So i challenged myself to write less dialogue and this is what came from it. Enjoy. Captain Singh knew Barry was a smart and near nerd kid, but he couldn't exactly call himself comfortable with the amount of time he spent at S.T.A.R. Labs. He understood how they helped him during the coma fiasco, and for that he was eternally grateful. But Barry had been sick for a few days and he knew he'd be at that lab.
It was his lunch break and David decided doing something constructive with his spare time was the way to go. So he took a little trip. When he left his office he gave Joe a stack of papers to prevent him from leaving and potentially following. He didn't really want to give Joe extra work, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
He drove all the way across town to find the run down S.T.A.R Labs. It really seemed like a safety violation to even walk through the front doors. They weren't locked. He took the elevator to the floor with the button that's color was starting to fade with the regular amount of usage.
The elevator didn't ding. Instead it merely stopped on the floor and opened its doors. He took the hallway in front of him, where he could see the doors open and light shining through a room. He was beginning to breathe heavily. Even if he didn't see Barry here, he had Barry's phone, which was a great excuse to come.
His steps were uneasy. The whole city was uneasy. After The Flash and Zoom's fight, it reminded him of when the particle accelerator exploded. The entire city's world had been destroyed and the only hope left was within the uneffected people. But everyone was effected. On both sides.
He peeked through the doorway. The room was filled with computers and monitors. It looked looked like some kind of command center. He took a few steps forward, after assuring nobody else was there. He looked to his left and saw a small lab within the lab. He understood why Barry liked that place. They probably let him pull experiments that he couldn't in his own lab.
Then something caught his attention. Just behind him was a steady beeping. It almost sounded like a heart monitor. He turned around and saw another room, this one with a bed in it. The occupant's legs, which was all David could see, were unmoving. Assuming they were asleep, David approached.
The closer he got the more disturbing the scene looked. A bruised and battered hand lay on top of the covers with veins visible. Just above that he saw a chest in the same condition, but with monitors attached to it. A neck was secured in a brace. But the worst thing was the face. It was the face of a young man in his mid twenties. Except... there was something familiar with that face.
A soft gasp escaped his lips when he finally understood what was going on. That face wasn't just anybody. It was Barry. He needed to step back and maybe sit down, but his legs carried him to the bed. The younger man had several machines hooked up to him and he was unconscious.
There was one thing, though, that just didn't add up to him. How could the kid possibly have gotten himself hurt this bad? He began running the possibilities through his head, but it all came up inconclusive. That was when Barry started to move.
He looked around the room irresolutely for a place to hide. Before he was able to do anything, his forensic scientist cracked open his eyes. The warm glow that was once existing in his smile was dampened. The positive feelings he sent through just being in the same room as him was gone. There were no words to describe the amount of pain he seemed to be in.
A small tear rolled down the young man's face. All that David wanted to do in that moment was to hug the poor kid. But he found being out of vision to be a bit more to his advantage. Seeing him like this, in that much pain, made him wonder how it was for him to get out of his coma. He'd read online about how when people wake up after long states of comatose, they needed to learn how to walk and do other seemingly simple tasks. For Barry it was just go, go, go. He hoped that was how long he would take to heal for whatever was in front of him.
The long silence was suddenly broken by eye contact. Barry had slowly turned his head as much as he could to his left and could see, what looked like to him, a blurry person. The figure had been wearing a white button down and suspenders. No. Not suspenders. One of those gun holsters they wore at the precinct.
That meant whoever he was seeing was either an officer or a detective. The only problem with that was he knew all of the people who worked there and none of them had that build.
David watched as Barry focused on him, most likely trying to figure out who he was. When he finally figured it out, David could see all of the pain and regret just in his eyes. The kid bit his lip and cried out in pain.
David rushed over to him and grabbed his arm to comfort him, but only seemed to make it worse. His hand retreated but hovered over the spot where it was set. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to help but everything he did just put him in more pain.
So he used his words.
"Hey, hey," he soothed. "Where does it hurt?"
"Everywhere," he cried.
"Well, where- where's your morphine," David suggested.
