WARNING: SUICIDAL THOUGHTS AND SORT OF SELF-HARM IN THIS CHAPTER
When he was settled into the bed, it was done quite harshly. Judging by the almost satisfied hum from Caitlin when he involuntarily winced in pain, he knew the drop was very much intentional.
"Why does every hero have to be so darn... self-sacrificing?!" Caitlin was saying under her breath. She didn't bother being gentle as she sliced her way through his suit.
"That's the third suit this month, Queen!" Cisco yelled, but helped Caitlin get rid of it anyway to assess the damage their latest meta had done to him.
He could feel the pain from where the meta — a girl named Frankie — controlled a gun and emptied a whole magazine of bullets right into his torso. He was thankful for it, for the pain blossoming across his body like a breeze leaving him a gentle kiss for him to treasure it.
He'd been numb for the better part of a month. The only things that could provoke any sort of emotion from him were the adrenaline from kicking down criminals, and pain.
Pain, now that was something that lasted far longer than adrenaline.
"Holy—" Cisco squeaked.
"That's a lot of blood..." Iris' eyes were as wide as they could go, only saying it out loud not to state the obvious but to help her process.
There was a strong gust of wind that teased his open wounds and yellow lightning that he could only see in his periphery, before having materialized into Wally by his side. He could only guess that Wally had gathered all the medical supplies and instruments Caitlin would need for him.
Caitlin grabbed a pair of forceps, leveling her with a stern glare usually reserved for Barry.
Had been reserved for Barry.
"Gotta say, Oliver," she started to say, looking more than ready to brutally take out the bullets from his shredded torso, "it's almost like you're trying to kill yourself."
Almost.
He woke up. His mind was hazy, his body was numb and his vision was unfocused.
So just a typical Tuesday for him.
He glanced over to his side and found Caitlin reading over his charts.
He was about to ask her to take off the morphine.
He looked more closely at her and saw her shoulders shaking.
He closed his eyes and stayed quiet.
He'd retired from his vigilante-ing in Star City; they didn't need him anymore. They had a whole arsenal of heroes — and heck, an actual vigilante named Arsenal.
But Central City...
It'd been Barry's home. He'd been the sole hero of Central City. Cisco, Wally and Caitlin were there, but they weren't as experienced as he was or as Barry had been.
He had left Star City; it had stopped being his home for a long time.
Now, he was going to do everything in his power to protect Central City — his home — even if it killed him.
He owed it to Barry.
He woke up to yelling.
"Cisco, what did you see?"
There was no response.
"Cisco, tell us what you saw!"
"Barry."
His eyes snapped open.
"Oliver, just what the hell are you doing?"
It was a collective effort to keep him from leaving the room, having failed to keep him in bed. He was stumbling around; his torso was in excruciating pain and he savored it.
"I..." He'd ripped out his IV line before getting out of bed. Now that he was in front of the doorway — in front of a wall of people who didn't want him to leave, much less to stand — he was now realizing that he should have left the IV in for a little bit longer; he didn't like to be weak.
"You're going to get Barry." Iris' tone wasn't accusatory; she just sounded resigned.
"You are not in any condition be moving around right now," Caitlin practically growled. "If you think we don't see you holding back on us the amount of injuries you accumulate every night, not stopping to think about your own well-being, not sleeping, barely eating, then you are very much mistaken. I'm a doctor, for goodness' sake! I see everything! So right now, you're going to go back to bed so I can reattach your IV line and knock you out with the damn strongest sedative we have or so help me, Oliver, I will make—"
"Kara." Her name— God, he'd never said her name in such a long time that saying it now was like the sweetest coffee he'd ever tasted with a bitter aftertaste to remind him that he'd failed her. He'd failed to take care of her in their greatest time of need.
But how? He couldn't take care of her, not when he couldn't even take care of himself.
"I... I have to see her."
It hurt him to have her in his arms.
Not his torso — he didn't give a damn about his torso — but... his heart...
She was falling apart, had been for a long time, and he hadn't been there for her.
But Barry was alive.
He promised her they'd get him back together.
He promised himself he'd stop seeking pain. He'd had enough in the past month to last him a lifetime.
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