Barry had found a way of talking to Joe, which even before the coma might have seemed impossible.

"And am I your chara?" Joe asked, taking up knife and fork to cut into his pancakes.

"No you're not," said Barry, as he began to partake of his own meal. "You're definitely m'athair."

"And what does that mean?" asked Joe.

Barry took a bite of food and took his time chewing it. When Joe still waited on him when he had finished, Barry simply said, "I guess you'll just have to figure it out."

Chapter Text

Awaking from a coma was like nothing Barry could ever imagine. It felt like a rush of electricity running through his veins — though in retrospect, the electric feeling was likely the new superpowers he had acquired. But being awake after so long under felt like being alive after a time when he hadn't been quite alive, but hadn't been dead either.

Barry relished the feeling.

He had hugged Joe, hugged Iris at least three times, and he even hugged Eddie when he found Iris kissing him at Jitters. Eddie had needed the hug, because he had turned white as a sheet when Barry saw them together. Afterwards, when all three of them had calmed down a little, Eddie had to return to the station, and Barry and Iris began the journey home via public transit.

"You're really okay with this?" Iris asked as they walked to the bus station.

"Iris, you are a grown person with a great sense of judgement," said Barry, reminding her and himself at the same time. "I don't know Eddie, but you do. I don't think you'd be dating him if you didn't have a good reason." He paused and said, "I get that this must be a big deal, because otherwise you wouldn't be freaking out, but I have something really important that I need to say."

Iris stopped on the sidewalk, pulling Barry to one side with her. "Barry, you've been awake for, like, a day," she said, her mouth curved into a frown.

"I know," said Barry. "And in that day, I've discovered that I'm... different now that I've woken up."

Iris looked him up and down a few times before she said, "Elaborate."

"I have superpowers," said Barry, without blinking. When he said the words, the rest came tumbling out. "We did tests this morning — I can run over three hundred miles per hour, I broke my arm and it healed in, like, an hour."

Iris studied him again, almost tearfully, and still frowning deeply. "Barry, I want to believe you, and nothing about your behavior indicates you're lying to me. But medically, you just woke up from a coma, and so I just need to know that this is true. Can I give Cisco a call to double check? Or can you... show me?"

Barry nodded. "Probably not something we want to talk about over the phone, but I can show you." He offered out his hand, and when Iris took it, Barry pursed his lips. "Actually, I'll probably need to carry you."

Iris only laughed, and they situated themselves so that Barry had her in his arms, bridal style. They checked the street and found it camera-less and abandoned. Barry reached for the lightning inside of him and pushed it outward. He ran forward the wind racing over him and Iris together, as he sped through the city. He could feel Iris' pulse under his touch, and as it began to race, Barry slowed down about a block from their home. Iris exhaled and clamored out of Barry's arms.

At first, Barry felt worried she might be repulsed, but instead she put her head between her knees. Barry rushed to hold back her hair. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't realize it would be the wrong kind of rush."

"I think I'll be okay," said Iris. She still stayed crouched for a moment before she stood back up. Iris's brown eyes lit up and went wide. "Holy shit, you've got super powers!"

Barry couldn't help but laugh. "Don't announce it to the neighborhood. But, yeah, I do."

"Have you decided on a name, yet?" Iris asked. She looped their arms together, drawing him close as they continued to walk toward the West residence.

"A name?" Barry asked.

"I mean, you've got super powers," said Iris, with a grin. "You get a superhero name!"

Barry shrugged. "I mean, I just found out about it yesterday, so I haven't had time to think of a name. Hey, um, Iris, can we hold off on telling Joe?"

That gave Iris pause as she looked up at him. "Barry, I don't like keeping things from Dad. If I thought he wouldn't shoot Eddie or try to make us break up, I would have told him about that already."

"I'm going to tell him," said Barry. "I just... he doesn't believe in things — I know you don't sometimes, either, but you've always given me the benefit of the doubt. Which I've always appreciated if I haven't said it recently."

Iris beamed at him and with a smile, she enveloped Barry into a hug. Barry hugged her tight and felt a surge of gratefulness rush through him. Not just for Iris, but for those people in his life who he knew loved him. Turning his loved ones over in his mind made him think of his father, who probably hadn’t been told about his awakening yet. His father and the thought of belief made Barry think of Clyde.

