Summary: Eddie was a good guy and that was okay, but Barry knows the truth. Being the good guy sucks.
Step with care and great tact, and remember that life's a great balancing act.
-Present Day (One Year, Two Months, and Two Weeks After the Tidal Wave)-
Barry knew exactly what Eddie was thinking, because Eddie was a good guy. Not just because he was a cop that wasn't on the take, or because he had a spectacular arrest record, but because he wanted to do the right thing and he didn't do it for a pat on the back – not that he didn't like being patted on the back. Everyone liked being patted on the back, which was why Barry had agreed to do this in the first place. That and he really did feel bad about getting Eddie kidnapped.
"In our last session, you said that Harrison doesn't allow you to use his kitchen?"
"Nope."
"Yet, you live with him."
Barry frowned at his hands. "I don't get to use his toothbrush, either. I don't hear you asking about that."
"A toothbrush is a personal affect not often shared by couples."
"Try telling that to Lilly and Marshal."
Eddie sighed heavily next to him. "Barry, you promised to take this seriously."
Fine. He slouched down, pulling his legs up to cross them on the sofa and tugged down on the edges of the black beanie that covered the bright blue streaks in his hair. Captain Singh's orders - dye his hair back or wear a hat. The look of pure annoyance on Harrison's face was worth it and, besides, the beanie reminded him of Joe.
"Barry?" Dr. Holt's prodding was gentle, as always, well aware of what and who he was dealing with. The first session hadn't gone that well.
"No, he doesn't let me use the kitchen. As he puts it, the cost of his appliances alone are worth more than my annual salary and his insurance doesn't cover reckless teenagers."
"And how does that make you feel?"
Barry held out his hand and Eddie pressed another Oreo into his palm, which Barry ate as slowly as possible. He wasn't even pretending to be thinking about the answer, just enjoying his reward for putting up with that question. Over and over.
How did it make him feel that his family was dead and he was sleeping with the man who was responsible for that?
Not good when you put it that way, but the sex was great, so that was something.
How did it make him feel that he'd been forced into moving in with Harrison?
It hadn't been forced. He didn't have anywhere else to go. Joe's house was trashed, as was most of Central City. At least Harrison had solar panels so they weren't going to freeze to death in the winter.
How did it make him feel that Harrison cut him off from the rest of his friends?
Harrison hadn't cut him off from anyone. He'd cut himself off. It was better that way.
How did it make him feel that he wasn't allowed to use the kitchen because Harrison called him a reckless teenager when he was, in fact, a perfectly capable man in his mid-twenties?
"He's said worse."
"Like what?"
For real? Barry picked dirt from under his finger nails and shook his head. Not going there. He wasn't rehashing all the hurtful things Harrison called him when they fought, because Barry wasn't guilt free in that department.
"Let's take a step back. He doesn't let you use the kitchen. Does he allow you to keep food there?"
Where had that come from? Or, more importantly, where was it going? "Of course I keep food there. Did you forget the part where I have an accelerated metabolism? If I didn't have food, I'd pass out. Not much good in bed if I'm unconscious."
The last jab was meant to make them feel uncomfortable. It worked with Eddie, who turned an amusing shade of pink. Dr. Holt, however, just looked more interested and now Barry was uncomfortable.
"That sounds like you think he's keeping you around simply for the sex."
"No, he's keeping me around because he needs me to complete his diabolical master plan. The sex is a bonus."
"Hm, and how does that make you feel?"
"Hungry." He held his hand out and Eddie dropped an Oreo in it obediently.
Dr. Holt's eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry, are you giving him one of those every time I ask how something makes him feel?"
Eddie stuttered around his answers and came up with. "It was the only way he would agree to come back."
Barry nodded gravely. "Only took you four sessions to figure it out. And you call yourself observant."
Dr. Holt tapped his pen on his clipboard. It was a nice pen – thin, gun metal and silver with an intricately etched pattern on the lower half and his name on the top, Dr. Charles Holt. Eddie's ring tone interrupted the rhythmic tap, and he fished his phone out to look at the display. "It's the department, I'll be right back."
