Possessed

"Barry, when are you going to stop taking the stairs?" Joe asked, easily catching up to his foster son who was only a few steps up the staircase to his lab.

"What do you mean?" he asked, "I always take the stairs."

"Yes, I know, but you really should start taking the elevator," Joe urged, "I watch you struggle to get up these stairs every day, and really it's just unnecessary."

And sure enough, Barry was struggling to catch his breath as he neared the top.

"I've got this, Joe. It's not that many steps," Barry breathed irritably, but he stopped just shy of the top nonetheless, holding tightly onto the railing as he took deep breaths.

"There's no shame in taking the elevator if it's too much for you, Bar."

But Barry started walking again, defiantly taking the last few steps to the top.

"Barry. You're sick," Joe continued, "and you need to start acting like it. You have to accept that there are some things that you just can't do now. "

"I don't want anyone to see me taking the elevator."

"Why?! You'd rather them see you pass out again? I'm really sorry, Barry, but the secret is out now. There's no point in trying to hide it and making things harder for yourself. Why would you struggle up those stairs every day when the elevator would be so much easier for you?"

"I'm not going to give everyone the satisfaction," Barry said as they entered his lab.

"What do you mean that?" Joe asked confusedly.

"I mean that now that everyone here knows that I'm sick, they've been treating me differently," Barry elaborated, "They already think I'm weak. I'm not going to contribute to that by doing things like taking the elevator."

"That's just stupid, Bar. No one's going to think any less of you if you do. You don't have to prove anything to anyone," Joe said as Barry sat down at his desk, "I know it's hard for you having everybody know now that you're sick, but it doesn't have to define you. It doesn't have to change the way you live your life."

"You don't understand, Joe," Barry nearly whispered, "This was the one place where I still felt normal, the one thing in my life that had gone unchanged, and now that's gone too."

"I'm sorry, Barry," Joe said with a pained expression.

"It's not your fault," Barry assured him, "It's my own. If I hadn't gone yelling about it in the middle of the precinct…"

Barry sighed.

"I don't know what happens when I get like that. It's like something inside of me just snaps, and I can't control it. I can't control any of those emotions. They all just come pouring out of me. It doesn't even feel like me saying those things. It's like my body has been taken over by somebody else, and all I can do is watch helplessly as it happens. I don't know. It's hard to explain."

Barry ran his fingers through his hair, something he always did when he was tense or nervous, and something Joe noticed he had been doing a lot lately.

"Caitlin warned us that the brain tumor would affect your personality," Joe observed, "She said it affected your thinking and emotions."

"I can't blame the tumor for all of my actions," Barry told him, "Some if it is just me, being difficult. But a lot of the time, it's as if everything I'm feeling is, I don't know, amplified. Sometimes I know I'm being stupid and unreasonable, but I do it anyways. Other times it's like a voice in my ear, nagging at the back of mind. It's all very confusing."

"And I thought it was scary to witness," Joe said, "I didn't consider what it must be like to be on the other side of it. How scary that must be for you."

"I'm sorry that you guys have to deal with it," Barry said sincerely, "I'm so sorry."

"You don't have to apologize, Bar. We know you can't help it and that you're doing the best you can. It's a lot to handle and a lot to adjust to."

"This all has been a lot to adjust to," Barry said warily, "I used to be able to outrun bullets and unwind tornadoes. Now I can't even make it up the stairs without getting winded," he said bitterly.

"Don't worry, Barry," Joe comforted, "You'll be running again soon enough. I know this has been hard for you, not being able to run, but this won't last forever. You're going to get better, and you're going to go right back to where you were before this whole mess started."

"I don't know, Joe," said Barry uncertainly, "I still have some of my speed, but it's mostly gone. I can only run in small spurts now, and not nearly as fast as before."

"You shouldn't be running at all right now, Bar," Joe said sternly.

"I know," said Barry quickly, "and I haven't, really. I just wanted to see…"

"Does Caitlin know about this?" Joe asked.