Iris pulled out of their hug, and walked with him up to the house even as Barry was still lost in thought. “I’m gonna order pizza and then we’re definitely gonna talk about superhero names.”

"Sure thing," said Barry.

They entered the house with little fanfare, slipping off their shoes and getting comfortable. Iris pulled out her phone and flopped onto the couch ordering three pies — one to be set to precinct for her father and Eddie, one plain cheese and pepperoni for her, and the third with plenty of toppings for Barry. Barry sat down in one of the arm chairs and grabbed a memo pad from next to the landline that Joe still had and began to write out a list. It was more of a way for him to think without leaving anyone out. At the top was to talk to his father and to call Eliot. Then he thought about updating his blogs, because he had asked Iris in his living will to post something on them so people would know what had happened, in the event of an accident where he was unable to. He definitely needed to check if his apartment was still there for him, though he tried to pay a year in advance for rent, and he had done so last November, so it should be. Iris might have canceled the lease, though. He wondered if Iris had gotten his mail held — probably, she usually thought of things like that — and then wondered, again if he had any letters from Clyde and Mark.

Iris, when finished ordering, came to sit on the arm of his chair and read over his notes. "You know — that robbery they did back before the lightning bolt?"

"I remember," said Barry.

"They never caught them for that," said Iris. She shrugged when he looked up at her with wide eyes. "Yeah, I know. But the other tech processing the scene in your place didn't get results until two weeks later."

"Two weeks?" Barry asked his brow furrowed. "Shit — that had to look like I was obstructing."

Iris only shrugged again. "Well, you were the one that found out it was them and told the detectives what to look for in the evidence. It was Dad and Captain Singh that pulled you off of the case — and then when the accelerator went off there was a lot of clean up that followed and stuff that went for priority. By the time the lab came back to the sample you took from the crime scene, someone said they had lost your notes or something like that and ended up running a whole battery of tests. Dad and Chyre did find the farm where they stayed, though. They found the Mustang and noticed take off marks from an airplane."

"So they were in the wind, huh?" Barry asked, unable to help the grin that came to his face. Then it dropped off of his face. He could have only imagined what might have happened if Joe and Chyre had actually confronted Mark and Clyde, and his imagination didn't spark anything good. Barry coughed and turned his attention back to Iris. "So, uh, what happened to Chyre anyway?"

"He retired actually," said Iris, slipping off the arm of the chair. "Doctor's recommendation — his blood pressure was so high he was at serious risk for a heart attack. But I haven't heard from Mark or Clyde. Neither of them sent letters, and I checked your mail pretty regularly. I figured it was better than stopping it in case a bill or something came through — I only opened the official stuff, left all the letters for you to read."

"That's fine," said Barry. The implication of no letters worried him though. Clyde and Mark communicated with him pretty regularly — nothing electronic since they were afraid of a trace back to them, but Barry could expect a letter from one of them once a month. He wondered what had happened to his brothers, and what sort of trouble they had gotten into if they couldn't even write. He tried to dismiss the thought, though, since there wasn't much he could do about it at this point. He would probably be back at work before he'd be able to track either of them down. Barry looked up at Iris who wore a frown mixed with a wrinkle in her brow. "I'm worried about them, and there's not much I can do about it right now."

"You're so good," said Iris, shaking her head a little bit. "Would it cheer you up to see the rest of your mail? I've got all the letters from your friends around the world."

"Sure," said Barry, feeling a smile tug at his lips despite feeling down.

Iris nodded, as much to herself as it was to him and headed toward the stairs. "Hey," she said, pausing at the foot of the staircase. "Turn on the news — I have to take notes for my reporting class."

"Sure," said Barry. He pushed himself to the edge of the chair, always too low for his long legs, before pushing up on the balls of his feet. His newly tightened core helped Barry stay aloft as he managed to get one foot in front of the other as he went over to the TV and turned it on. Joe must not have been home lately, because he liked to watch ESPN more than the local channels most nights, but the TV was already tuned to the nightly news.