"Ther-," Barry paused to take a few deep breaths. They were shaky and harsh, almost making him sound like he was going to cough.
"Breath." David enunciated his breathing deeply.
"There is none," Barry calmed himself.
David lost it at those words. How could this gigantic laboratory not have a suitable painkiller? The boy was in a detrimental amount of pain and there was no way to stop it? How could Joe have signed him off to their care? The worst of it was no one was even in the building with him.
He looked around the medical room he was in for some kind of hydrocodone or methadone or at least some kind of sedative to keep him from pulling his hair out. While he was tearing the drug shelf to pieces, he could hear a faint "no," from Barry.
"What do you mean no," he asked. "Do you want to be in this pain?" He hadn't really meant to say it aloud, but he did.
"No, but, they- they don't work on me," he spoke with a raspy unused voice.
David thought for a moment. Why wouldn't the painkillers work on him? He didn't even know what kind he was looking for so it wouldn't be just the one kind. Speaking of which, he couldn't remember the last time he saw the scientist pop an ibuprofen in his mouth. He used to do it biweekly for the chronic headaches he would get but after the lightning...
"Allen," he paused. "I want you to answer this question, and I want you to do it honestly."
"I- I'm all about honesty sir."
"How- how did you get hurt so badly?"
Barry took a long pause. He looked conflicted about something. "Can you keep a secret," he said after a while.
David nodded. "As long as it's legal, I can."
"I'm a metahuman."
David took a step back from where he was standing. Barry Allen? A meta? "What did you do?"
"Saved Central City," he said with a half smile.
He sat down on Barry's legs, which he didn't seem to mind. "You- y- yo- you're-," he garbled.
"The, uh, The Flash," Barry finished.
There was dead silence. The only thing that could be heard was the beeping of the heart monitor and dripping of saline. David had seen The Flash many times before this, and the work that he'd done never fell short of phenomenal.
He recalled all of the times Allen was late or missing from his lab after his coma. It made him wander if all those times he was up to his work as The Flash. What if that was when he was injured?
Before they knew it ten minutes had passed.
David stood up. "I'm sorry, I must be crushing your legs," he said suddenly aware of having been sitting on The Flash's legs for the passed ten minutes.
"No, it's fine really," Barry insisted. "I'm not using 'em."
"Well they must be falling asleep."
Barry gave him a humorless laugh. "You have no idea."
"Idea about what?"
"It's only temporary, Barry," a female voice said walking in.
David felt like he recognized her, but for some reason he couldn't place it.
"Caitlin," Barry greeted as cheerfully as he could. "How long have you been there?"
"Wait," she smiled sadly. "You didn't actually think I'd leave you here by yourself, did you?"
"Hold on, what's only temporary," David stopped the mini pity party.
"Barry's temporary paralysis," Caitlin addressed.
"Tempo..," his voice trailed off into thought. "You can't walk?"
"Well, he can't right now but he should be good in maybe a week or so. Give or take."
"Give or take," David repeated. He was dumbfounded by her lack of bedside manner. Allen clearly didn't want to discuss this topic as he was fidgeting in the bed.
To spare the sanity of his young forensic scientist, he took the conversation with the doctor outside of his quarters. Dr. Snow explained to him, in a way to spare the most gruesome of details, the extent of Barry's injuries. When he heard about the security cameras, David insisted he watch them, not knowing just how sorry he'd be to do so.
He watched the tape and for a lack of better words, he was nauseated. Seven times, he watched it. And seven times he could hear the cries in pain and watched as the two speedsters fell from the roof in a battle of strength. He saw the part where the man came out with a gun and tried to shoot the monster, only to have his plan teared by the flick of the wrist. The moaning of suffrage from the young man was substantial, but nothing sickened David more than watching Zoom snap his spine like it was a twig.
He didn't need to find out what happens next. He already knew. Zoom dragged the lab rat throughout the city and held him up like a prize. All the monster wanted was to see the city fall to its knees at the cost of their hero. That was something he didn't want to let happen.
David gave Barry one last look before he left. The boy was fast asleep and looked somewhat peaceful after everything he had experienced not too long ago. He was beaten and humiliated but after all that, he still had a resting smile.