A/N: First of all, it's become clear to me that this is obviously going to be a lot more than three chapters! I see now that my outline was way too ambitious for only three chapters, so I'll let you know when I have some idea of how long this will end up being. Anyway, once again, this chapter is even longer than the last! I'm getting so into this story, and I'm getting very excited about some of the stuff I have planned! I hope to have more for you soon, but for now, there's this. So many of you have said very kind things about this story, and I really, sincerely appreciate your feedback! I hope this chapter continues to not disappoint y'all :)
Barry sat on the lumpy green couch in the break room, slurping a mug of hot chocolate, legs folded underneath him and face blank. Joe watched cautiously from his spot at the little round table as he ate his sandwich.
He had no idea what was going to happen to Barry. He had dealt with countless murders before, had seen his fair share of orphaned children—but never had it felt so personal. He'd never had to deal with the kids beyond his police duties, and he could feel how very far out of his depth he was here, even having been handling it for less than twelve hours.
A knock came on the door, and Joe looked up as Denise, the social worker who'd been assigned to the Allen case, stuck her head in.
"Detective West, could I talk to you for a moment?" He glanced at Barry, whose careful gaze slid from Denise to Joe.
"I'll be right out here if you need anything, Barry," Joe said as he stood, leaving his sandwich where it sat. "I won't be long."
He headed to the door, which Denise was holding open for him, and offered Barry a small smile as Denise let it close.
"So he stayed with you last night?" she asked, getting immediately to business. Joe had seen her with families and kids before; she cared, but she was firm and could be tough when needed—a good person to have on your side.
"Yeah," he answered. "He and my daughter are friends, he's spent the night with us before."
"Of course," she said. "Well, I was looking at the victim's paperwork—the father's sister, Katherine, is listed as the godmother. I tried to contact her but she apparently died last year, and they didn't ever update it. I'll need to talk to Barry and see if he has other family we can contact—unless you know of someone?" Joe shook his head. "Okay. Well, it looks like we may have to put him in foster care then—probably just for a few days." Joe shook his head firmly.
"He can stay with me until you get in touch with someone."
"That's definitely preferable. Hopefully it'll be just a few days." Denise glanced at the closed door, then back to Joe. "How's he doing?" Joe gave a heavy sigh.
"I'm not sure," he admitted. "Devastated, probably traumatized. You were watching his statement?" he asked, and she nodded.
"Yes, the thing with the lightning. I've seen it before—kids who've seen such horrific things sometimes come up with fantastical explanations. I'd imagine that's especially true in his case, given that it seems the perpetrator is someone he trusted and admired." She sighed and swept a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm definitely going to have him see a counselor, but I think that can wait a few days until he's in a more permanent situation."
"So what'll happen to him?" Joe asked, and Denise gave a little sigh.
"Assuming the D.A. charges Henry Allen," she said slowly, "well, he's a first time offender, and I can't think of any reason he'd be considered a flight risk. So, I'm sure he'll be out on bail and have custody until the trial."
"What?" Joe asked sharply. "You can't let that happen!"
"Well," Denise said, glancing at the closed door and lowering her voice slightly. "If that happens, I may be able to get custody revoked until the trial on the suspicion of domestic abuse, given that the victim was his wife. But if Barry wants to stay with his dad, it'll get ugly." Joe rubbed his eyes, and Denise raised her voice back up to its normal volume. "Of course, there's no point worrying about that until we know if the D.A is even going to charge him."
"He's gonna charge him," Joe said tiredly. "I guarantee it." At Denise's raised eyebrow, he shrugged. "I've been doing this long enough. They have more than enough."
"Well, I need to go talk to Barry and see what other family he has. Captain wanted you to go be in there when they question the dad."
Henry was refusing to give them anything to work with. He insisted he was innocent, but his story matched Barry's almost exactly—which was not a good sign, as Barry's seemed to be the delusions of a traumatized little boy. Now, worryingly, it seemed as if he had possibly been coached.
Joe's partner was alone in the room with Henry, but periodically Henry would turn to the camera and plead that Joe, who he had accurately guessed was watching on the monitor outside the room, tell them what a good guy he was.
"Our kids are friends! Tell them, Joe!"
Lacey, who had been adjusting one of the many knobs on the board at the base of the monitor, turned and glanced at Joe curiously.
"For God's sake, he's let his daughter stay at my house!" Henry cried, turning back to Joe's partner.
"What do you make of him?" the captain murmured, leaning toward Joe's ear.
Joe watched as Henry repeated the ridiculous story, complete with lightning and Barry teleporting, and sighed. Despite having claimed to have witnessed the stabbing, he could provide no description of the supposed suspect, not even a gender, nor could he explain how they had gotten in the house or where they had gone after killing Nora. It was too absurd.
