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"We're done for today, Barry," Dr. Wells says genially, "Thank you."
Barry returns his smile, sitting up as slowly as he dares. He's sure Dr. Wells doesn't mean to cause these awful headaches after their sessions, and the last thing he wants is for him to feel guilty over something he can't control. Suppressing a wince, he rises from the comfortable chaise-longue and makes for the door. The clock resting above it says it's lunchtime; maybe he'll feel better after he gets some food in him.
(He knows from experience that he won't, but it's nice to have optimism.)
Einstein's waiting for him, puppy eyes turned all the way up. Barry's smile softens into something a little more genuine when he sees him. Feels like forever since he has—Dr. Wells always puts up a mental block between them to prevent accidental interference. Thankfully it's not a strong barrier; Barry need only touch his dragon to reopen the floodgates.
Although "touch" is a bit mild. Barry's headache is already making him dizzy, so he practically collapses against Einstein, nearly knocking their heads together. Einstein croons his concern when he feels residual pain.
Barry starts feeling the pain recede. "No, don't do that," he mumbles against the wonderfully tingly scales, "'m alright."
"I beg to differ."
The voice doesn't startle Barry. Arc's constantly below-freezing body temperature leaves a big enough imprint on Len that he usually radiates cold. Which is actually a good thing right now, because that means his hands are like refreshing ice packs. Still, Barry doesn't move from where he's cradling Einstein's head against his own. He turns so his cheek rests on the dragon's snout.
Len hasn't made it a secret that he doesn't like Dr. Wells and his methods of studying Barry's unique abilities, and today is no different. His arms aren't crossed, but his posture is tense and his eyes roam Barry's frame as if to check for visible injury.
Barry ignores this. "Hey," he mutters. A perfectly cool hand rests on the back of his neck. "Mm, thanks."
"Your dragon can't dodge much, but he's a tough bastard," Len says, because a simple 'you're welcome' would just be asking too much. "Stop being an idiot about this."
The oncoming migraine's painful enough for Barry's glare to come off as a very intent squint more than anything. "He c'n dodge Arc's ice better than anyone."
Len's hand tightens on the back of his neck. "Irrelevant. Let him take some of the pain."
Einstein hums pleasantly, the added vibrations joining Len's cold hands putting Barry between a pillow and a soft place. His eyes drift closed on a sigh. Why did he think it was a good idea to let Len hang out with Einstein? They worked way too well together. Although, Barry supposes he is partially to blame; after all, he had been the one to approach Len about the idea of their dragons spending more time together.
Just enough so I don't throw up, he finally grumbles, because oh, he is so weak.
Einstein nuzzles him, and Barry tries not to groan in the middle of the near-empty hallway as the pain retreats to a whisper.
"That's too much," he starts, but Len interrupts, "Barry, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but that is a dragon you're bonded to. As in, not human. His tolerance for pain is different from yours."
Barry retaliates by wrapping his arms around Einstein's neck and snapping, "Shut up Len, he's very delicate."
Dr. Wells' sessions also make him a little loopy. Side effect of the pain, maybe, or from the way his mind is literally combed through with mental fingers until it's all strung out and stripped bare. Possibly both.
The tension doesn't abate from Len's posture. He covers it with an irritating smirk, guiding Barry from the Faculty Building with a steady hand on his back. This turns into his arm slipping around his shoulders, free hand pressing against his chest to steady him. Barry gets a bit—clingy when he's like this. He'd be embarrassed, but honestly he's too wrung out to care.
Einstein grips his sleeve with his tiny talons, gently tugging until his rider's fingers rest between his own. Physical contact makes pain transference easier. Barry should tell Dr. Wells about that.
What happens is this: every Tuesday and Thursday, Barry walks into Dr. Wells' office and greets Gideon, the gunmetal grey dragon with salt-and-pepper overtones to her scales. She is not Dr. Wells' dragon, contrary to popular belief; she doesn't actually have a bond with any rider. Being a Knowledge Sigil, she prefers to assist and teach, and she happens to enjoy having her own brand of independence as Dr. Wells' personal assistant.
Gideon greets him with sparkling eyes and kindness. Usually she's arranging a set of holograms—dragons can't use computers, so she and her draconic colleagues developed a revolutionary HoloSet, like something out of a sci-fi movie or Barry's wet dreams—yet she never hesitates to pause in her work to greet everyone, even if they have standing appointments and need no direction. Needless to say, everyone likes Gideon.
For some reason, it's Dr. Wells who gets mixed opinions. Sure, he's not as open or kind as Gideon, but he's perfectly polite, professional, and friendly. Not to mention he's a genius; how many geniuses actually have reliable social instincts? (No offense, Felicity.)
Anyway. Dr. Wells greets Barry with all the eagerness of a scientist about to embark on a revolutionary experiment. Regardless, there's always that undercurrent of genuine fondness and respect flowing between them, which is essential for what comes next: Barry lies back on the chaise longue and closes his eyes. Dr. Wells puts his hands on either side of his face.