"No, but Joe," Barry said desperately, "I swear I haven't been doing it much. It's not like I'm out there running around as the Flash anymore. Anyone who reads a newspaper can tell you that."

Barry looked bitterly towards the newspaper that was lying on his desk. The headline read: "Flash Still Missing, City Crime Reaches All-Time High in Scarlet Speedster's Absence"

This had been one of many newspaper issues commenting on the Flash's sudden lack of activity. Iris had done her best to keep the CCPN from printing them, but her new editor seemed to be on a mission to tarnish the Flash's pristine reputation.

Joe looked sullenly at the newspaper too.

"You can't blame yourself for everything that's been happening, Barry. You're not responsible for every crime that happens in this city."

"But I am, Joe," Barry said, "It's my job to stop people like that and to save people. That woman that died last week…" He sighed heavily, "If I had been out there as the Flash, I could have saved her."

"You can't save everyone, Barry, especially not now. Now is the time to think about yourself for once. Right now you need to focus on getting better."

"I don't feel better, Joe. I feel worse," Barry said irritably, "I'm tired of feeling sick all the time. I'm tired of throwing up. I'm just tired."

"I know, Bar," Joe said sadly, "I know. Caitlin said it would get worse before it got better. It might not seem like it, but all of these treatments are supposed to help you, Barry."

"It's been almost a month," Barry said, "I don't know how long I can keep doing this, Joe."

Joe tried to swallow back the lump in his throat. He didn't know what to say. Any words of comfort he could think of didn't seem like they would be enough. So he hugged Barry instead. Barry didn't quite return the hug, but rather stood there limply as his foster father held him and said, "We'll make it through this. Just keep holding on, Bar. We'll make it through this."

…..

Barry stood in the doorway, staring at the treadmill. He missed it. He missed the rush of wind on his face, the feeling like nothing could touch him when he was running.

He had taken it for granted, grown so accustomed to it that it had seemed like such a normal part of his life. Before his diagnosis, Barry had been running every day, throwing everything he had into being the Flash and stopping Zoom. He had been working so hard. He had sacrificed so much, his relationship, his personal life, and even his own health, to get faster.

He had been running and training every day, and now he suddenly wasn't supposed to run at all? He didn't know who he was without being the Flash.

The worst part about it was that every time he thought about it, he wanted to clear his head by going for a run, which he couldn't do. It was a vicious cycle that left his brain feeling scrambled and made him want to tear his hair out. Although, the chemotherapy seemed to be doing that part for him.

It had started midway through the second week of his treatment. He first noticed it in the shower when he pulled his hands from his scalp to reveal small clumps of hair between his fingers. He knew his hair was such a petty thing to care about when considering the grand scheme of things, but he was upset by the idea. Truly he hadn't lost that much hair, not enough for anyone else to notice just yet, but he noticed, and it bothered him.

Now, however, nothing bothered him more than the fact that he wasn't allowed to run. His hand rested lightly on the control of the treadmill. He hadn't even realized he had crossed the room until he was already face to face with the screen, which flickered to life at his touch. Barry was tempted, extremely so, to turn the machine on.

He had only been using his speed every now and then to quickly cross a room or do a small movement. He did it when he was home alone, when Joe or Iris couldn't see him. The small spurts of speed that he still had were as small comfort to him. To know that the speed force was still in his system helped him retain the hope that everything would somehow go back to normal again.

But today, it wasn't enough. He had to know. He had to know just how fast he could still go. He had to run. Barry's finger hovered inches from the control screen. Just a quick run couldn't hurt. Just to see how fast he could still go and for how long. Zoom was still out there after all, not to mention an unknown number of metahumans that could act out at any moment. Really, it would be foolish not to be prepared, right? At the very least, he should know his limits, what he can and can't do.