While Eddie stepped out, Dr. Holt gave Barry his full attention back. "Seeing as you have your reward, are you going to answer my question? Honestly, if you can."
"What?" Oh, right. How did it make him feel that Harrison only kept him around because he needed him to finish his plan? Barry leaned forward to glance at the half open door and lowered his voice to a whisper so Eddie couldn't hear, meeting Dr. Holt's eyes. "Honestly? It makes me feel good. It makes me feel powerful. It makes me feel like I'm in control. It makes me feel needed and wanted and like I could make him do anything if I pretended, just for a second, to even consider doing what he wanted."
"And yet you take no overt power in your relationship with him."
"I don't need to."
The door opened and Barry sat back, dropping his smile as Eddie came in. "Sorry about that, we have to get back to the precinct. Barry, can I have a minute alone with Dr. Holt?"
Barry shrugged and went outside to watch the shrimp in the fishtank. He'd insisted Eddie sit in on the sessions and he'd signed a consent allowing Dr. Holt to discuss Barry's progress – or lack thereof – with Eddie as well. Didn't matter, really, this wasn't for Barry. This was for Eddie, to make him feel like he was doing something, because Eddie was a good person and he wanted to do the right thing, but sometimes, the right thing was the wrong thing. Eventually, Eddie would get that.
He glanced at the closed door and back at the shrimp, putting a finger to his lips. "Sh." Then silently crept back across the room to press his ear to the door.
"…alone with him." That was Dr. Holt, calm and matter of fact.
"That's easier said than done." Eddie sounded more agitated. "He's… insistent and I can't exactly force him."
"I'm not suggesting you do. I am, however, telling you that I can only work with what he brings into the session. When you left the room just now? That was the most honest he's been in five weeks." Oh, screw him. Barry was honest. He was honestly annoyed at being there in the first place. At least having Eddie there meant he wasn't suffering alone.
"I'll talk to him."
Barry rushed back and leaned in close to the tank, waiting for the door to open before saying, "That's our secret," to the tiny shrimp trying to crawl up the side of the tank in front of Barry's nose.
Eddie didn't look amused, Dr. Holt did. Good for Dr. Holt.
[]
It was a nice day out, sunny, but cool. Eddie had insisted they be discrete about the whole thing. Once a week, Eddie took Barry out to what they said was an early lunch. On the way back to the station, they'd grab vendor food, because Barry couldn't afford to skip a meal. Currently, was six chili cheese dogs in and Barry was licking the traces of chili and cheese off his fingers like he was starving. Or a porn star. Eddie was used to it by now, but the other pedestrians clearly weren't.
"Barry."
"Hm?" Barry stopped with his ring finger tucked inside his mouth.
"There are children."
He pulled the finger out with a pop and sighed. "I'm still hungry."
"How much do you need to eat, anyway?" When Barry had first told him about being the Flash, he'd glossed over most of the details and Eddie had been too stunned to press.
"Roughly the amount of 850 tacos."
"What?!"
Barry shoved his hands in his pockets and matching their steps. "That's what Cisco said. He made me protein bars that supplemented most of it, but he's gone now."
"So, you don't have those anymore?"
"Nope." Barry eyed a taco vendor as they passed, but didn't say anything. "I have the recipe, but I ran out and I can't make any more."
"Why not?"
Barry tipped his head with raised eyebrows. "Because his appliances cost more than my annual salary and his insurance doesn't cover reckless teenagers."
"Oh." Eddie stopped just outside the CCPD. "Barry, you do realize that you're more than welcome to use my kitchen?"
There was a second, one small second, where the look on Barry's face was nothing short of stunned. Like it hadn't occurred to him, either that Eddie had a kitchen or maybe just that Eddie would be okay with Barry using it.
