I feel like Joe doesn't get a lot of credit for all that he did for Barry. It couldn't have been easy raising a kid who had been through a trauma like that. We all know how obsessed Barry is with his tragic past in the show. If that's him at age 25, I wonder how bad it was when he was going through high school. One of the things I admire most about Barry is how he hasn't allowed his past to dim his soul. He's so full of light and happiness, but at the same time, he's carrying this huge burden all the time. Really, the more I think about Barry's adolescence, the more impressed I am that he turned out so normal.

I consider this fic canon for all of my stories—and in my mind, for the show, itself. I make a lot of references to things that happen in this fic in my other stories, just so you all know.

The Screams

Joe had only been asleep for an hour when he heard the screams. They were familiar to him, being a common sound that regularly issued from the sixteen year old's bedroom that was next to his. Joe looked at the clock. A little after midnight. He heard Barry scream again.

Joe quickly but calmly climbed out of bed and made his way over to Barry's room. His door was open, and the teenager was thrashing in his sleep as he called out again.

"Mom! Please! Mom!"

"Barry," Joe said in a soothing yet loud voice as he sat on the edge of Barry's bed next to him. He placed a hand on Barry's shoulder to try to shake him awake. The kid was drenched in sweat.

"Barry, wake up!"

"Please, don't kill her! Please!" he whimpered.

"Barry!" Joe said a little more forcefully, shaking both of his shoulders now. With a gasp, Barry woke up, his eyes snapping open quickly. He didn't try to sit up, but instead laid there breathing heavily as he looked up at his foster father.

"Joe," he breathed, wiping his eyes. His face had been covered with tears mingled with sweat.

"It's okay, son," Joe said, "I've got you. It's okay."

Barry took a deep breath and wiped the remaining tears and sweat from his face before sitting up in bed. He tried in vain to stop the shaking of his hands, and when he failed at this, he put them under the blankets out of sight. It didn't matter though. Joe had already seen. He also noticed that Barry was still breathing heavily.

"Where are your pills?" Joe asked Barry quietly. Barry looked at him with weary eyes.

"I don't need them, Joe," he insisted, "I'm fine."

"Where are they, Barry?" Joe asked again in a firm voice.

Barry sighed. In defeat, he pointed absently at his nightstand. Joe promptly opened the drawer of Barry's nightstand to pull out the little orange prescription bottle.

"Joe, I'm fine," Barry said again, his breathing starting to improve.

Joe ignored him though as he popped off the lid and tipped a little blue pill into the palm of his hand. He held it out to Barry with a serious yet sympathetic look on his face. Barry looked wearily back at him, but he obeyed as he took the pill out of Joe's hand and placed it in his mouth, chasing it with a few mouthfuls of water. Joe watched him sadly as he placed the glass of water back on his nightstand.

"It's getting worse, Bar," Joe said worriedly.

"I'm alright," Barry assured him, "It's just been a stressful week. That's all."

"It's been more than just a week," Joe said lightly, "It's been getting worse over the last three weeks now."

Barry didn't respond to that. He just looked down at his lap as Joe surveyed him with worried eyes.

"Is it the time of year?" Joe asked quietly, "You seem to always get worse this time of year."

It was true. Barry had been with them for five years now, and that had been enough time for Joe to notice the pattern. Barry's nightmares always worsened around the holidays, near the time when his mother had died. Barry usually didn't need his anti-anxiety meds very often, but this time of the year, Joe found himself visiting the pharmacy for refills a little more frequently.

"I just have a lot of finals," Barry answered, "I'll be better once they're over with and we go on winter break. I'm starting to regret taking all these AP classes."

Barry tried to smile, but it wasn't very convincing. Joe knew better than to press him though. When Barry doesn't want to talk about something, there usually wasn't anything that could be done to get him to open up. He was just stubborn that way.

"Okay, Bar," Joe said in an unconvinced voice, "Just know that if you want to talk about it, I'm here for you, whenever you're ready."

Barry nodded gratefully. With a sigh, Joe stood up from where he had been perched on the edge of Barry's bed. He set the bottle of lorazepam back on Barry's nightstand and took a few steps to stand in the doorway, where he paused.

"Do you want me to stay with you for a while?" Joe asked, "Until you fall back asleep?"

"I'm okay," Barry said, laying back on the pillow again, "Goodnight, Joe."

"Goodnight, Barry," Joe said sadly.

He left the door open and the hall light on as he left.

Being sixteen years old now, Barry Allen was much too proud to admit that he wanted the light left on, but Joe always remembered how terrified of the dark Barry had been when he first moved in with them when he was eleven. Barry would never admit to it, but the dark still made him uncomfortable in the aftermath of one of his night terrors, and having some source of light made it slightly easier for him to fall back asleep.

As Joe got back into his own bed, he couldn't help but worry about the teenager. Barry was starting to get bad again, and even though he seemed perfectly fine during his waking hours, Joe knew Barry was struggling internally. What Joe didn't know was what to do about it. He wanted to help the boy who had been through so much, but he didn't know how he was supposed to do that. Barry had seen things that no one his age (or any age for that matter) should ever have to see. He had been living with them for five years, yet sometimes Joe still felt like he wasn't equipped to deal with something like this. Barry's situation was far from ordinary, and Joe was doing the best he could to help the kid.

His mother had been murdered right in front of him. That's a lot for any person to deal with, especially a child. Barry had every right to be at least a little messed up in the head from it, and although five years may seem like a long time, it often still felt very fresh for the teenager. It seemed like every milestone, every important moment in Barry's life—his first dance, transitioning into high school, learning to drive, going on his first date—all of it was tainted by the bitter fact that his parents weren't there to share it with him.

Joe just wanted what was best for Barry. He was responsible for this amazing human being who had seen so much tragedy despite his young age, and Joe just didn't want to mess this up. He didn't want to do or say something that would make Barry worse. Barry could grow up to be an incredible person, but it wasn't going to be easy. He had to overcome all of the darkness in his life in order to get there, and Joe wanted to do everything in his power to help Barry through all of it.