"What are you doing in here, Barry?" he heard Cisco's voice ask from behind him. Barry turned to face him. Cisco was holding his hands at his sides, palms up, waiting for a reply. Barry knew lying wouldn't get him anywhere, so he pleaded instead.

"Just one run, Cisco," he begged, "I'll take it slow. I just want to run. Just this once. Please?"

Cisco didn't understand it. The guy looked dead on his feet, exhaustion evident by the bags under his eyes, and here he wanted to go for a run?!

"You know I can't let you do that, man," he said painfully, "I'm sorry, but you know it's not good for you."

"I need it, Cisco," Barry urged, "I need to run. I don't know who I am without it."

"I know it's hard, man, but if you do this, you're just going to make yourself sicker and undo all of the progress you've made."

At these words, Barry felt something deep inside him flip. His eyes went from pleading to dangerous, as he clamped his teeth down to hold back the shout that was threatening to escape him.

"Progress?" he growled, his hands balling into fists. "What progress? It's been over a month, and there's been hardly any change."

"That's not true, Barry," Cisco said surreally, "Your CBCs look much better, and the tumors have continued to shrink."

"Not enough," Barry muttered darkly.

"Your white blood cell count was a lot lower yesterday. That's a good sign."

"Oh, is it?" Barry said mockingly, "We all know that my white blood cells are low only because the CP22 is destroying my immune system. It's not progress, Cisco. It's the opposite."

"I know it's hard for you to see it, Barry, because you're feeling so miserable, but you are making progress."

"And what about the progress I was making before? With my speed? I'm going to lose that all now because you guys won't let me train!" Barry nearly shouted.

"Is that really what you care about right now, man?" Cisco asked incredulously, "I find that hard to believe. You know what I think?" he asked, stepping closer to Barry so that they were mere inches from each other, "I think your preoccupation with training and with Zoom is just a distraction. It's an unhealthy obsession that you're using to escape from the things that are really bothering you, Barry."

For a wild moment Cisco really thought Barry might hit him. There was a dark hatred in his eyes that Cisco had only seen once before, and that was with the Reverse Flash. Barry's mouth was a thin line, and he took large, deep breaths through his nose, as if willing himself not to do something he would regret. The effect was terrifying. There was no trace of the friendly, happy-go-lucky person Cisco had always known Barry to be.

"Is that your professional analysis, Ramon?" he asked coldly. Cisco took a step back, stunned by the look on Barry's face and the use of his surname. Barry had never spoken to him with such iciness before. He took a moment to recover before answering.

"Barry," he said, putting a hand on Barry's shoulder, "You're not yourself right now. Why don't we go sit down in the other room and try to calm down a bit, okay?"

"Take. Your hand. Off me." Barry growled warningly. Cisco removed his hand from Barry's shoulder and stepped back again.

"Barry…" he said, but Barry walked around him and left the room without another word.

…..

It hadn't taken Barry long to apologize to Cisco shortly after their tense exchange. After he had come to his senses, Barry felt ashamed and embarrassed about the whole thing. Whatever this was that kept coming over him, it seemed to be happening more often, and that terrified him. He didn't seem to know anymore when he was himself or when he was being taken over by whatever this demon was that kept possessing his thoughts and emotions.

It wasn't just his emotions that seemed to be affected now. He started having moments of confusion at random times throughout the day. He had recurrent lapses in memory that seemed to be increasing both in frequency and severity. Joe and Iris were the first to notice that Barry's memory seemed to be failing him.

It had started out with little things, like forgetting where he had left his work notepad or forgetting to close the front door behind him. It soon escalated into him forgetting where he was and what he had been doing a moment ago.

Iris had been very alarmed one night when Barry had turned to her and asked her when their chem assignment was due. It was as if he had thought they were back in high school or something. A moment later, Barry had gone back to normal and didn't seemed to remember what had happened or what he had said.