And then, Barry surrenders his mind.
Every thought, every thought of a thought, every desire all the way down to what he wants for lunch that day, all of it is freely open to Dr. Well's thorough examination. In doing so, Dr. Wells gains new knowledge of what Barry's unique bond with Einstein can do, to the point where he might actually know things Barry hasn't discovered yet. Usually he focuses primarily on the bond itself; however blocked, it still shines and crackles with life. Sometimes, though, he'll ask permission to sort through some memories. Learning about the cause of this bond is just as important as the effect, he says. Did something happen in Barry's childhood that made him more susceptible to his situation? What was it about him that allowed his system to survive the lightning and a sudden bond with a previously unhatched dragon?
Of course Barry lets him. There is no violation of privacy, no loss of respect. He trusts Dr. Wells implicitly.
"I don't," Len bluntly states. No matter how many times Barry explains his bi-weekly sessions, most of his friends still look at Wells like he's some evil mastermind who plans on leaving Barry an empty shell one of these days.
Fortunately, Caitlin and Cisco are sitting right across from him on the blanket they've spread in the big lunch field. (Mess halls are overrated when you can literally go out and eat lunch with your dragon.) They jump to help him out, because they are apparently the only two humans there who see sense.
"Dr. Wells has helped Barry and Einstein discover whole aspects of their bond that they didn't even know existed," Caitlin points out, "Not to mention he's given Barry closure on what happened to him, which he didn't even need to do."
Damn right he had. Thanks to Dr. Wells' kindness, Barry can remember the night his mother died and know he hadn't been hallucinating a man in a yellow suit. While he'd always trusted his eyes, to have someone else actually reaffirm his claims lifts and indescribable weight from his shoulders.
Cisco hastens to add, "I'd say the headache's worth it. Dr. Wells obviously doesn't mean to cause it." his little Catalina chooses that moment to get his attention, growling genially in his lap. "You want some?" he coos, breaking his licorice. Like him, Catalina has an insatiable sweet tooth.
She wriggles her limbs, making little happy noises that can and have made people like Leonard Snart melt into her talons. "Yeah?" Cisco grins.
All thoughts of Dr. Wells fade as Barry watches this exchange. "Why does she have to lie on her back like that?" he asks, "It's not fair!"
Iris laughs from where she's lounging on her Wilde's broad shoulders. "Like you're one to talk!" she says.
And, okay, that might be true. But Barry resting his head on Len's lap is not nearly as adorable as Catalina squishing herself in her rider's legs and making cute noises. When he says this, Len shrugs a shoulder and murmurs, "Could've fooled me."
Barry smacks both hands to his face, ignoring the way his head pulses on impact. "That's not even—you really need to work on your lines."
Len smirks around the fry in his mouth. "Now why would I do that? Worked just fine on you."
Lisa interjects as she gently scratches Catalina's belly, "Well, Barry does have questionable tastes and terribly low standards." She winks at her brother's raised eyebrow. "Bad puns and awful lines seem to be his turn-on."
"A match made in Heaven," Iris sighs, pressing a hand to her chest.
Barry wants to hit them both, but he's too comfortable right now. He settles for silently calling Einstein to his side, because if there's anything that can solve teasing about cuddles, it's more cuddles.
Fuck, his head hurts.
Reluctantly, Barry forces himself to sit up as Einstein trots over. Autumn's small mercies allow the sky to be cloudy, so the light doesn't stab his eyes when he leaves the shade of Len's body. He gets a questioning look made sharp with concern and 'I-will-haul-your-ass-to-the-infirmary-don't-think-I-won't'. Barry has to give Len a kiss for that—his aggressive caring is actually kind of nice.
Cisco and Lisa pretend to gag behind them, like they're not ten times worse.
"Hey, buddy," Barry mumbles when Einstein plops down next to him. He gratefully settles on top of his dragon, sighing in contentment as Einstein's thick tail and skinny arms wrap around him.
The pain retreats. This time, Barry lets it go without a fight.
Felicity pokes Oliver's side. "Penny for your thoughts?"
Oliver shakes his head. "I don't trust Harrison Wells either."
Felicity makes an exasperated noise, settling her chin on his shoulder. "Not you too. Oliver, he's just trying to help Barry."
"Whatever his surface intentions are, there's still something—off about him."
Verdant hums her agreement. "What Dr. Wells is doing to Allen should not leave someone so young and resilient in such pain. Especially when one considers Dr. Wells' experience in the field of psychoanalyzing."
Felicity narrows her eyes. "Okay...point." she bites her lip. "Y'know..." Tesla, glowing silvery blue, climbs up her arm. He's figured out how to reconfigure himself on an atomic level, so he's about the size of a kitten at the moment, and looking far too mischievous for Oliver's liking. "I bet Tesla and I could do some hard digging on him."
"With Gideon's firewalls?" Diggle interjects, "Felicity, you're good, but I dunno if even you're that good."
Felicity grins, letting both men know she's already set her mind on it. "I won't be doing it alone. Tesla can literally go inside a console. Besides, I haven't had any real fun in weeks!"