The second was broken when footsteps behind them were accompanied by the all too familiar voice of Dr. Wells. "Barry, there you are. Captain Singh said you'd gone out to lunch with Detective Thawne. Hello, Eddie."
Barry rocked on his heels excitedly, but didn't rush to Dr. Wells' side. Wells insisted on a certain amount of restraint from Barry when they were in public. It wouldn't do to be unprofessional in his capacity as scientific advisor.
"You weren't at any of the usual restaurants. Where did he take you?"
Barry smiled sublimely. "Hotdogs. There's a vendor down the street that makes the best chili cheese dogs. You should try it."
"Another time, perhaps." He turned his attention to Eddie. "For now, I have a matter I'd like to discuss with Mr. Allen. In his lab."
Eddie nodded. "Of course."
Barry followed Wells, talking enthusiastically. "We had a picnic in the park. We walked around, found some shade, talked. I got to pet a dog. It was nice. You should take me on a picnic."
"Detective Thawne is to be commended for his never ending patience."
"Someone's cranky." Barry slipped his hand into Dr. Wells' jacket pocket and pulled it out again, their fingers laced together as they walked up the steps and into the precinct building.
[]
There were rules. Not written down, but understood. Rules about what set Harrison off, what set Barry off, about certain other universes being off limits for a multitude of reasons, about certain people that were to remain unharmed as long as they kept their pointy objects out of Harrison's plans, and rules about when Barry was allowed to play hero. The last being arguably the most important rule as far as Harrison was concerned, because he needed Barry and he wasn't going to let him throw himself into danger if it wasn't necessary.
It was nice to be needed, but Barry really didn't like being told what to do. Not unless he was naked or there was cake involved. Or he was naked and there was cake involved. Best make up sex ever.
He shook his head a little. Focus. He needed to concentrate on the task at hand. Harder to do at the end of the day when he was running on fumes. He needed…
The girl behind the counter tapped his shoulder and he gave her a grateful smile as he took two oversized foam cups and headed for the door. He didn't spend a lot of time alone in the city, really. It made him uncomfortable. He used to have friend to go out with. Iris or Cisco or Joe, occasionally Caitlin. Unfortunately, today there wasn't anyone. Harrison and Eddie were stuck at the station and something had come up so he couldn't sit at home binge watching Netflix or running analysis in his lab all night.
He needed to make time to go to Eddie's. Harrison had been especially focused on Barry the last few days. Not that Barry was complaining. He liked the attention, but he needed to make more Cisco Bars. There was only so much food a person could consume in one day.
He paused on the sidewalk and stared at the bright pink straw sticking out of the giant smoothie in his left hand. Wait. There was a reason he'd gone out. Something he'd needed to do, but he couldn't without… Two girls walked by and he caught a small snippet of their conversation.
"…it's another metahuman."
"Really?"
"Totally. This city has serious issues."
Right. There was a metahuman doing damage to the lower eastside where they were currently using large anonymous donations to rebuild the hospital and the school. Whoever it was had been stealing copper wiring. When the construction workers found her at the site, she'd shot electricity at them. From her hands. They weren't coming back until the situation was handled and, worse, copper wiring was really expensive and a necessary component for the building's permit.
He'd message the 'anonymous' benefactor that morning, when they'd confirmed it was a meta, but all he'd gotten back was, 'Busy, Scarlet. Take care of it. I'll owe you."
Which was all good and well, except it came back to Harrison's rule about him not getting involved unless it was absolutely necessary, meaning there was a body – preferably multiple ones. In this case, she may have attacked the construction workers, but beyond a few minor electrical burns, she hadn't actually harmed anyone.
He stopped long enough to finish the drink in his right hand, throw it away, and pulled his phone out, taping out a quick text while he started on the other.
'Why can't you do it again?'
Five minutes later, he got the less than impressive response of, 'Busy.'
'Doing what?'
'Making a withdrawal. Not all of us can run faster than the speed of sound, kid. Go be a hero. Like I said, I'll owe you.'