More than once Barry had walked out the front door, fully dressed and ready to go to work, only to have Joe or Iris stop him to tell him that it was nine o'clock at night, and he most definitely didn't have to go into work right now. Barry felt very stupid and embarrassed when things like this happened. He was otherwise very sharp and alert, but he kept having these moments, usually when he was overtired or he had just had a chemo treatment, when he got confused. It frustrated and upset him, and Iris's and Joe's attempts to tell him that it wasn't his fault and to make him feel better usually only made him feel more embarrassed.

They all avoided talking about Barry's condition at home. Iris and Joe both knew he was struggling with the fact that everyone at his work knew about his cancer now. Iris had discovered several "Get Well Soon" cards on Barry's dresser in his bedroom. She knew the sight of them probably drove him crazy, which is why, she assumed, he had flipped them over so as not to look at them.

Iris and Joe did everything they could to make everything feel comfortable and normal at home for Barry. They made sure the temperature on the thermostat was plenty high, knowing that Barry was easily chilled. He had never complained of being cold, but when his teeth started chattering and he shivered uncontrollably it was a bit of a giveaway. He tried to keep things like this hidden from them, but they were watching him so closely that they rarely went unnoticed. They noticed every time he braced himself against something for the balance or support because he was dizzy, every time he started to turn green from nausea, every time he rushed off to the bathroom with a tissue pressed to his bleeding nose.

They supported him through it any way that they could, dimming the lights in the room when they saw his forehead wrinkle in pain from his headaches, getting him water when he was sitting on the bathroom floor vomiting repeatedly into the toilet, urging him to eat when they knew he had forgotten to because of his lack of appetite.

Iris made sure the house was always clean and free of dust after Barry started having respiratory problems and episodes of difficulty breathing. His lungs were starting to deteriorate from his illness, and he often found himself short of breath, something he had a hard time keeping hidden from them.

Caitlin had provided him with a portable oxygen tank to have on hand when he needed it, but Barry usually refused to use it and denied that he was short of breath when they asked him. The only times he ever put the nasal cannula on for oxygen therapy were the nights after his treatments so that he could sleep.

Although it was better than spending the night at STAR Labs, Barry always hated going home after his chemotherapy sessions. He wished he could just go away somewhere else to a remote place after his treatments. Somewhere where he could be sick alone, and no one would have sit up with him all night. He hated that his friends and family had to sacrifice their weekends to watch over him, and if he had thought they would go along with it, he would have considered getting his own apartment just so that they wouldn't have to deal with any more of the ugliness of his illness.

Even on a daily basis, Barry wished that Joe and Iris wouldn't fret over him so much. Although they had stopped talking about his cancer in front of him, all of the little things they did for him drove him crazy. Things like making sure he ate a decent breakfast before going to work and covering him with an extra blanket when he hadn't even asked for one. He knew they were just trying to take care of him and they wanted to feel useful, but it only made him feel more helpless.

To make things seem more like normal, Iris often tried to have movie nights with Barry, the way they used to when they were both in high school and living at home. He often had to decline because of his workload though. He was gradually falling behind on cases at work, and the only way he was managing to keep up was by taking his work home with him. When he did watch movies with her, Barry often fell asleep before they were even half way into the movie.

They were only ten minutes into their movie one night when Iris heard Barry's soft, steady breathing next to her. She looked over at him, and sure enough, he had his head tipped back against the back of the sofa and he was sound asleep. Perhaps sound wasn't the best word to describe it. He was asleep, but his expression still looked stressed and troubled. He had a slight crease between his eyes, and his mouth was set into a subtle frown.

Iris's eyes slid to the picture on the end table next to him. It was a picture of her and Barry, taken shortly after Barry's college graduation ceremony. It was her favorite picture of the two of them. They each had an arm around the other's back, and Barry's hair was messy and askew from his graduation cap. He had his head thrown back, laughing in the carefree way that only Barry could.