"—we're standing in front of the overpass just past 34th street and Constitution," said the woman on the screen, a graphic cutting across her midsection announcing her as Kristine Blanco. "Just ten minutes ago there was a nearly fatal accident here, where a man driving a stolen 2015 Ford Mustang lost control of the vehicle when a tire blew. The car, which you can see behind me, flipped, blocking traffic out of down town Central. The suspect climbed out of the car, however, and appeared unharmed. What happened next, however, may truly shock viewers. We have uploaded footage taken by an onlooker's camera phone and are now ready to play it for you in the studio."

Barry heard Iris come down the steps as the wood floorboards creaked under her, but Barry's eyes hyperfocused on the TV, unable to pull away. Iris didn't say anything either as she sat down beside him, watching the footage unfold.

The camera started rolling with some people off screen screaming, "OH SHIT! OH SHIT! Dude just flipped his car."

"I think he's getting out," said a different voice.

Sure enough a figure in black emerged from the wreckage, shimmying out of the car window, carefully avoiding the glass around him.

"SHIT MAN, YOU OKAY?" said one of the people near the camera.

The man in black called back, "Yeah!"

Barry knew the voice in a heartbeat. "Oh my God," he said looking over at Iris. "It's Clyde."

Iris didn’t say anything, she only took Barry by the hand as they kept watching.

On the TV someone who had pulled to a stop in front of the wrecked car had gotten out and was on their cell phone.

"PUT IT DOWN!" Clyde screamed, his face red and angry. "I SAID PUT IT DOWN!"

And then the truly strange began to happen. Wind swirled around Clyde like a mini-tornado and clouds moved into the area overhead like something you saw in speed enhanced footage. The phone flew from the onlooker’s hand and the people filming began to shout again, “OH SHIT OH SHIT” as thunder boomed in the sky and it began to rain. The man who had had the cell phone had gotten on the ground and was clinging to his car even as it began to move back, the windows bursting out of it. The man was saying something, but you can’t hear it over all the noise until he’s practically screaming, “PLEASE, PLEASE OH PLEASE.”

Something in Clyde’s face changed. He went blank for a moment, and then looked around, as if trying to figure out where he was. Then, the rain stopped — in its place a fog rolled over Clyde like a giant wave. A caption comes up on the screen, announcing a timelapse, where the fog begins to disappear.

Clyde, it seemed, had gone out with the fog.

Barry sat completely still as the screen switched back to Kristine Blanco.

"Bear," said Iris. She pressed a hand to his shoulder and shoo him gently. "Barry, do you need help? Do you need me to call 911?"

"No." Barry's voice croaked out as he tried to avoid crying. He couldn't start crying now. "No — where did you say they found the Mustang? When they were searching for Clyde and Mark?"

"At a farm," said Iris, her voice colored with confusion. When Barry turned to look at her, though, her face had gone a little hard. "Barry — you just got out of a coma. Even if you do have superpowers now, you can't go running after Clyde when he's hurting people with — with the weather."

Barry pulled away from her a little. "Iris, he's not on his medication!" Barry gestured helplessly at the TV. It had been so obvious to Barry with the way Clyde had looked in that video, the way he had acted, that he needed help. Even so, he felt his stomach drop out from underneath him as he said it. "He's gonna get himself killed and he's gonna take people down with him. I can talk to him, though — he'll let me talk to him and I've done it before." Even if he had told himself not to, even if he felt bad because Iris started crying too, Barry still couldn't help it as he started to cry.

Iris focused on him, swiping viciously at her own tears. She reached out and pulled him back into her. "I just mean — you can't do this by yourself, Barry. I refuse to let you do this by yourself, okay? If you're gonna trust me with secrets then you gotta trust me all the way, and let me help you."

Barry took a deep breath and let Iris pull him back. He couldn't speak for a moment, because a lump was growing in his throat. "Okay," he said when he could. "Okay. We'll do this together."

"Damn right we will," said Iris, nodding her head. "We've been through too much together to stop now. We need a plan and a way to make sure Clyde is where we think he is. Even if you have superspeed now, you can't go running around all over the city."

Barry nodded, tears blurring his vision. He pulled away from Iris, but just to get some tissues on one of the side tables. He took some for her as well as himself, and for a minute they sat, collecting themselves, drying tears, and blowing their noses.