Rolling his eyes, he concentrated on sucking down the second smoothie. By the time he finished he was feeling jittery and it might be enough. Probably not. Shit, he was going to crash so hard after this. And Harrison was gonna be pissed.
Barry took a deep breath, gripped the handle of his CCPD bag, and ran. He still used his speed daily, he had to. It was a part of him and he wasn't entirely sure he could live without it or that he'd even want to, but most of the time, it was closely monitored. Harrison watched everything, measuring Barry's speed, his heart rate, his excursion. He measured him with computers and with their shared connection to the Speedforce, but Harrison wasn't monitoring him now, this wasn't supervised practice and he didn't need to restrain himself.
He blurred into his suit and shot across the city, running into the lower east, looking for the suspect. He'd seen her in security footage and the witness sketches. From the state of her clothes and general comments on her hygiene, he was guessing she was homeless, but then so were a lot of people in Central City, especially on that side of town. The lower east was positively derelict. With the anonymous donations they'd been getting, it was starting to improve, but it still housed the largest number of homeless and a good portion of the city's metahumans in hiding.
He hid his bag of street clothes and cell phone behind the dumpster of the building where the girl had last been seen. It didn't take long to find her, huddled on the second floor of the school. It was too dark to see her clearly, but when she saw him, she stood and he recognized the bright pink Hello Kitty pirate t-shirt. Well, that and the sparks of electricity dancing over her body, but the shirt was still adorable – the eye-patch and parrot looked like they had been hand drawn with a sharpie, but they were really well done.
When she didn't say anything, he held his hands out to his sides, making it clear he was unarmed. "Cute shirt!"
A shot of electricity hit the ground near his feet and he hopped back. "For real? That was a compliment!"
He ran across the room to avoid the next one, but it still hit wide of where he'd been standing. Either she was a really bad shot, or she was missing on purpose. "I'm not…"
She fired off another one and okay, that was it. "Would you stop it?! I'm nowhere near you! I'm all the way over here on my side of the room. You're there, on yours. My side. Your side. My side. Your side." He chuckled. "You get what I did there? It's a Farscape reference, from the crazy guy, 'cause I'm…"
She cocked her head to the side and he frowned.
"Never mind. Look, point is, I'll stay over here and you stay over there and stop trying to electrocute me, because not getting electrocuted was kind of on my list of things to do today."
When she didn't try it again, he relaxed minutely. "Do you have a name?"
"You're the Flash."
Okay, that was a start. She sounded young, but without getting closer, he couldn't tell. "You want to tell me what's going on here?"
"It hurts."
"What hurts?"
She held her arms away from her body, out and forward. Barry took a tentative few steps forward until he could see them better. Under the sparking, her forearms were brown. No, not brown, copper. She'd wrapped the copper wiring around her arms and now that he looked, he could see hints of it around her mid-drift and up her calves, like she was working on wrapping it around her entire body. Copper was a one of the best conductors of electricity.
"The electricity hurts and the copper makes it better?"
She nodded, looking at him through the messy fall of straight, dark hair.
"Okay, but you can't keep stealing it, not from here. I can take you somewhere they can help."
He stepped forward again, but this time the burst caught him in the chest, flinging him back across the room. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't feel his heart beat… Barry slammed his own fist into his chest. Once. Twice. Couldn't… air rushed into his lungs and he coughed around it, his heart thumping wildly, but beating. He pushed up onto his hands and knees, but had to stop. His chest ached and the room was spinning. Not good. Not good. His body was burning through his calories to heal him. Worse, if his heart really had stopped, even for a second, Harrison would have felt it. He would have felt the disconnect with the Speedforce, and that meant…
He could tell her to run, but it wouldn't do any good.
He was still on his knees when the Reverse-Flash streaked into the room. When he stopped, his hand was already in her chest. Her eyes were wide, shocked behind her long dark hair and Barry couldn't help the swell of anger, because he thought Cisco might have looked like that. Just a little.
