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Hartley didn't know his roommate very well. And perhaps moving in with a member of C.C.P.D. given his extra-cirricular activities may not have been his wisest idea, but he'd been desperate enough to ask Chip for help, and Chip only had one aquaintaince who was also desperate enough to rent a very cheap apartment with a stranger.
Barry seemed nice. He kept himself to himself and darted out at odd times, but that suited Hartley. He was friendly enough, but Hartley didn't really do friends. It was fine; Barry was a considerate roommate, and they had found an arrangment that worked for them both. It was better Hartley kept his distance, for both of them.
Barry hadn't answered when Hartley had dragged himself in. That at least had been a relief. Hartley had assumed he'd be out all evening, possibly all night, he often was.
Hartley had decided he'd rather not know if Barry was seeing someone.
On second thoughts, he'd rather Barry had been seeing someone.
The two of them locked eyes, Hartley from his perch on the table, hand still holding the cloth against his side, Barry from where he'd stepped through the door looking like he'd been hit by a bus.
Hartley lunged for his gauntlet as the Flash skittered forward.
He didn't have time to dodge the punch, but Barry didn't have time to dodge his blast either. He fell back, landing awkwardly.
Hartley grabbed his side and Barry coughed violently.
His eyes landed on Hartley's cloth.
"Truce," Barry said, raising his hands.
He kept his hands raised and stood slowly, inching forward.
Hartley kept the gauntlet aimed at him, but Barry pulled a chair around and sat next to him. He pulled the first aid kit towards himself.
"Show me," he said.
"Why would I trust you?" Hartley asked.
"I'm not the one who tried to kill you earlier. I just want to help, I promise."
Hartley watched him, keeping his gauntlet close, but all Barry did was ease the rag out of his hand.
He winced as he saw the gash across Hartley's side.
"You should really see a doctor," Barry said.
"I think we both know you're not going to convince me to do that," Hartley said.
"I know. I'm going to wipe it with antiseptic, this will sting."
Hartley breathed through gritted teeth as Barry wiped gently over it. He grabbed a bandage and started wrapping.
"Why are you helping me?" Hartley asked.
"Because you're hurt and you need help. I saw blood outside and you didn't answer when I called."
"I didn't hear you."
Hartley dropped his gauntlet. He brushed a trickle of blood from the corner of Barry's mouth.
Barry tensed at the contact.
"You're hurt," Hartley said.
"I've seen a doctor," Barry said.
"How are you hurt?"
"Do I really need to explain?"
Barry looked at him, an eyebrow raised.
"The Flash isn't supposed to be able to get hurt," Hartley said. "He gets up after everything and he's back running after things that should kill a person."
"I heal fast," Barry said. "It still hurts."
"I didn't know it was you."
"But you knew it was someone."
"I'm sorry."
"So am I. Why?"
"I just needed a way to stop the Flash. You. I wouldn't have-"
"Why do any of it," Barry said. "I get it, music tutoring doesn't pay that-"
"The tutoring covers enough," Hartley said. "I have only used that to cover rent, any of it, you haven't benefitted from anything I've stolen. I don't keep it."
"What do you do with it?"
"Life isn't fair. I can't make it fair, but I can't do nothing."
Barry nodded.
"I didn't want you involved," Hartley said.
"I probably should arrest you," Barry said.
"Harrison Wells is a liar."
"What?"
"He fired me for telling him the accelerator would fail. It wasn't an accident. This was meant to be revenge, but the more I found..."
"I get it," Barry said. He sighed. "Doctor Wells saved my life. I can't just..."
"He can run like you."
"He's paralysed, Hartley."
"I have evidence. I can prove it."
"Show me."