The doorbell rang.

Iris got up to answer it — it was just the pizza, for which she paid and took the boxes from the delivery driver. "You know," she said as she got back to the couch. "I've been at STAR Labs a lot over the past few months, and sometimes I'm their rubber duck."

Barry startled and looked up at her as she set the pizzas down on the coffee table. "You're their what?"

"That's what Cisco calls it," said Iris with a shrug. "Like, he says programmers talk to a rubber duck to figure out their problems with a code."

"Oh," said Barry, a laugh tumbling out of him. "That sort of a rubber duck."

Iris only shook her head. "I don't want to know what weird sex act you were coming up with in your head. ANYWAY, I listen to them when they're working on their projects, and I ask questions like a good journalist. So I've gotten to know them pretty well. And I know what, well, some of what STAR Labs has at their disposal."

"Like what?" Barry asked.

"Like a satellite that can track the weather," said Iris.

Barry needed a moment to buffer when she said it, but then his face lit up like one hundred watts. Then, Barry paused. "Do you think it works like when you're moving and you offer someone pizza and beer. Like, hey bro, lemme use your satellite real quick?"

"I think if you agree to further testing they'll probably agree," said Iris, with a nod.

Five minutes later, they arrived at STAR Labs, holding the pizza boxes, and Barry wearing a charred coat. Once they had explained, Cisco pointed to his coat and said, "You ran here, didn't you?"

"Yeah," said Barry. "Buses don't go this way, and Joe's got the only car."

Cisco snapped his fingers. "There's something I've got that will be useful for when you're running. A friend was designing a friction proof suit, and then he got bored and stopped, so I decided to finish it for him."

“Okay…?” said Barry. “But why do I need that?”

Cisco paused. “So your clothes don’t burn up when you’re running around trying to find this guy. And maybe fight him, depending on what sort of mood his in.” Cisco walked away without another word.

Caitlin shook her head as she sat behind the main console in the lab. “He’s a little hyper focused right now.” She bit her lip before saying, “Listen, Barry — I have to ask if you really think this is the best idea. I mean, trying to play superhero that is.”

Barry turned to her, trying to gauge the situation. Caitlin looked sincere in the depths of her brown eyes. “I don’t know that I want to be a superhero. I mean, I’m sure there are many sides to a discussion about what I should do with the amazing power I’ve been given. And I am willing to entertain those talking points, I am. But right now, my brother is about to complete suicide by cop, and I’ve got to do what I can to help him.”

Caitlin nodded, her face morphing from her blank look to something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Okay,” she said. “I’m retasking the satellites now.”

Iris’ brow furrowed. “Wait, you’re a geneticist.”

“And I’m am on a faculty of three, where sometimes we all get bored and cross train,” said Caitlin with a small shrug. “I mean, sometimes the satellites need to be moved, and I’m the only one to move’em. Barry, you said your brother has some kind of mood disorder, right? Do you know what kind of medication he was taking at all?”

Barry shook his head. “I don’t even know what he was diagnosed with. I think the only person who knew was Mark and that’s because he stole Clyde’s files.” Barry had to tamp down on his guilt and worry over Mark. He knew that if Mark were here, he would be brushing aside Barry’s worry for him, and saying that Barry had been correct in trying to help Clyde. “Did you have something?”

“Maybe,” said Caitlin. “We had a small pharmaceuticals division, and if I knew what he had against what we had then I might have been able to find something to get him stabilized. If we don’t know, though, it’s better that I give him nothing for the moment then try to guess at it.”

Cisco rushed back into the room, holding up a red suit that looked more like something Barry might wear to Pride than to avoid being burnt. "I know it looks a little tight," said Cisco. "But the material is friction proof and can withstand some crazy temperatures, so high that I had to use the Kelvin scale. Plus! It's got monitors so we can check your vitals and make sure you're good when you're running. And if you give me like two seconds, I can fit you with an earpiece so we can give you information on the go."

Barry looked up at Cisco's bright face and felt his own smile coming on. "Thank you, Cisco. It means a lot that you guys are agreeing to help me like this."

"Well, you had better suit up," said Caitlin, looking over to him. "We just got a ping."