Then his arm pulled out of her chest. She fell in a heap on the ground and the red eyes turned to Barry. Crap. He was in so much trouble.
[]
Eddie finished buttoning his shirt and slid his gun into its holster, buttoning it down. His phone was on the table, unblinking. He tapped it anyway, but there were no messages or missed calls from his shower. He'd texted Barry late the night before, saying they needed to talk. The way Wells had been hovering the last three day had made getting Barry alone impossible, he wasn't likely to see him over the weekend, and Mondays were always busy in forensics. He needed to talk to Barry before their next appointment on Tuesday, try to get him to agree to do the session alone, with Eddie in the waiting room.
It was going to be a hard sell, but the more time Barry had to think about it, the more likely he'd be to do it. He'd just reached for his jacket when there was a knock on the door. He checked through the peep whole, but could only make out the top of someone's head. Two someone's, actually, one with short clipped hair in a black leather jacket, the other in a ball cap, arm draped over the other's shoulders, leaning heavily again him.
He unclipped his gun, but didn't draw it. "Who's there?"
"Delivery for Detective Thawne."
There was something familiar in the drawl – male, distinct, but he couldn't place it. He unlatched the door, slid it open, and froze as the man in the leather jacket looked up. Leonard Snart?! He scrambled to pull his gun out, aiming it at the man's face, but Snart didn't so much as flinch.
"Relax, Detective. Kid, we're here."
The man in the ballcap lifted his head and Eddie only had a moment to register that it was Barry before the speedster leapt forward, wrapping his arms around Eddie's shoulders.
"Eddie! Sorry, couldn't call. Wouldn't make it. Lenny was close. Lenny? Cold!" Barry looked over at Snart, smile too big and eyes too bright. "Thank you."
Snart nodded distractedly as he stared at Eddie, whose gun was still in his hand, if no longer pointed at Snart's head. "We good?"
Eddie hesitated, but put the gun in its holster and Barry was off him in the next second, launching himself at the fridge. He had absolutely no idea what was going on, but he did know that Snart had brought Barry to him severely hypoglycemic and clearly injured – if the way he was holding his arm around his midsection while he slumped to the floor next to the fridge with a half gallon of milk in his hand was any indication – but alive.
Snart stopped him from closing the door with a foot. "He'll be okay?"
"Why do you care?"
"He was doing me a favor."
What the hell was Barry doing for Captain Cold of all people? "He heals quickly."
Snart nodded and leaned in so Barry could see him. "I owe you, kid."
Barry gave a thumb's up and kept drinking, eyes rolling back into his head with soft moaning noises.
When the door was closed and locked, Eddie went into the kitchen and knelt down. "Are you really okay?"
Barry nodded. "Unsanctioned Flash activities. Metahuman stealing copper from the new school."
"And you…?"
"It's taken care of."
Eddie didn't miss that Barry's smile dropped a little at that. It must not have gone the way he wanted it to. "How does Snart fit into that?"
Barry's smile returned in full affect, with deep dimples and white teeth. "He's the anonymous donor for the lower east end!" Then it dropped just as quickly. "Oh. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone that. You won't tell, right? You're good. A good friend. Lenny trusts me. You won't tell."
Eddie sighed and reached up, tipping the half gallon up until Barry was drinking again. "I won't, but you owe me a real explanation after work. Come on, let's get some food in you."
Barry finished what was left of the milk and quickly ate everything Eddie handed him – several yogurts, half a loaf of French bread, eight Minibells, a mostly full jar of peanut butter, and the entire box of Hostess Twinkies that Eddie hadn't gotten around to opening yet. The last few Twinkies went down much slower and the bright glint in Barry's eyes had gone markedly dull, his lids half closed as he licked the cream inside, hollowing each half out before consuming the sponge cake exterior.
