I'm returning to this story! Finally! I'm so sorry about the wait! I didn't think people were all that interested in this story, to be honest, but a review from TheStreakLives on one of my other stories pushed me to update. Thanks for the nudge! I hope you like the chapter!

In case anyone is thinking from my last chapter that I dislike Joe, I just have to make sure everyone knows that he's my absolute favorite character—next to Barry, of course. I'm not trying to make him out to be the bad guy in this story. I'm simply showing some of the challenges and bumps along the way that Barry and Joe may have gone through throughout Barry's adolescence. Their father-son-like relationship is a complicated one, and I would imagine they would have gone through some rough patches over the years, especially with Joe's involvement with Barry's father's conviction. You can see a lot of tension between Barry and Joe in the pilot episode, and I feel like that tension is sort of forgotten about as the series progressed.

I also just want everyone to keep in mind that Barry is sixteen in this story. Although, I'd imagine Barry was always very mature for his age, he's still a teenager, and he's going through an emotional time, so if he seems OOC, that's why.

Normal

Earlier, Barry had been sure that he would have to face Joe's anger the entire rest of the weekend, but he found that that wasn't the case. Instead of yelling at him, Joe was silent. Instead of shooting glares at him, Joe hardly even looked at Barry. Instead of being angry, Joe was sullen and quiet.

Barry found that this was so much worse than facing Joe's anger. He wanted to apologize and hated the fact that Joe was upset because of him, but at the same time, Barry didn't want to apologize. He still thought that he was in the right, and he had no regrets about going to see his dad. He knew he had said some hurtful things, but did Joe not realize how much it hurt when he talked about Barry's father the way that he did? Did he seriously not realize how that made Barry feel?

No, Barry was not going to apologize. Joe would get over it. If anything Joe should apologize to him. For trying to stop him from seeing his dad. For locking his dad up in the first place.

The tension between Barry and Joe didn't go unnoticed by Iris. They weren't actively fighting, but the way they were avoiding each other and not speaking to one another was almost just as noticeable.

"What's going on with you two?" she asked Barry on Sunday night, "What's up with you and my dad?"

"Nothing," Barry answered, not looking up from his homework, "It's fine."

"I don't know what it is," Iris said seriously, "but it's definitely not fine."

Barry didn't say anything back to that. He just kept working on his homework, erasing something and penciling in a new answer.

"I want an answer, Barry," she said firmly.

"You should talk to him then," Barry said, "He's the one who's been avoiding me."

"I already have talked to him," she said in frustration, "He's not telling me anything. And it's not just all him, Bar. You've been avoiding him too."

"Don't worry about it, Iris," Barry said unconcernedly, "It'll blow over. It always does."

"Oh, no," she said angrily, "We're not doing that this time. You know I hate it when you two boys fight. I'm not dealing with two weeks of you two avoiding each other and skirting around the issue until it goes away on its own. You need to fix this, Barry Allen."

"I don't know how to do that," he said, finally looking up from his homework, a serious look on his face, "I said something that really hurt him, Iris. I don't know how to fix it."

"How about saying you're sorry?" she said obviously.

Barry sighed and looked back down at his homework. He could still feel Iris's eyes on him though.

"You're not sorry, are you?" she asked quietly.

"I'm sorry that he's upset," Barry said simply, "But I'm not going to apologize for what I said. All I said was the truth."

"What did you say?" she asked him.

Barry paused, hesitating before telling her.

"I said that this wasn't home to me," he said, "And that he wasn't really my dad."

"Barry…" Iris whispered.

She looked just as hurt as her father had when he said these words.

"I'm sorry," Barry said, "But it's true, isn't it? I mean, yeah I live here and all, but…I'm not your family. I'm just your charity case."

"Barry," Iris said, "That's not true. You are family. You've been with us for five years now. Of course, you're family."

Barry sighed.

"I don't know," he said, "Sometimes I still feel like a guest here. I still feel like the little kid that just moved here, and seeing my house the other night…"

"I'm sorry about that," Iris said quickly, "I know that was hard for you. I can't imagine the feelings that must have brought up for you. The memories."

