One call away.

Joe's eyes snapped open as a blood-curdling scream of a child pierced through the air. He jumped up, running down the hall in a minute.

Joe was a seasoned detective, but neither bodies nor blood could scare him as much as the sound coming from the room at the end of the hall.

He opened the door and ran in, instantly running to the young boy who sat curled in on himself while shaking and gasping in his bed.

"Barry," he breathed, pulling him into his arms, "I gotcha, you're okay."

Barry, as much as Joe wished he was, was not his son, instead Barry had been born to the Allen's, Nora and Henry.

It wasn't until Nora had been murdered by her husband that Barry had been brought into his life. It definitely hadn't been easy for Barry, he had been plagued by nightmares, but only a few of them ended like these. This must have been one of the ones with "the man in the lighting", the being he was convinced killed his mother.

Joe held Barry close as his shaking became violent trembles. "Its alright Barr." He whispered as Barry gasped, the sound was like a vise closing around Joe's heart. "I'm right here."

Joe pulled Barry closer, he could feel his small heart beating faster than Joe thought was possible. He stroked his hair, the silky brown hair damp with sweat, the poor boy was drenched in it.

Joe placed his hand on Barry's chin, slowly pulling it up so they made eye contact. "Barry?" He asked, moving him into a more comfortable position, "Barry, can you hear me?"

Barry looked at him with unfocused green eyes, his trembling slowly coming to a stop, but that didn't stop the gasping. He nodded slowly, before letting his head droop and hit his chest.

"Barry, you gotta slow down your breathing, you're gonna hurt yourself." He told him gently, brushing a lock of wet hair away from his face.

Barry was unresponsive. Causing a nervous chill to go up Joe's spine, he knew that things fading, feeling detached from reality was a symptom of a panic attack, but it always killed Joe when it happened to the boy. "Barr," Joe said, gently patting Barry's cheek, "come on. Answer me, Barr."

Barry's head lolled to Joe's chest, his eyes were squeezed shut. "Joe." He whispered, shaking hands clutching onto Joe's shirt.

"Come on Barr, breathe in..." Joe started, taking a deep breath through his diaphragm, "and breathe out."

Barry whimpered again, pushing his face farther into Joe's chest.

Joe shook his head. "Not what I told you to do, Barry." He told him, gently moving his head from his chest, his gasping beginning to even out.

Barry looked up at him, his forest green eyes were open wide. He looked pitiful, his face slick with sweat, his mouth opened, quickly puffing short and shallow breaths.

Joe continued to breath deeply, as Barry started to catch on. He rubbed Barry's shoulder, leading him through the exercise.

He continued to hold him as the last of the tremors and gasping finally faded. "Barry?" He asked, making sure he was alright now.

Barry kept his head buried in Joe's chest, a small sob escaping him.

Joe sighed, repositioning Barry in his lap. "Barr.." he soothed, running his hand through Barry's hair as he sobbed into Joe's shirt, "it's alright, I got you."

They sat there for a moment while Barry's tears reduced to sniffles, before Joe stood up and grabbed a blanket, holding him tightly.

Barry looked up as Joe stepped quietly out of the room and down the hall, being careful not to wake up his daughter.

They knew what would happen next, it had become routine after nights like this, these attacks didn't happen daily, but it definitely happened three or four times a month. They would go downstairs and Joe would make them both a cup of hot cocoa, holding him in his arms and allowing him to cry, then Joe would make Barry tell him about his dream.

Joe laid Barry down on the sofa, placed the blanket beside him, and walked into the kitchen, thankful for the open concept so he could keep an eye on his foster son.

He began thinking about Barry as he began pouring the milk into a pot and placing it on the stove.

Barry was the sweetest little boy Joe had ever known, the smartest as well, and though he felt horrible for thinking it, he was happy Barry had come to live with him, no, he loved the Allen's, what had happened to their family had been tragic, who knew what had actually happened in that house that night, whether it had been Henry, or "the man in the lightning" who killed Nora, it was under the worst circumstances that Barry had become Joe's foster son, but he was happy that he had taken him in.

As he stirred the warming milk Barry wrapped himself in the blanket and closed his eyes making Joe look up at the clock, it was 3:47 a.m. It was late, the sun faded long ago and wouldn't be up for hours.

"Barry?" He called, pouring the heated milk into the cups with hot chocolate mix. "You still awake?"

Barry nodded, sitting up and changing the way the blanket was wrapped around him so it was laying on his back but draping over his shoulders and arms.

Joe handed him one of cups, and took a sip from the other one, the warm, soothing drink relaxing tense muscles as he felt it run down his throat.

He waited a minute before looking back to Barry, he looked tired and sad. "So, what was it this time?" He asked gently, taking another sip from his cup.

Barry gulped. "It... it was him..." He whispered, as if saying what he was would summon him here. "He came for you and Iris, and I..." He choked on tears. "I couldn't stop him."

Joe took the cups and set them on the coffee table. "The man in the lightning?" He questioned, making sure he got the right mythical creature. He knew this was Barry's only irrational fear, this one man who supposedly killed his mother, it plagued his nightmares, always coming after something. Joe had told him more than once that there was no man in lightning, but it was his father, but Barry was more stubborn than a mule, and after a few times of shed tears and trying to run away, they tried not to talk about it, they silently agreed to disagree, even though Joe knew he would never believe in "the man in the lightning", and Barry would never believe his father was a murderer.

Barry nodded slowly. "Yeah..." The sound was pitiful, and Joe hated that.

He pulled Barry to his side. "Hey, I'm right here, Iris is upstairs in bed, and you're sitting next to me. The man in the lightning isn't going to get us, he's probably sleeping, just like you should be." He told him, hoping what he said didn't cross a line.

Barry leaned against Joe's side. "I just don't wanna lose you..." He whimpered, a few tears running onto his cheeks.

Joe sat up and placed his hands on Barry's shoulders. "Barry, I ain't ever gonna leave you. I'm not that easy to get rid of, you understand?"

Barry nodded, then yawned, his eyes beginning to droop.

Joe smiled at him. "Come on Barr, it way past bedtime." He said, scooping him into his arms, then walking upstairs and into his room.

He placed him on his bed and pulled the covers up. "Goodnight Barry."

Barry turned to him. "Will you stay with me? Just till I'm asleep.." He asked sleepily, a yawn escaping him.

Joe nodded and sat on Barry's bed. "Yeah, and Barry, if you ever need me, I'm only one call away." He told him, running a hand through Barry's hair. "Night Barr."

"Goodnight Joe."