"He's right. I trusted him with Iris, considered him my friend." The captain nodded thoughtfully and Joe sighed and shook his head. "I think he pulled a damn good con. And I'm thinking he went to a lot of trouble to have a friend at the police station."
Even having come into work late, by three in the afternoon, Joe felt the day had been extraordinarily long. When he went back into the break room, he found Denise and Barry sitting quietly. He was glad to see that she had gotten him to eat some crackers, but he seemed in even worse a mood than he had been when Joe left him, if that was possible.
Denise got up and met Joe in the doorway, speaking in a low voice.
"Only living family he knows of is his grandmother who's in a nursing home. I'll do some more digging, but it looks as though he'll be staying with you for the next couple of days—assuming that offer still stands?"
"Of course," Joe assured her. "How's he doing?"
"Still in shock, I think," she answered, lowering her voice even further. "Can't even imagine what's going on in his poor head right now." Joe gave a soft grunt of agreement. "I'm about to go speak with Mr. Allen and let him know what's going on," she said, and Joe nodded. She gave a careful glance back at Barry and lowered her voice even further. "I'll need to speak to him tomorrow about his father, if you wouldn't mind bringing him in again?"
Joe agreed, and then Denise called out to Barry.
"Bye, Barry. I'll see you tomorrow, alright?" He gave no sign that he'd heard her, and she flicked her eyes back to Joe. "See if you can't get him to talk to you?" she murmured, and then she was out the door.
Watching the quiet, solemn boy carefully, Joe went to the fridge and poured a glass of orange juice, which he set in front of Barry.
"It's been a pretty weird day, huh?" he said, and Barry met his eyes and nodded as he reached for the glass.
"Thanks," he mumbled as he raised the glass to his lips and drank, and Joe watched approvingly. Half a donut and some milk, a few sips of hot chocolate, and a handful of crackers wasn't much for a kid he knew could easily eat three helpings of macaroni and cheese in one sitting (which he had, the last time he'd come over for dinner).
"Do you have any questions?" Joe asked after Barry had finished gulping down more than half the juice. Barry hesitated in a way that told Joe that when he shook his head, he was lying.
"Well, it looks like you're going to stay with me and Iris again tonight," he said, and Barry's eyes flicked away.
"What about my dad?" he asked, and Joe sighed.
"Well, we've been looking at all of our evidence, and asking you and your dad a lot of questions to try to figure out what happened," he started.
"My dad didn't do it!" Joe ignored that.
"And the district attorney has looked at everything and decided—" Joe stopped himself, wondering if there was a way to say this without upsetting Barry too much. But he was a smart kid and would know if Joe was sugarcoating things, so Joe barreled onward. "He decided to charge your dad with the murder." There was a moment where he thought he'd have to explain what that meant, but then Barry's eyes widened in understanding and he leapt to his feet.
"He didn't do it!" he cried insistently. "Let them video me again! He didn't do it! Did you talk to my dad? What did he say?"
"I haven't spoken to him," Joe said, which was technically true, even if he had watched his interrogation.
"But I was there!" Barry shouted, storming away from the table, only to turn abruptly around and march back toward Joe. "Why did you bother asking me what happened if you weren't going to listen to me?"
"You said yourself that you didn't actually see what happened, Barry," Joe said calmly. "You said you were in the front yard."
"But I saw the lightning!" He cried. "It was the lightning! Dad was trying to save her!" Joe said nothing as Barry continued his angry pacing. After a moment, Barry stopped and caught Joe's gaze. "So you think I'm lying?" he asked, defiantly folding his arms. Joe shook his head.
"I know you wouldn't lie," Joe said carefully. "But I think you've been through a lot." In fact, Joe realized with a start, it had only been about twelve hours since he'd arrived on the scene, heart dropping as he saw the crying boy standing in the front yard. Considering that, Barry was doing remarkably well.
"So you think I'm crazy?" His expression dared Joe to say it, but Joe simply shook his head again.
"Do you want to pick a fight with me," he asked calmly, "or do you want me to tell you what happens next?" Barry stared at him with big, unblinking eyes for a moment before sitting down again, which Joe took as his answer.
"The arraignment is set for tomorrow afternoon," he started, relaying what the D.A. had told him after they had finally finished with Henry's interrogation. "Do you know what an arraignment is?" Barry shook his head. "They'll just decide how much money he has to pay for bail. After the arraignment he can pay his bail, and he'll be able to get out until the trial." At Barry's hopeful expression, Joe quickly clarified. "Just until the trial. That's when they'll decide if he has to go to prison or not."