Changing was a little awkward but only because he had to do it in front of three people, and the suit was tight enough that Barry had difficulty keeping his briefs on. But he managed; when he was suited up and armed with the address, Barry turned back to the three of them.

"Be safe," said Iris. She looked — happy wasn't the right word, since she also looked like she might cry. But she looked almost hopeful, like watching Barry literally run off to be a hero was the best think she had seen in a long time.

"I will," said Barry, looking back at her with a smile.

"Don't break anything," said Caitlin, waving a finger at him. Her blank expression had morphed into one that looked more purposeful.

"I won't," said Barry.

"May the force be with you." And Cisco, well, Cisco was grinning from ear to ear.

Barry raised his hand in the Vulcan salute. "And may you also live long and prosper."

Then, he felt a rush run through him, and some part of him knew it was time to go. The rush of energy moved to his feet and it was almost like he could feel someone whisper in his ear, "Run, Barry, run!" And so he did, up the stars, out of STAR Labs, onto the roads toward the farm, as he stopped, sliding in the dirt, dust raised all around him.

There was a single barn on the property, and Barry raised over to it stopping inside when he saw Clyde sitting on a stool. "Clyde!" he said, a rush of relief uncoiling the anxiety in his chest. "Clyde, you're okay!"

Clyde looked up at him thunder booming overhead. "And who the fuck are you?"

Barry pulled the cowl down and smiled at his brother. "Clyde! It's Barry."

The thunder ceased as Clyde's eyes grew wide, tears spilling out. "Barry!" he cried, launching himself off of the stool and wrapping his arms around Barry. "Barry! Oh my god, I thought you were dead, man!"

Barry squeezed Clyde tight, partly to reassure himself that his brother was really there in his arms and still within his reach. "I'm here, I'm here. I'm so sorry I scared you Clyde. I was hurt — in a coma. But not dead, and now I'm okay, and we both have powers now."

Clyde hed Barry's face in his hands and really just looked him over for a minute. "You're sure you're okay?"

"Well, a bolt of lightning charged by a particle accelerator gave me superpowers, but yeah," Barry grinned at him. "I'm okay, Clyde, I really am. But, Clyde, are you okay? I saw the news, and I had to come looking for you."

"Oh." Clyde pulled away at the mention of the news. "I s'ppose then you saw about the bank."

"Nooo," said Barry, his brow furrowing. "I meant your car accident. Did you rob a bank too?"

Clyde backed up a little further until he could sit on the stool again. "Yeah. And then, well, the dealership wouldn't take the cash for the car, so I stole that too. Bear, I think something's gone wrong."

"Yeah, I think it has," said Barry with a nod "But it's nothing I can't help with. Can you think for me, when was the last time you had your medication?"

Clyde looked up at Barry, his overgrown bangs clouding his eyes. "Not since, well, not since the plane crash."

Barry didn't know when the plane crash had been, but he could guess that it had been several months in that case, maybe even as far back as the particle accelerator. "Okay," he said.

"I'm sorry, Bar, it's just I was doing okay without them, while I was healing you know? And sometimes they won't give you pain meds with'em, and well, I broke a lot of my shit after the crash." Clyde shifted from side to side and dropped his gaze away from Barry. "I know I should take them, but I thought things were fine. And then I started looking for Mark... and I just couldn't find him. So I came to find you, and the people in your apartment building said that you were in the hospital, and that they had taken you out of the hospital, and that Iris had come by to cancel your lease, and they all thought you were dead.”

Barry stepped forward and took his brother in his arms again. Clyde buried his face into Barry’s chest. “I dunno what to do, Bear. I thought Mark would come by now, but he hasn’t.”

“I’m here,” said Barry. “I’m here, Clyde, and I want to help you. Will you let me help you?”

“Please help me,” said Clyde, unmoving from their hug.

Barry held him for just a moment more before he said, “Clyde, I need you to surrender yourself to the police.”

Clyde jerked up pulling away from Barry. A cool jet of air shot down between them. “Give myself up? Bear, they’ll lock me up for years with what I’ve done.”

“I know,” said Barry with a nod. “I know, and it’s the only way we can get you the medical attention you need right now. If they give you an assessment and access your records, they’ll know you’re in need of medication.”

