Lights and Sirens
Barry felt like he was eleven years old again, running down the sidewalk, trying to get to Iron Heights before Joe noticed he was gone. He was sixteen now, but deep down, he still felt that childlike fear of getting caught and that frantic sense of urgency to get to his father before that happened. Obviously, he wasn't scared in the same way now. He knew Joe now, and he knew that the worst Joe could do to him was give him more chores or ground him longer. But as a kid…
As a kid, it had been terrifying. He hadn't known Joe very well then, and running down the sidewalk with your foster father's police car trailing after you was about as scary as it got. Joe had always been kind to him though. He had always been patient and understanding because Barry had been just a little boy then, a little boy who was scared and who had lost his mother and only wanted to see his father again.
Now, however, Barry was older, and Joe wasn't afraid to be harsh on him. He knew Joe wasn't stupid and would eventually find out he had gone to Iron Heights. Joe was going to be pissed. Barry knew he was in for it when he went home later, but that didn't matter now. He would do whatever chores Joe gave him, as long as he got to see his dad today. He would have taken his car, but it was parked in the garage, and Joe no doubt would have heard the garage door open immediately, so Barry had been given no choice but to run there on foot.
Sticky sweat covered Barry's face and back despite the cold December air. He had almost put a coat on before he left. Now he was glad he hadn't. He was sweating enough as it was. Barry was a lot faster now than he had been when he was a kid. He wasn't the star of the track team for nothing. Still, a squad car was faster. Barry was almost all the way to Iron Heights when Joe came down the street in his cruiser. When Joe pulled up alongside him, Barry stopped running and slowed down to a fast walk, knowing it didn't pay to run at this point. He didn't look at Joe but instead kept his eyes trained on the sidewalk ahead him.
"Barry, get in the car," Joe said firmly, driving slowing alongside Barry as he walked.
Barry didn't answer. He didn't look at him. He just kept walking, his jaw set in defiance.
"Barry, don't make me tell you twice," Joe said dangerously.
"Or what?" Barry asked angrily, finally looking over at Joe without breaking his stride, "Are you going to ground me longer? Are you going to give me a million chores to do? Well, go ahead! Do whatever you want, but you are not going to stop me from seeing my dad."
"Barry, I only grounded you guys for two weeks," Joe said reasonably, "I'm not trying to stop you from seeing him indefinitely. I just—"
"You shouldn't be trying to stop me from seeing him at all," Barry said angrily, "I mean, what kind of sick punishment is that?! Stopping someone from seeing their own father."
Joe sighed and turned right along with him when Barry made a left on the sidewalk down Jackson Street. Barry kept a fast pace, but Joe kept up with him easily in his cruiser. At this point, Barry wasn't trying to escape him. He was simply walking on his way to see his dad. Joe was only an annoyance to him now.
"Bar," he said softly, "You know that's not what my intention was when I grounded you. I just wanted you and Iris to face the consequences of your actions last night. That's all."
Barry didn't respond to that. He just kept walking. He was covered in sweat from all the running he had done, and his shirt was sticking to him. The cold air was starting to cool his wet clothing, and Barry felt a shiver run through him. He just kept walking though, determined to make it to Iron Heights. It was a farther walk than he had thought. He had forgotten how miserable the trip to Iron Heights was on foot.
"Barry, it's freezing outside," Joe pointed out needlessly.
Barry didn't need him to tell him how cold it was. He could feel it in his numb fingers and toes. At least there was no snow. He didn't think wet shoes would have helped his case.
"Barry, get in the car now," Joe said firmly.
"I'm not a little kid anymore, Joe," Barry said forcefully, "You can't scare me into listening to you. I'm not afraid of a man in a squad car anymore."
Joe felt a weight of guilt settle in his chest. He thought back to all those times he had stopped Barry from going to Iron Heights as a kid, all the times he had pulled up alongside him or cut across his path with his squad car. A few times he had even put his lights on to scare the kid from running. He would never forget the crushed look on Barry's face every time he got caught. Some of the times he had been so close to the prison. And yes, sometimes that look of disappointment on the young Barry's face had also been accompanied by a look of fear. He was just a little boy, and Joe was this big man whom he didn't know very well yet. Having Joe pull up in a police car with its lights on must have been somewhat terrifying for the kid.