When he'd finally finished, Eddie helped him up off the floor and Barry let him, not protesting as he was half carried across the room and put into bed. For the first time, Eddie noticed that the black jeans Barry was wearing were too big, hanging off his hips by a synched in belt and the black shirt wasn't his, either. For one thing, it smelled clean, freshly washed, but not with his normal detergent. Dr. Wells stocked the expensive stuff, organic with a light scent. This was unmistakably Gain.
"Eddie?"
"Yeah?"
"I really miss Iris."
He wasn't sure where that had come from at first, but he followed Barry's gaze to the picture of Eddie and Iris together on his bedside table. "I miss her, too. Get some sleep."
"Eddie?"
"Yeah?"
"Tell Harrison I'll be home tonight."
The pit of Eddie's stomach dropped and he sat on the bed. Barry scooted over to put his head on Eddie's thigh, falling asleep in seconds.
[]
Eddie worked overtime to get his paperwork filed, but it was still after five before he got back. As he opened the door, he was instantly hit by a smell, not bad, but one that he couldn't place. Barry was sitting on the kitchen counter, a stack of neatly cut brown bars wrapped in cellophane to one side of him and three unwrapped rectangles on the other.
Barry's smile was normal, sane, no trace of the mania or the following crash and that was good. It meant he'd gotten enough food and rest. He was also sitting without any of the stiffness from the injuries he'd had earlier, so they must have healed. Actually, he looked calmer than Eddie had seen in a long time. His knees were bouncing in time to music coming from Eddie's open laptop of the kitchen table.
He'd changed into sweats and a S.T.A.R. Labs shirt that was recognizably his own. A quick look around the room and Eddie found Barry's CCPD bag in a corner, open and over stuffed with what he'd been wearing earlier that morning. Snart hadn't brought a bag with him, so Barry must have gone out and gotten it after he'd woken up.
As Eddie pulled his jacket off, Barry held out the rectangle he'd just finished wrapping. "Cisco Bars! Thanks for letting me use your kitchen. I made enough to last a few weeks."
Eddie came over for a closer look as Barry wrapped another one. A quick count said he'd made twenty four. "How many do you need?"
"Depends. On a good day, one and largish regular meals." Eddie sniffed one experimentally. Hm, if he had to guess there was something chocolate flavored, maybe peanut butter and he was pretty sure there was…
"Sorry about last night."
What?
"I don't know what time I came in, but I know it was late. So, thanks."
"Barry, what do you remember?"
Barry shrugged. "Not much. I was doing a… a thing for someone and then Harrison got mad and I remember…" Barry's eyes focused hard on the bar he was wrapping, even as his fingers slowed. "…and then he told me to come here, except… except everything is fuzzy after that."
"Barry, you didn't make it here last night. Leonard Snart dragged you in this morning. You really don't remember?"
"Len? Why would I? Oh. I didn't… did I say anything? Because if I did, I deny it." Barry stared hard at Eddie, setting the last, finished bar on the plate. It might have been intimidating if Eddie hadn't known him so well.
"You said he's the anonymous donor that's been funding the rebuild in the lower east."
"Right. So, now I'm denying it." Barry sped across the room to grab his bag, sped back and dropped the bars in before Eddie could stop him.
"Barry, you can't just…"
"Sorry, gotta go."
Eddie somehow managed to put himself between Barry and the door. "Wait, we need to talk."
Barry frowned. "It's not my secret, Eddie. I'm not…"
"No, not about that. It's about your appointment on Tuesday." The frown deepened, but Barry didn't precisely look confused or surprised. "I think you should go in alone. I'll be there, but in the waiting room."
And the frown melted into a pout. "But I don't want to. I like it when you're there."
"I know, but Dr. Holt wants to talk to you alone. Do it once and if you don't like it, then I'll come in next time."
Barry looked down at the floor and sighed. "I'll think about it, but I really do have to get home. Now."
Eddie stepped aside and Barry flashed him a smile before disappearing, leaving Eddie alone in his apartment.
[]
As expected, Barry didn't make an appearance at Eddie's that weekend. He didn't answer his phone, either, and text messages were responded to with one word, usually, 'later.' None of that was unusually, but it still made Eddie nervous.