It had been a while since she had heard him laugh now. As Iris looked between the picture of Barry, so happy and full of light and energy, and the Barry she had before her now, she felt a heaviness fill her heart. Whatever light Barry had before had now flickered out. He had been so happy, so carefree, so alive. Now he was just sick. His illness left room for little else. She could see how pale his skin was, how hollow and gaunt his cheeks looked. The weight he had lost was starting to show more and more with each passing week. He looked nothing like the Barry in the pictures, the one she had always known.

Even his hair was starting to look thinner, not terribly so, but she could see it now. It saddened her. Barry had always had such a nice head of hair. She noticed a shudder run through him, and she quickly covered him with another blanket before sliding underneath it next to him to keep him warm. Curled up next to a sick and sleeping Barry, Iris looked back to the TV screen with a sigh, the screen appearing blurry from the tears that had welled up in her eyes.

…..

"Dude, your Facebook profile is seriously lacking. You, like, never post anything."

"Cisco, when I said I would come here to work on this case with you, I meant actually working on the case," Barry said, not looking up from his forensics report, "Not sit here while you stalk and critique my Facebook page."

They were sitting behind the desk in the cortex, Barry working intently on writing up his report while Cisco played on his tablet.

"Please. You don't even want my help," Cisco laughed, "Every time I try to help you with your work, you end up redoing everything anyways."

Barry couldn't help but smile at his observation. It was true. When Barry brought cases to STAR Labs to utilize their advanced equipment and software, he usually worked best alone. As brilliant as Cisco was, he often proved to be more of a distraction than a help.

"I swear, man, you have like, not aged at all since high school," Cisco said, still looking through Barry's Facebook photos, "Woah, hang on. Who is this hottie?"

"Oh, that's Becky," Barry said, glancing briefly at the screen, "She was my girlfriend my sophomore year in high school."

"Damn," Cisco said, laughing, "And here I thought you were a total nerd."

Barry chuckled slightly, "Not a total nerd," he said, "Just a nerd."

"So what happened?" Cisco asked. Barry looked at him confusedly. Cisco gestured at the picture on the screen.

"With Becky?" Barry asked, shaking his head, "I'd rather not discuss it. Things didn't end the greatest between us."

Cisco stared at him curiously when Barry returned back to working on his forensics report.

"Let me guess," Cisco said, "Iris."

"No, actually. Becky was just a bit…intense. It got pretty complicated," Barry said thoughtfully before smiling to himself, "Although I have to say, Iris did not like her. Granted, Iris didn't like most of the girls I dated. Vanessa, especially."

"Oh, this I gotta hear," Cisco said, interested, "Who's Vanessa?"

"Another past girlfriend I'd rather not discuss," Barry said as he continued to work. "She was even more of a nightmare than Becky. A socially manipulative psychopath actually."

"Jeez, Barry, did you ever date any girls that weren't crazy?"

"Oh, my college girlfriends were a lot better," Barry assured him, "but hey, I didn't come here to discuss my past relationships with you."

"Sorry, I was just curious," Cisco chuckled, "You've never told me about your crazy exes before."

Barry continued to work intently on his report, but still, he couldn't help but smile. It felt strange on his face. He couldn't remember the last time he had smiled, really smiled. Only Cisco, being the fun and lighthearted friend that his was, could have driven it out of him so effortlessly. This was how things should be, hanging out in STAR Labs, Cisco teasing Barry and cracking jokes about his love life. For a moment, everything felt like it had been before. For a fleeting moment, Barry felt like things were almost normal.

The smile quickly slid from Barry's face, however, once his nose started to bleed. He quickly grabbed a tissue and excused himself, swiftly making his way to the restroom. It had been happening a lot lately, being simply another side effect of his condition. Nosebleeds and easy bruising were common amongst cancer patients with low platelet counts like him, and although harmless, Barry was frustrated by their timing.

As he stood in the bathroom pressing the tissue to his face and looking in the mirror at his pale reflection, Barry was cruelly reminded that things weren't normal. He was reminded of what, for a moment, he had forgotten. That he was still sick, and everything was still falling apart.