Clyde rolled his eyes. “Bear, I’m half crazy right now, and I can tell you that’s not how that works. They’re not gonna do anything, but half ass a trial and then lock me in the Heights. Maybe, maybe they’ll send me to psych, but sometimes they’re worse than gen pop. You wanna send me to a clinic? Fine, I’ll go. But I ain’t goin’ to jail, because that’s not what’s gonna help my head right now, Bear.”

For a moment, Barry couldn’t think of what to do or say. In his earpiece, speaking for the first time since they entered the barn, Caitlin said, “We’re looking clinics up now.”

“Something in Kansas or maybe Oklahoma,” said Iris. “Police will be putting out a BOLO in the rest of Missouri, but they won’t get the surrounding states.”

Barry sighed, then nodded. “Okay, I’ll take you to a clinic.”

Then Clyde went absolutely stiff and said, “Put your mask on, right now.”

Barry obeyed, pulling the cowl back on at superspeed. He turned to see Joe and Eddie, drawing their weapons on the two of them. He could hear Joe telling them to get on the ground, but his heart rate picked up, blood pumping in his ears making an almighty drum. When he will look back on all of this, Bary won’t be able to remember what was said or done — not exactly. What he knows, though, is that pretty soon, he has to carry Joe and Eddie out of the barn as Clyde becomes a walking tornado.

Barry runs and he runs, and all he wants is to reach his brother. He tries to go into the tornado, but the winds rebuff him. So, he picks himself up, and when Cisco says Barry will have to run seven hundred miles per hour to unravel the tornado, Barry begins to run. A little voice that sounds like the memory of his mother whispers, “run, Barry, run,” and he runs, and runs, and runs, and —

The tornado breaks apart, and Barry lands on the ground.

“Barry!” says Iris in his earpiece. “The tornado’s gone! Barry are you okay?”

“I’m,” Barry gasps for air, his landing having forced it all out of him. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“HEY!” Clyde looked down at him, gun in hand, fury written into the lines of his face. “What the fuck is wrong with you! They call me a freak they try to kill us both and you protect them!”

“I’m protecting you too,” said Barry, getting to his feet. Something told him Clyde wouldn’t fire on him. “Clyde, if you destroy a city, even if you just kill two cops, there’s no coming back from that. You’re my brother,” Barry moved a little closer and brought Clyde toward him.

“Barry I can’t stop,” Clyde said, trying to pull away.

Barry just wrapped his arms around Clyde. He didn’t try to take away the gun, he just held him, and held him tight. “You’re my brother, and I love you.”

“Why, why, why?” Clyde asked, still trying to pull away.

“Because you believed me, when no one else would,” said Barry. “You believed me when everyone said I was crazy and a liar, and so I believe in you, Clyde. I believe in you, I love you. You’re my brother, I love you. I believe in you, I love you.” Barry kept his repetition going, holding tight to his brother as they both began to cry.

Barry could feel it as Eddie and Joe as they came closer, standing just at Barry’s back. Someone took the gun away from Clyde. Barry thinks it’s Eddie who cuffs Clyde and puts him in the back of the police car, because it’s Joe who has his hands on Barry’s shoulder after Clyde goes just staring at him.

“He needs medical attention,” said Barry. “He’s been off his medication for a few months now, and he needs to go back on them. Please, Joe, please help him.”

Joe just stared at him for a moment. Then he nodded. “Okay, Bear. We’ll, we’ll help him out.”

Eddie turned from where he stood just outside of the police car. “Do… do you need medical attention, Barry?”

Barry shook his head, laughter falling out of his mouth in place of tears coming from his eyes. “I’m okay, I’m gonna be okay.” He reached out and hugged Joe tight, his arms full of wishing. He wished he knew Mark was okay. He wished he could go and hug his father. He wished he could go and hug his mother.

Joe pulled away from him. “I think, I think we need to go now,” he said. “But we’ll talk later?”

“Yeah,” said Barry with a nod. “Yeah, we will.”

He pulled up his cowl, and then looked to meet each of their eyes in turn. He held onto Clyde’s storm blue eyes for a moment as it started to rain. Then, with a wave, Barry ran.