He spent the time alone, working through case files in his loft, trying not to think about how bad Barry had been when he'd come in the night before and what that meant. He'd only been like that one time, the first time Wells had sent him home with Eddie. Barry had slept for hours, woken up, eaten just about everything in the cabinets and passed out again, but there hadn't been any indication of memory loss. Then again, there hadn't been a reason to question Barry's memory of the events. They both knew exactly what had happened.
Then there was Leonard Snart a/k/a Captain Cold. Eddie spent an entire afternoon on that one and found that there was a clear correlation between anonymous donations being made to the slums and high dollar thefts in other states. Obviously, he couldn't prove anything – Captain Cold wasn't the only thief in the country, but in connection with what Barry had said, it was too much to be a coincidence.
It was enough to make him want to crawl under a blanket and never come out, but he couldn't do that. He'd made a promise to Iris and even if she'd been dead at the time, he intended to keep it. Besides, it was more than that now. Barry was his friend, his family here.
He was called in late Sunday afternoon when the body of the metahuman girl was found at the construction site by local kids. There was a hole in her chest, her heart pulverized in the cavity.
It's taken care of.
Those had been Barry's words and Eddie had somehow taken it for granted that meant Barry had been the one to take care of it, but that wasn't what it had meant, because Eddie knew that no matter how damaged Barry was, he wasn't capable of that. If not Barry, though, who? Not Snart, that wasn't his M.O. and, besides, as much as he disliked the man on a professional level, there had been something genuine in his concern for Barry and Snart had never been outwardly cruel or malicious. As long as no one played the hero, everyone walked out alive and he never hurt women or children.
Eddie helped work the crime scene and got started on his paperwork, going home late Sunday night, his mind still working over the possibilities.
Then Monday came and Barry was… not normal, but better. He came out of his lab a full three times, engaged other officers of his own volition in conversation that followed a clear, logical progression and consisted of the occasional eye contact. When he stole a left over donut midday, he was only mildly inappropriate with the pastry as he walked back up the stairs.
He stopped to see Eddie before he left, eyes skirting around the office as he came to a stop at his desk, hands in his pockets, rocking on his heals with his shoulders hunched in. "So, I just wanted to say thank you again. For letting me use your kitchen."
Eddie nodded. "Anytime. Look, I tried calling, but did you get a chance to think about the appointment tomorrow?"
Barry's tentative smile faltered, then came back, crooked and his eyes glinting. "Yeah, sorry, I was… busy."
"Doing what? Running errands for," Eddie looked around to make sure none of the other detectives were around and dropped his voice, "Leonard Snart?"
"It's not like that. Len's funny's all. No, I was having sex. All weekend. All. Weekend. Turns out, fully charged, my refractory period is like zero, so, yeah. Like I said, thanks." And just like that, Eddie regretted it. "But, look, about tomorrow? It's just the once, right? You'll be in the waiting room and if I don't like it…?"
Or maybe not. If getting Barry to agree to more productive therapy meant Eddie had to hear about Barry's sex life, he'd suffer through the mental images. "Yes, Barry, of course."
After a minute, Barry nodded. "Okay, so tomorrow, 11:30."
[]
The arrangement with Dr. Holt was impressive. Barry had to give Eddie credit for that. The doctor normally shut his doors between the hours of eleven and one for lunch. Barry had no idea what Eddie had said to get the man to agree to an 11:30 appointment every Tuesday, but it meant there were no other patients to see them coming or going. It was also being billed under Eddie's name so it wouldn't come back to Barry. Not a fool proof plan, but, again, impressive.
Barry tapped the tank. "They're agitated."
They were running a few minutes early and Dr. Holt usually tried to eat his lunch before they arrived, so they'd sat down to wait.
Eddie sighed. "They're shrimp, Barry. They don't get agitated."
"I get agitated."
"You're not a shrimp."