Assuming that if bail was set at the arraignment on Wednesday, Henry would be able to pay and be out on Thursday, that gave Denise about a day and a half to figure out how to keep Barry out of Henry's custody—not that Joe was going to mention that to Barry. He'd figure that out when the time came—and hopefully when Barry was in a more permanent home with some family member.
"Okay," Barry said in a small voice, and Joe realized how overwhelmed he must be. Joe felt overwhelmed, and he was a full-grown adult whose mother hadn't just been killed.
"I know it's a lot," Joe said. "I know you must be sad and confused and angry right now." Barry didn't say anything, but a slight narrowing of his eyes told Joe he was right on all counts. "I just want to tell you that you're doing a really good job handling all of this. I know it's an impossible situation, but you're dealing with it, and that's all you can do." Barry cast his eyes down and didn't answer. Just as Joe was about to add the obligatory "you can talk to me about anything if you need to," Barry looked back up at him, eyes shining.
"I think I just really miss my mom."
"I know you do," Joe said quietly.
"I just really want to talk to her."
"I know you do," Joe murmured again.
"I feel like I'm going to see her when I get home tonight," Barry whispered.
"That's a normal thing to feel," Joe assured him.
"But I also feel like I can't breathe," Barry admitted, voice shaking. A tear finally spilled out and slid down his cheek. Joe felt his own eyes pricking and took Barry's hand, sitting on the table, in his own.
"That'll get better with time."
At around five, they left the precinct to go pick up Iris from school—well, from volleyball, which she had reluctantly chosen from a list of activities that had practice after school, allowing Joe to rest easy knowing she wasn't at home by herself until he came home from work.
They pulled up in front of Central City Elementary and she ran to the car, sweaty-faced and messy-haired, and climbed into the backseat.
"Hi, Barry," she said cautiously. Joe had warned him that he'd let her know what was going on so he wouldn't have to explain anything to her, so Barry just turned around from his spot in the passenger seat.
"Hi," he answered, subdued.
As they drove home, Joe could see that she was burning with curiosity about everything, but she had always been perceptive and he was proud to see that she seemed to understand that now was not the time for questions.
When they got home, Barry immediately went up to the guest room and closed the door, and Iris parked herself at the dining room table with her homework.
"Is he okay?" she asked as Joe dug around in a drawer for the pizza place's number, not having the energy to cook for them tonight.
"He's having a really rough day, honey," he answered, glancing up. She looked thoughtful for a moment.
"Should I go see if he wants to talk?" she asked, and Joe shook his head.
"He could probably use some time to himself for now." She nodded, and he added, "but maybe later tonight you can go see if he wants some company. He might want to talk about his mom, or he might want to talk about something else, or he might not want to talk at all." He walked around the table and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "He just needs you to be a good friend right now; I know you can do that better than anyone."
The pizza came, and as Joe checked over Iris's homework, he sent her upstairs with a couple of plates so she could offer one to Barry. He suspected Barry would politely decline, but he hoped finally getting to talk to his best friend about everything, as opposed to Joe, police officers, and social workers, would be a bit of a relief to the poor kid.
Joe absently marked a misspelled word with Iris's pencil, making a note to have her fix it later, as he took another bite of pizza.
It had been a long fucking day. He couldn't even quite figure out how Barry had become his responsibility except that he had volunteered on a whim. He couldn't really be sorry he'd done it—as Denise had said, if Barry wasn't here, he'd be in foster care until she could find some distant relative to take him—but he was so far out of his depth and couldn't quite believe he'd actually chosen to make his life infinitely more complicated. But who else did the kid have?
After about ten minutes, Iris still hadn't come back downstairs, which Joe took as a good sign. Just to check, he got up from the table and crept up the stairs, stopping just short of the cracked guest room door, where he could hear quiet voices.
"Her eyes were still open," Barry told Iris quietly, and Joe closed his own. He was still kicking himself for the fact that Barry had seen the body.
"Your mom was so nice," came Iris's softer voice, and a little sniff told Joe that Barry was crying.
"I was really scared," Barry admitted, voice shaking. "Don't tell your dad."
"I won't," she assured him, and Joe sighed quietly.
"I mean, really scared," Barry insisted, sniffling. "I thought I was going to die."
"That's okay," Iris said quietly. "I think you're really brave, even if you were scared."
"I thought I was going to die," Barry said again, voice choking, "but I think this is worse." He broke into sobs, and Joe felt his own tears threatening. When he didn't hear Iris say anything, he stole a glance through the cracked door.
She had wrapped him in a hug, and the two of them sat there as he cried into her shoulder. He couldn't see her face, but the tension in her back told him how tightly she was holding him.
Joe left them and went back downstairs, giving them privacy. Neither of them came downstairs for an hour, and he couldn't help but think that, even in all of this horribleness, he couldn't quite believe he was responsible for such an amazing little girl.