"I just miss it," Barry said quietly, "I appreciate everything you and Joe have done for me. I like living here. I really do. I have a good life here. It's just…I really miss my old life. I miss my old house…and my mom."

"I know, Barry," Iris said, placing a hand on his shoulder, "I know."

Barry sighed.

"I'm going to go to bed," he said quietly, "I'm really tired."

"Okay, Barry," she said softly, frowning as she watched him stand up and walk towards the stairs, leaving his unfinished homework spread out over the kitchen table.

It wasn't like him. It wasn't like Barry to leave a mess without cleaning it up. It especially wasn't like him to not finish his homework. Barry wasn't himself.

It killed her to hear him admit that he didn't feel at home here, that he still felt like a guest, a "charity case" as he had put it. Iris didn't see him that way, and she was sure her dad didn't either, so she wondered what had happened to make him feel that way. Maybe it was seeing his old house. Maybe seeing it reminded him that the life he was living wasn't the way it was originally supposed to be. He wasn't supposed to be living in her house. He was supposed to be living in his own, with his own parents.

Iris tried to think if there was ever anything she had said or did to make him feel like he wasn't a part of the family, but she couldn't. Well, there was always the fact that she corrected people when they called her and Barry brother and sister, but he did that too. They were family, but she didn't think of Barry as a brother necessarily. They were best friends, and they were family, but not necessarily in a sibling sort of way.

She knew her dad definitely considered him like a son though. He looked at Barry with a pride that only a parent feels for their own child. He loved Barry as if he were his own, which is why Iris was sure he was probably really hurting over what Barry had said. Barry probably didn't even know how much his words had hurt him. He often underestimated how much her father cared about him. He thought that Joe considered him to be a burden and a responsibility, but not really a son. Barry couldn't be more wrong.

Something was going on with him. Something really wasn't right. Iris found herself always hating this time of year simply because of how hard it was for Barry. She didn't blame him. She knew it wasn't his fault, and all she wanted was to just be there to help him.

Barry had friends, of course, and they were great guys. Camron and Matt made Barry feel normal. They didn't, however, know how to handle it when Barry got like this. Hell, they hardly even noticed it. They sometimes maybe noticed that something was a little off about him, but they didn't ever address it. That's what Iris and Joe were there for. They knew Barry better than anyone. They knew when he wasn't himself.

…..

Barry tried to ignore the weight of guilt in his chest as he climbed the stairs. He hated making Joe and Iris feel bad, and he wished that he hadn't said anything about his feelings to them. He didn't say what he did to hurt them. He was just growing more and more frustrated with the situation with his father.

It was like his father had given up all hope that he would ever get out of Iron Heights, and he wanted Barry to give up that hope too. Barry wasn't ready to do that. He didn't think he ever would be. He wasn't ready to accept that he didn't have a family anymore, at least not the one he wanted. He wanted his own family, and although he loved Joe and Iris, he didn't ever feel ready to fully accept them as his family because doing that would feel like dismissing his own. Doing that would make it real.

No, it was easier to think of himself as their guest or their charity case than it was as an adopted son. He was Henry's son, not Joe's.

He was Henry's son.

Feeling more confused and weighed down by everything than ever, Barry climbed into bed, trying not to think about his fight with Joe, his conversation with Iris, his father rotting away in prison, his dead mother, his pile of unfinished homework downstairs, or the nightmares that were sure to haunt him tonight. Barry turned over in bed and sighed before sitting up and flicking on his bedside lamp. He pulled open the drawer of his nightstand and pulled out the little orange medicine bottle he kept there.

He held it in his hand for a moment, staring at the label.

Allen, Bartholomew
Lorazepam 0.5mg tab
Take one tab 3x daily as needed for anxiety

Barry glared at the label, hating every word. It made him feel weak, like he was this fragile thing that would be overcome with hysteria if he didn't get his stupid pill. He tossed the bottle back into his nightstand drawer and turned off the light before laying back down again.

He didn't need it.