Looking back, Joe regretted how he had handled things. He regretted scolding the boy, and he regretted using his squad lights. A few times after that, Barry had even had a few nightmares about it. Joe felt immensely guilty for that especially. As if the kid needed more traumatizing things to dream about.
Barry was older now, and he was better able to understand Joe's side of it. He understood where Joe was coming from and why he thought he was in the right. That didn't stop Barry from wanting to see his dad though. He didn't see Joe as the bad guy anymore, and he certainly didn't hate the man like he first did when he came to live with the Wests, but Barry still sometimes felt resentment towards him.
Joe had helped them lock up his dad after all, and he had always been against Barry maintaining any sort of relationship with his father. How was Barry not supposed to see him as the bad guy sometimes? It was hard for Barry. He felt guilty about his feelings of resentment towards the man who had done so much for him. He had given him a place to live. He had kept him fed and put clothes on his back. He had done everything in his power to make Barry feel like a part of the family and to help him overcome his childhood trauma. It all made it really hard for Barry to ever be angry with Joe. His conflicting feelings towards his foster father often confused Barry, but right now, walking on this sidewalk down Jackson Street with Joe driving alongside him, there was no confusion. He knew exactly how he felt, and he felt angry.
"Barry," Joe said, his voice surprisingly soft, "Please just come home with me."
"That's not my home," Barry spat at him, "And you're not my father. He's my dad Joe, not you, and keeping me from seeing him isn't going to change that."
Joe didn't say anything back. He looked like he had been slapped in the face, and for a brief moment Barry felt a slight hint of remorse over his harsh words. Not enough for him to take them back though. Barry just kept walking.
"Alright, Barry," Joe said, and Barry felt another twinge of guilt upon hearing the hurt in his voice, "Go ahead and see him. I'll see you at h—the house."
Barry turned his head to look at him, but Joe was already facing forward again, and a moment later, he sped up and drove down the rest of the street, where he disappeared around a corner. Great. Now he had done it. The only thing worse than having Joe angry with you was having him sad because of you. Barry hated giving him so much grief. He felt so caught in the middle sometimes, like he was often choosing between his dad and his foster dad. Barry knew his relationship with his dad probably made Joe feel a little bad, like he was incomplete, like he wasn't enough for Barry.
Barry wanted to tell him that that wasn't true, that Joe was more than enough, but he wasn't sure if that was necessarily true. As amazing as Joe was, he wasn't enough, and that was just the ugly truth of it. Barry still felt like he didn't have a family. Joe and Iris had welcomed him into their home with loving arms, but Barry still sometimes felt like a guest there, like a charity case.
He felt like an orphan.
That thought made him angry. He wasn't an orphan. His mother may be gone, but father was still alive, and nothing would stop Barry from going to see the only family he had left. He wasn't an orphan.
Barry felt intense relief when he finally made it to Iron Heights. He tried to put his argument with Joe from his mind as he walked into the large building. Walking into Iron Heights used to be somewhat intimidating to him. It was a prison after all, and the guards had always looked so unfriendly to him. Over the years, however, Barry found that to be untrue. Most of them were actually very amiable, and they always greeted him kindly when he checked in as a visitor at the front desk. They all knew who Barry was by now of course. He had been coming here once a week for two years and plenty of other times before that as he had tried to sneak into the place.
Like always, Barry presented his visitor badge to the guard and was led to the visitation room that he knew too well. He sat down at the desk in front of the glass window, waiting anxiously for his dad to sit down on the other side. When his father finally walked up to the chair opposite him and sat down, smiling at him, Barry felt some of the tension leave his body. It was a feeling of relief and calmness that only seeing his father seemed to bring him.
"Hey, Slugger," his dad said, flashing him a wide smile, happy to see his son.
That was why Barry came here. Not only did he need his dad, but his dad needed him. His father never admitted to it because he didn't want Barry to feel guilted into coming to see him, but Barry knew that his father looked forward to their weekly visits just as much as he did.
"Hi, dad," Barry said, smiling just as wide.
The smile almost felt foreign on his face, given the shitty last few weeks he had had.
"Why are you all sweaty?" his dad asked, laughing lightly as he looked Barry over, "Did you walk here?"
"Ran actually," Barry said.
"It's a little early to be doing preseason cross country training, don't you think?"
"I'm not training," Barry said, wiping the cold sweat from his face.
