Holy crap, I'm back. I don't think anybody (including me) thought I'd be back this early. Originally, this wasn't how I planned the story to go but sometimes things happen and now there's more drama and well, I hope nobody minds too much. ;) Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own none of this. (otherwise there would be more happy crossovers)

He shouldn't do this.

He knows that.

But he also knew Oliver.

And he knew that every minute that Oliver was away from the bunker was another minute he could do something stupid.

So, really, it wasn't Barry's fault that he was sneaking out at two in the morning. But it was his problem on figuring out how to.

And how the hell he was supposed to find Oliver, on his own, still injured, in the middle of the night?

He'd figure that out after he figured out to stand.

Barry grunted quietly, pushing himself up to sit. He squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing back the pain that threatened to rise and overtake him. For Oliver. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, gasping in shock at the pain that rolled over him.

He leaned forward, grasping onto the sheets and doing his best to breathe through the agony.

You have to do this. You have to-

But God, why did it have to hurt so much?

He tentatively placed his right foot on the floor, ignoring the way it shook when he put any little amount of weight on it.

Now or never.

And you always were rather fond of the now-

He slid off of the table, expecting to land on both of his feet and was only partially stunned when instead it was his knees that connected with the ground.

He gasped, ripping off the blanket with him as he fell merely from the shock and oh, yeah, the pain-

Barry swallowed hard, tensing every muscle of his body to do his best to stifle the shakes that rippled throughout him. He was surprised no one had come running into the room after hearing the crash but he thanked God that they hadn't.

He pushed himself up with his hands, doing his best to ignore the way his arms shook beneath his own weight.

How the hell was he supposed to find Oliver like this?

Any way he could.

He needed to find Oliver even if it killed him.

Well, poor choice of words.

Managing to leverage himself up on the table, he inhaled a breath of air; taking a moment to catch his rapidly disappearing breath.

He glanced to the door, knowing he had to speed through the rooms to avoid waking anybody.

He sighed, rolling back his shoulder and ignoring the way it shook from strain as he did so.

"Let's do this," He murmured under his breath.

For Oliver.

It took him two hours.

Two hours of running through the city, never once stopping-

Okay, maybe he had to take a breather every few minutes and okay, maybe he collapsed a few times and ran into a few buildings along the way but he was still alive, wasn't he?

Besides, none of that mattered because he'd found Oliver.

Wandering the streets at four in the morning and Barry felt the extreme urge to scold him for being so reckless but then remembered look in the mirror.

He wasn't wearing his uniform, or his mask.

He was dressed in jeans and a long sleeve maroon shirt and Barry was so confused because this was the Arrow-

Oh.

Oh.

This wasn't the Arrow.

This was Oliver Queen and knowing him he probably couldn't stand being in his uniform because it only reminded him of what he did to you-

Barry inhaled, cutting off his own thoughts abruptly.

That wasn't Oliver nor was it the Arrow.

It was a meta-human's twisted idea of irony and Barry and Oliver just happened to both be the victims of it.

He had a feeling the man before him in the alley wouldn't agree.

But Barry wasn't thinking straight and maybe that was because of his injuries or maybe it was the sheer relief of finding Oliver safe and okay but-

He was moving towards his friend and speaking without a second thought.

"Oliver!" He called out, watching as the man before him froze suddenly, as if in shock and disbelief and denial-

He turned and Barry watched as his skin turned white right before him, as if he'd seen a ghost.

Oh, right.

He thought for a moment Oliver might pass out.

But then the air about him changed and Barrry could feel the anger and sadness radiate off of him.

A normal person would have the logic to get out of there-

But it was Barry, and Barry wasn't normal.

And he didn't think logically.

He was moving forward before he could register what he was doing.

"Ollie-" He took a step towards him, but Oliver held his hand up, taking a step back. No, wait, stumbling-

"No-" Barry stopped. "Don't-don't come near me," Oliver choked out the words and suddenly Barry's heart hurt worse than any physical wound he had.

Barry stood his ground, even as Oliver stared at him with a look that would make any normal person run.

"Oliver-"

"No. You're not-" He stopped, pausing for a moment before his voice broke into a quiet whisper. "You're not real." Barry's heart broke at the crack in his voice and
he chose not to comment on the gleam in Oliver's eyes.

"I am. I lived, Oliver. You didn't-" He stopped himself. "I'm alive." Oliver stared at him, lightly shaking his head and opening his mouth to say something. But Barry's
body took that moment to remind him that he was still recovering and he shook slightly, uncontrollably.

Oliver frowned, closing his mouth and opening it again to say something different.

"You're bleeding,"

Barry frowned, putting a hand to his shoulder and feeling nothing but when his hand came back, it was glistening and oh, that was definitely blood-

"See?" He blinked sluggishly, feeling his body weigh down even further. "If I wasn't real, would I be bleeding-" He stumbled forward, thankfully, into Oliver's stunned arms.

He grasped at his shoulders, attempting to keep himself upright, but then he was coughing and there was blood on his chin and on Oliver's shirt and-

He welcomed the darkness blissfully.

See the drama I was talking about? ;P I hope you have a lovely day! Stay awesome, blossom.