He didn't need to drug himself to be normal. He regretted self-medicating with alcohol the other night, and he vowed to himself that he wasn't going to do anything like that again. He wasn't weak. He didn't need medication. He wasn't a freak. He was normal, just like everybody else.

…..

Joe wasn't even in bed yet before he heard Barry's screams. Neither was Iris. It was only nine thirty. Iris was standing outside Barry's door when Joe got there. She was hesitating outside it, not sure if she should go in or not. For some reason, every time this happened, Barry didn't want her in there. Really he didn't want either of them in there, but he especially didn't want her. Iris didn't understand why that was, but Joe did.

Joe understood that Barry didn't want Iris to see any of this. He didn't want her to see him in that state because sometimes when Joe woke him from his nightmares he was a crying mess and it took a while for him to calm down. Barry didn't want Iris there as a witness to his embarrassing episodes. He didn't want her to know how bad it really was, didn't want her to know about the medication or any of it. He didn't want Iris to look at him differently.

"I've got him," Joe said to her. She stared at him with fear and worry in her eyes as Barry continued to scream.

"Are you sure?" she asked, looking at the door.

"I can handle it," he assured her before cautiously entering the room.

"Please don't!" Barry sobbed in his sleep, "Please don't kill her!"

"Barry," Joe said, shaking the teenager's shoulder, "Barry, wake up."

"Don't!" he yelled, "Mom! No! Mom!"

"Barry!" Joe shouted.

"He's going to kill her!" Barry cried, "Please, he's going to her!"

Joe felt tears prickling in his eyes. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that Barry had had to go through all of this and that he then had to go and relive it every night like this. He wondered if Barry's dreams showed him the truth. Maybe what made them so awful was the fact that his subconscious was trying to show him what really happened. Maybe he dreamed about what he actually saw that night, his father murdering his mother.

"Barry!" Joe shouted, shaking Barry harder, "Barry, it's not real! It's not real, son!"

Barry sobbed in his sleep, his face covered with tears that had leaked from his eyes.

"Mom," he cried, his breathing ragged and face screwed up in pain and sorrow, "Mom, please. Hold on. Don't die. Please, mom. Please don't leave me."

Joe felt sick to his stomach as he shook Barry's shoulder. He felt an internal battle within him, two powerful emotions at war with each other, fighting for dominance. Sadness for Barry, and anger towards his father.

Joe hated Henry.

He hated that bastard for doing this, for causing all this pain. He did this to his own family, to his own son. He had given Barry all this pain, and now Joe was here, trying to comfort him. Joe was here. He was the one comforting Barry at night after his nightmares. He was the one who was helping Barry recover, helping him move past this. He was the one trying to repair the damage that Henry had caused. He was the one keeping Barry fed, keeping clothes on his back and a roof over his head.

He was the one who was raising Barry.

And yet, Barry longed for his real father. Barry wanted Henry, not Joe.

Joe didn't feel any anger towards Barry for this. If anything, it just made him hate Henry more. It wasn't enough that he had destroyed his family. He also had to continue playing these mind games with Barry. He had to manipulate the kid and keep him believing in him. He was intentionally inhibiting his own son's recovery, encouraging Barry's delusions. It made Joe sick with rage. He just wished Barry could see what he saw. He wished Barry could finally see things as the way they were, see his father for the monster that he truly was.

He wanted desperately to explain all of this to Barry, but he knew that would only push the kid away, maybe for good this time. Barry didn't want to hear the truth. He didn't want to accept the fact that his father was just using him. Joe didn't understand what Henry was really playing at. Was prison really that horrible or boring that he needed to ruin his son's life just to have someone visit with him once a week? Hadn't he already done enough to the poor boy by murdering his mother right in front of him?

"Mom!" Barry screamed, rousing Joe from his thoughts, "Mom, please!"

"Barry!" Joe yelled, shaking his shoulders harder.

Barry suddenly gasped and opened his eyes as he sat up in bed, looking around in confusion and pulling in huge gulps of air.

"Joe," he cried, tears streaming down his face.