"Joe?" his dad asked.
Barry nodded.
"He gave you a hard time about coming today?" Henry asked, "Why? I thought you two had an understanding about the whole thing."
"We do," Barry said, "He grounded me."
Henry raised his eyebrows.
"What'd you do this time, Slugger?" he asked in exasperation, "Did you set the kitchen on fire again with one of your experiments?"
Barry laughed and shook his head.
"No, I sort of snuck out last night," he answered sheepishly, "Iris and I went to a party."
Henry shook his head in amused disapproval.
"Please tell me you were at least responsible," he said, but there was a small smile on his face.
"I was," Barry answered, "Well, Iris was at least. Normally I'm the more responsible one, but last night…That's not important though. I mean, of course it's important. Being responsible is always important, but—"
"Barry," Henry said, cutting off his rant, "I'm not mad. As long as you got home safely, I understand."
"You do?" Barry said, relieved.
"Of course," his father said, "I was young once. I know how it is. I want you to have fun, normal high school experiences, as long as you always use good judgement and are responsible about it."
Barry smiled at him, and then Henry continued.
"That being said though, I also don't want to contradict Joe. You have to respect his rules, Barry, and if he doesn't want you and his daughter sneaking out at night, you have to respect that. I hope you haven't been giving him too much of a hard time."
Barry's smile left his face as his father continued.
"I might be okay with you going out and having fun every now and then, but if Joe isn't, then I'm not going to override him. I respect his parenting decisions."
"But he's not my parent," Barry said immediately, "You are."
Henry sighed.
"I am, Barry, but Joe is your legal guardian," he said lightly, "You need to listen to him."
Barry also sighed. They had had this exact conversation before, a few times actually. It always reminded him of the day he had gone to visit his father shortly after he had been convicted. His father had explained everything to him, explained that he would be staying with the Wests from now on, that they were going to take good care of him and that he needed to listen to Joe and be a good boy.
"Well, maybe he doesn't have to be my legal guardian," Barry challenged, "If we got you out, you could be."
Henry shook his head sadly.
"Barry…"
"Just hear me out," Barry said excitedly, "I've been going over the different methods for case appeals, and I found in section fourteen, paragraph G of the—"
"Barry," his dad said, cutting him off, "We've talked about this. You need to stop."
"No, no. Just hear me out this time, dad," Barry said happily, "I found—"
"Barry, please stop," Henry said, closing his eyes in anguish.
The smile slid from Barry's face, and he stopped talking, looking at his dad with a crestfallen expression on his face.
"Barry," his dad said in a strained voice, "I appreciate everything that you're trying to do for me. I really do, but you need to move on. You need to stop playing lawyer."
Barry frowned at his father.
"But I can do this, dad," Barry said quietly, "I can help."
"There's nothing you can do, Barry," his father said quietly, "Nothing. You need to accept that."
"No," Barry said stubbornly, shaking his head, "I'm going to get you out of here one day, dad. I promise. I'll go to law school. Or I'll become a cop. Or a forensics expert. I don't know. I'll find a way to help you out of here somehow."
"Barry," Henry said firmly, "Stop. I don't want you wasting your life trying to help me. If you continue to obsess like this about getting me out of here, you're going to miss out on everything else. I want you to have a life, son. I don't want you to be trapped in here with me. I want you to be free to live your life."
"I can't," Barry said in anguish, "I can't do that without my dad. I can't."
"You have Joe, Barry," Henry said sadly, "And you have Iris. You're not alone, Slugger. You still have people who care about you."
"Joe hates me," Barry said quietly.
Henry was taken aback.
"What would make you say that?" he asked.
Barry shook his head, tears forming in his eyes.
"I don't know," he said, "I mess everything up. He's so mad at me right now. And even when he's not mad at me, I know he probably regrets taking me in and letting me live there."
"Barry," Henry said sadly, "There's no way that's true."
"Of course it is," Barry said tearfully, "I'm just a burden to him. He spends all his money on meds and therapists for me, and I refuse to use them. I refuse to go see them when he asks me to."
"Has he been pushing the therapy stuff again?" Henry asked sadly.
Barry nodded.
"Why, Barry?" his dad asked, "What's been going on?"
"Nothing," Barry said dismissively.
"Son, please tell me," Henry insisted.
