Nothing But Each Other
PenPatronus
Chapter 4
Downswing
Barry sobbed against Oliver's bare chest with the grace and dignity of a newborn baby, very aware that he was wasting valuable water. A deep fatigue settled over him. His head hurt and his joints felt stiff. He hugged his friend tight, keeping pressure on the knife wounds. After the tears dried he stayed where he was—holding the bandages while also staring up at the silent, un-blinking lightbulb. He was so distracted for so long that he didn't realize another hour had passed until the ankle cuffs broke his bones once again. Barry screamed into the inside of his elbow, trying desperately to keep his voice down so that Oliver could sleep, recover. Ollie woke up swinging, barely missing punching Barry in the nose. Barry caught him by the shoulders. The two men, sitting side by side, facing each other, grasped for each other's hands before leaning back on their palms, trying to catch their breaths. Their shirts tumbled to the floor in a heap. Oliver's knife wounds had clotted.
"Sorry," Barry gasped. "I didn't mean—I tried to—"
Oliver winced and checked his wounds. "I know," he said softly. "I know." He looked Barry up and down. "You all right? You look paler."
Barry rubbed his calves. He said nothing, just shook his head without making eye contact.
Oliver rubbed his sore, empty stomach. His throat was dead dry, and his head hurt. He looked up at the lightbulb and saw that it was glowing without interruption. Felicity wasn't with them.
"Want you to know something," Barry suddenly spouted. He sighed, took a deep breath, and said again, softer, "I want to tell you something, Oliver."
Oliver's eyes narrowed. "Barry, unless it's a plan to get us out of here, whatever you have to say can probably wait for another time."
Barry pursed his lips together, counted to ten, then spoke. "Oliver, my metabolism works as fast as my legs. That's why I have to eat and drink frequently. That also means that my body's going to do something else very, very quickly."
Oliver frowned. The half-moons under his eyes were as dark as the cement floor. "What?"
"Dehydrate." Barry shrugged. "Starve. A normal man can go three days without drinking water. We haven't had any in almost two. I don't know how much longer I can last. I feel sluggish. Everything hurts. I'm dizzy…My organs will eventually shut down." Barry hesitated, then stated again, "And that's why I want you to know something. And I…" Barry suddenly stared down at the floor and his shoulders swayed back and forth. "I think maybe I should sit down while we… While we t-talk…"
Oliver grasped Barry's wrist. "Bare, you are sitting down."
Tears suddenly hovered in Barry's sad eyes. "Thank you, Ollie," he croaked. "For everything. For mentoring me, for helping me, for being my friend… I can't imagine where I'd be right now if I'd never met you. Dead, probably." Barry chuckled a bit chaotically for a moment, then settled down again. "You are the most honorable, brave, talented man I've ever known and other than Iris' heart, I want nothing more than to be like you. You're a superhero."
"Barry…" Oliver shook his head and averted his eyes. "You don't have to—Barry?"
Barry had gone still. He was staring but inwardly, not out into the void. Slowly, he raised his hand and massaged his dry forehead. "Buzzing," he muttered.
"What?" Oliver grasped his friend's wrist again. "Barry, talk to me!"
"Oh, no…" Barry looked at Oliver as if for the last time. "I'm sorry," he hiccupped. "I'm s—"
The seizure knocked Barry onto his back. It lasted a whole 90 seconds—Oliver counted. He backed away, hands up, giving his friend space but keeping an eye on the walls to keep Barry from crashing into them. It was horrific. Every muscle in Barry's body shook and contracted and spasmed. His eyes rolled back into his head. His back arched and he bounced so high that at times he looked like he was floating above the floor. The seizure stopped as quickly as it started. Oliver rushed back to his friend and cupped his cheeks.
"Barry? Barry!" Oliver patted his friend's cheeks, then smacked them. "Wake up. Barry—wake up!"
Unresponsive. Oliver put his forefinger against Barry's pulse point and found his heart beating. That was the only good news. Oliver wondered if Barry would ever wake up again…
"Dammit!" Oliver bellowed. He sat beside Barry with his hands in his lap and his face pointing down. He'd expended his own small well of energy in just a few minutes. His body was fatigued and achy. He was nauseated and cold. He'd lost too much blood and his body hadn't had time to recover yet. He checked his own pulse and found it fast and shallow. Worry over Barry had skyrocketed his adrenaline, and now his body was coming down from the high.
"Oh," said Oliver, having an out loud revelation, "gonna p-pass out, too…" He looked up at the lightbulb. Still no blinking. He was alone.
Eyes blurring, temperature rising, stomach aching, Oliver slowly lowered himself so that he lay side-by-side with Barry. He grasped his friend's wrist and clung onto the beat of his heart like a child who needed the comfort of a teddy bear. "Sorry, Barry…" he whispered. "Guess I'm no superhero today…"
To Be Continued