Joe wrapped his arms around Barry and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.

"It's okay, Bar," he soothed, rubbing his back, "I've got you."

"He killed her," Barry sobbed, "I couldn't stop it."

"It's alright, Barry," Joe said, his voice cracking, "It's over now. He's locked up now. He can't hurt anyone ever again."

Barry suddenly pulled away from the hug, a shocked look on his face, which quickly turned into a glare. Barry's watery eyes narrowed at Joe.

"Get out," he gritted.

"Barry," Joe said painfully.

"Get out!" Barry yelled.

Joe slowly stood up from the edge of the bed.

"Barry," he said brokenly, "I just trying to help you see the—"

"I know the truth!" Barry shouted, "Now, get out!"

Joe gave Barry a pained look. He reached out and tried to touch Barry's arm, but Barry yanked it away. Joe's breath caught in his chest, and he had to swallow back the painful lump in his throat. He slowly opened Barry's nightstand drawer and pulled out his medication bottle, setting it silently on top of the table. If Barry wouldn't let him comfort him, he at least hoped that it would help. Joe gave Barry another pained look before he turned silently and left the room, closing the door gently behind him.

Iris was still standing outside the door when Joe made it out to the hallway, and she had clearly heard the whole exchange.

"Should I try to talk to him?" she whispered sadly.

Joe just shook his head.

"No," he said quietly, "Don't go in there right now. He needs to be alone."

With that, Joe walked down the hall towards the bathroom to get ready for bed, ignoring the tears in his eyes.

…..

Barry rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes as he walked down the hall towards his next class. He hadn't even waited for Cam and Matt. Normally they walked to History together, but Barry didn't really feel like talking about Call of Duty or sports or whatever other trivial things Cam and Matt had been talking about at lunch. Really, he had barely heard a word of it.

He knew if he kept this up, Cam and Matt were bound to notice, but he didn't really care. They hadn't noticed so far. They never did. They were great guys, but they didn't understand Barry's family problems. They both had normal, nuclear families, and although they knew about Barry's past and the fact that he was foster kid, they didn't understand what all of it was like for him.

Barry was pulled away from his sullen thoughts when all of a sudden his books were scattering over the hallway floor. He had been carrying them in one hand by his side, and someone had come up behind him and roughly smacked them out of his grasp.

"You dropped something, Allen," Tony laughed as he passed by with his friends.

Barry glared at him and bent down to pick up his books.

"Here, let me help you with that," Tony said, stepping forward, "accidentally" kicking one of the books to send it skidding down the hall.

"Whoops," he said sarcastically, "Sorry."

Barry didn't say anything as he picked up his books. He didn't feel like coming up with some witty retort. He didn't feel up to any of this right now. As he was picking up one of his books, Barry's wallet fell out of his back pocket. Barry lunged for it, but he wasn't quick enough to grab it before Tony scooped it up.

Tony straightened and opened the wallet. Barry stood up and glared at him.

"Give that back," he gritted.

"One second," Tony sneered, as all of his friends laughed, "What have we here?"

Tony pulled a small card out of the wallet, and Barry paled when he saw it.

It was his Iron Heights visitors badge.

"Give that back," Barry said again, his voice a lot quieter and weaker now.

Tony just laughed.

"Why? So you can go visit your homicidal daddy?" he taunted, brandishing the badge.

Tony then held it up for everyone else in the hall to see.

"Look at this," he said to everyone, "Little Barry's spending some quality time with his sicko father. What? Is he teaching you his methods? Want to grow up to be a murderer just like your daddy someday?"

"Please stop," Barry said, tears forming in his eyes as he looked at the card in Tony's hand, staring at the small picture of himself on the badge.

Tony just laughed and tossed Barry's wallet on the floor in front of him. He pocketed the badge as he walked away, he and all of his friends still laughing. Barry took a shaky breath and bent down to pick up his wallet, his face burning as he tried to ignore all of the people who were still standing in the hall, staring at him.

Barry didn't go to his history class.

Instead, he went to the men's room, where he closed himself up a bathroom stall and let his tears fall.