Barry sighed.
"I've just been getting the nightmares again," he said quietly, "That's all."
Henry looked like he wanted more than anything to reach through the glass that was separating them and give his son a hug, but he couldn't. He hadn't been able to do that for five years.
"Son," Henry said after a moment, "Maybe the therapist isn't such a bad idea."
"I'm not doing it," Barry said stubbornly, "There's no way that I'm going back there again."
"Barry, maybe it's what you need," Henry said desperately, "A boy your age shouldn't be worried about nightmares or case appeals. You're dealing with a lot of stuff that you shouldn't have to deal with."
"Dad, you don't understand," Barry said desperately, "They treat me like I'm crazy. They analyze me. They tell me horrible things about you, about how you really killed mom and about how everything that I know as the truth is all just in my head. You really want me to go and talk to them?"
Henry sighed. It was all so complicated. He could see that Barry was struggling and that he needed to talk to somebody, but he also didn't want his son's faith in him to waver. Barry knew the truth, and talking to a variety of different shrinks only made him feel judged for his beliefs. Henry didn't like the idea of a bunch of therapists treating his son like he's delusional, but at the same time, Barry was going through so much, and if talking to a psychologist helped him, maybe it would be worth it.
"Son," Henry said in a strained voice, "I know it's hard and it's confusing when you're being told so many different things. As long as you know the truth, what does it matter what a few therapists think? They don't know us or our family or what we've been through. That being said though, I think you might still benefit from talking to them."
"Why?" Barry asked incredulously, "Obviously I'm not crazy, and I'm not delusional, so why would I need to talk to them?"
"Barry," Henry said painfully, "Your nightmares are coming back. We go through this every year. We can't just keep ignoring it every time until it goes away, only to return the next year. After what you went through, it's only to be expected that you would have some residual anxiety from it."
"It's not enough that I'm on medication for it?" Barry said angrily, "Now you and Joe want me go back into therapy?"
"Barry, no one is going to judge you for it," his father said, "Like I said, kids your age don't normally have to deal with stuff like this. There's nothing to be ashamed of."
"I'm not going to do it, dad," Barry said, although he didn't sound stubbornly angry now. If anything, his voice sounded pleading.
"I can't go back to therapy," he said desperately, "I can't. Please, dad. I can't. Please don't make me do it. You don't know what it's like. Please. I just can't. Please."
Henry had to hold back tears as he listened to his son's pleading. This wasn't right. Barry was so smart and so bright. Henry hated the fact that his bright, beautiful boy was being held back from reaching his potential because of everything that had happened to him. He often wondered what life would have been like for them if none of this had ever happened. If his wife was still alive and their family was still together in one piece. Barry shouldn't be sitting in front of him, a pane of thick glass between them as Barry begged through the telephone for them not to send him back to therapy. This entire situation was wrong.
Barry should be just a normal boy. He should be hanging out with his friends on Saturdays, not sitting in a dark, dim prison visitation area. Barry should be worrying about what colleges he was going to apply to, not nightmares and court appeals. His boy had so much potential, and it killed Henry to think that Barry might be so preoccupied with what had happened to their family that he may never see the full range of that potential. He might never be able to grow up into the extraordinary person he was sure to have otherwise become.
"It's alright, son," Henry said soothingly, a hint of sadness in his voice, "I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do. I don't really have a say in the matter anyways. I just think that therapy might not be a bad idea. Ultimately, it should be your decision though."
Barry took a deep breath and nodded gratefully. If only Joe would feel the same way. Barry was still nervous that he was going to force him into therapy, whether he wanted to do it or not.
"I'm sorry, dad," Barry said quietly, "I wanted to have a more pleasant visit with you today. I didn't want to make you feel worried or upset. I just wanted to have a nice talk with you."
"I know, Barry," Henry said sadly, "But you don't have to worry about my feelings. I want to know these things. I want to know everything that's going on with you, even if it's painful to hear about."
When Barry continued to look sad, Henry tried to change the subject.
"So, why don't you tell me about this party you went to last night," he said with a smile.
Barry smiled too and then proceeded to tell him about his night out with Iris and even told him about Becky. Henry was glad to see that his son wasn't completely isolating himself and that despite everything he was going through, he was still having plenty of social experiences. Despite all of the darkness in Barry's life, he still managed to walk in the light.