Much as Oliver doesn't want to encourage such a dangerous task, he feels himself starting to smile. "You were on assignment with me two days ago."
"In weeks, Oliver!"
Laurel holds up her water bottle. "I, personally, would love to see how this plays out."
Felicity grins. "I'll let you know what I find."
When Barry opens his eyes, he's still ensconced in Einstein. I didn't doze off, did I?
Einstein replies with the image of Len's hands clasped over his bent knee. On his wrist is an analog watch. According to its fancy hands, Barry did in fact doze off, but only for about forty-five minutes. His class with Captain Singh still doesn't start for another two hours; Tuesdays and Thursdays are light for Barry, thanks to Dr. Wells' insistence.
Can I...? Einstein immediately lets him all the way in, allowing him to get a look around the field through his dragon's eyes. Plenty of people are still having lunch, enjoying the relatively warm weather while it lasts. Eddie's finally arrived, his griffin Arthur enjoying a nice preening from Wilde's experienced talons while he and Iris hold each other on Wilde's enormous back. Lisa's gone to her Prepubescent Dragon Care seminar, probably because she shares it with Cisco and Barry knows she's also secretly terrified of messing up somehow with her own Venus. That dragon is still small enough to fit inside her pocket; if and when Venus hits her first growth spurt, Lisa wants to be prepared.
Caitlin's typing away at her computer, her griffin Rosalind settled regally around her, reading over her shoulder. She and Len aren't talking, but that's because they don't really have anything to talk about. True to Einstein's image, Len sits near Einstein's head with one leg stretched out, the other bent, his hands clasped over his knee. Arc's stretched behind him, forming a kind of protective barrier that includes Einstein and Barry.
About ten feet from their group is Oliver, Felicity, Diggle, and Laurel. (Barry can only hope the others are actually in class—Oliver can talk all he wants about punctuality, but his chosen team has a tendency to play hooky more than Barry's. Thea and Roy's negligence alone defeats the purpose of Oliver's lectures.) Diggle's finished his lunch first, as usual. His broad, gigantic, black and gold Springsteen is chatting away with Felicity's Tesla and Laurel's lean, tan and brown Loisel. For her part, Verdant seems to be listening and observing their exchange, as is her way. Felicity and Oliver, Barry need only glance at before deciding they're off in their own world.
Barry returns to the darkness of his closed eyes. I should get up. Einstein croons a protest, hugging him closer. I feel better, you know I do. And someone has to convince Len and Arc they have to go to class.
Einstein perks up at the mention of Arc. He hides it so badly that Barry gives him an affectionate squeeze before rolling onto the grass.
Len leans over him. "Better?"
Barry accepts the kiss. "Better. Now come on, you've got class in ten minutes."
"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean."
Here we go.
The next day, Oliver heads to Felicity's favorite corner of the library's upper levels. However much she adores food, she has a terrible habit to forget to eat when she's working on something; Gideon's firewalls are definitely not going to be an exception.
Yet before he can reach the steps, he bumps right into her.
She grins. "Oliver! Hi! What are you doing here?"
Oliver's eyebrows furrow. "I—came by to remind you it's time for dinner."
"Aw, that's so sweet! You definitely get boyfriend points for that one. Not that I'm rating you, because that would be objectifying, and I don't do that. Objectifying, I mean."
Normally her tangents would make Oliver smile. Not so today. "I thought you would be knee-deep in Gideon's firewalls."
Felicity snorts, waving a hand in the air. "Oh, those," she says, already walking past him, "yeah, there's no way I'm getting past those things."
Oliver blinks. "You said you wanted a challenge."
She shrugs, "One I can actually do, sure."
What?
"Felicity," Oliver catches her arm, "are you okay?"
Felicity tilts her head. "I'm great, why?"
There's a vacancy in her expression that sets off his internal alarms. Verdant's presence amplifies in an instant, quickly assessing Oliver's images of Felicity's eyes with him while he continues to talk to her.
"It's just—you never back down from a challenge, especially one like this. You've been dying to try your hand at Gideon's security since you met her."
"I am not going to break into Dr. Wells' files."
Oliver stiffens. That did not sound like Felicity, but an obedient child reciting something from the blackboard.
He did something to her, he seethes to Verdant while smiling at Felicity like nothing is wrong.
We were right not to trust him, Verdant snarls. Where is Tesla?
Oliver asks. On cue, Tesla peeks out from inside Felicity's coat. He doesn't look right either—his glow has diminished, and his gaze is horrifyingly empty.
Verdant roars in Oliver's head.
"Are you okay?" Felicity asks.
Oliver forces his smile to reach his eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine."
"Then let's go! I could eat a whole cow—or maybe that's just Tesla talking. No, definitely me. I am going to have an entire cow."
Oliver kisses her head. We need to get Barry away from Wells.
And then? Verdant rumbles.
Oliver need only take one more glance at Felicity's eyes to make his decision. And then we kill him.