Barry focused back on the tank. "Shows what he knows, huh?"
He chuckled at Eddie's obvious annoyance. A soft knock on the door indicated that Dr. Holt was ready and Barry stood, then stopped and leaned in, pointing into the tank with a serious frown. "Keep an eye on him for me."
Eddie sighed again and Barry knew he shouldn't push him like that, but Eddie really had the best annoyed face – almost as good as Harrison's.
Going into the office alone made Barry a little nervous. Eddie was his reminder to behave, to watch what he said, because no matter what, at the end of it, Eddie was alive. He had to be. Dr. Holt? Maybe not so much. As impressive as this setup was, Harrison was more impressive. He probably already knew about the therapy and was just waiting to see if…
Or he wasn't waiting for anything.
Barry stopped just inside the door, momentarily stunned to see Harrison standing on the other side of the room, just out of view of the open door and in front of him, Dr Holt tied to his chair, gagged with his own tie. Barry glanced back at Eddie, who was focused on the case file he was reading. If Harrison wanted Eddie there, he would have opened the door.
Quietly, Barry closed the door behind him and stepped away from it. "Hi."
Harrison inclined his head toward the couch and Barry gave Dr. Holt a wave as he sat down, but didn't say anything. When he was seated, Harrison leaned in behind Dr. Holt. "Now, Doctor, let's talk. According to your notes, Barry over there is holding back. He isn't being honest. He's here strictly to placate Detective Thawne and has no intentions of actively participating in therapy. Barry?"
Barry rolled his eyes. "Of course I'm only here for Eddie."
"And yet, at the end of your last session, Dr. Holt made a note that you have issues of power and control within our relationship. Would you care to expand on that, Barry?"
Dr. Holt looked remarkably calm considering his position. He was scared, it would be impossible not to be, but he wasn't crying, he wasn't struggling, he wasn't trying to beg.
"Not really. That was a private session."
Harrison reached up to untie the gag, dropping it in the doctor's lap before he moved to sit next to Barry, draping an arm over his shoulders casual. "Consider this couple's therapy. Dr. Holt, if you would?"
Dr. Holt cleared his throat, his voice hoarse, but he didn't complain or ask for water. "Barry doesn't exercise overt power in his relationship with you, neither socially nor sexually."
Harrison's fingers threaded through the hair at the back of Barry's neck, stroking and tugging just enough to send little shocks down Barry's spine. "Interesting. Overt power. That implies there are other forms of power he does exercise. Barry?"
"I'm aware of my place, Harrison." The hand tugged his hair harder, just short of painful, which was actually really disappointing.
"I'm not entirely convinced of that, but let's assume you are. If you're so aware of your place, as you put it, why have I caught you repeatedly flirting with Candy down in filing?"
Barry raised his eyebrows. He knew Harrison had noticed, he'd made sure of that, but to bring it up now? "Her name is Cindy and I like her."
"You like her?"
"Is that so hard to believe?"
"I know you, Barry. I've known you your entire life. You're attracted to people with intelligence and common sense, neither of which Candy possesses."
"Cindy, her name is Cindy, and fine, I'm not interested in her." He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring. "I'm just giving you another target."
"Another target? Who would be the other one?"
"Rob? Captain Singh's fiancé. He's nice. He listens to me and gives me advice when I ask for it. He doesn't care that I'm not the same person, 'cause he barely knew me before anyway and he makes these lemon tarts that I would kill for."
"Apparently." Barry frowned at the addition, realizing the implications of what he'd said. He hadn't meant it that way, but now that Harrison said it… "Barry, I'm not going to kill Rob."
When Barry didn't respond, he continued, fingers still scraping rhythmically against the back of his neck. "Despite what you may think, I do in fact like Captain Singh. He's a very reasonable and easily manipulated man. However, he would never believe that Rob left him of his own volition and if his fiancé were to disappear, he would spare no efforts in finding the killer. I have no interest in becoming the focus of yet another vendetta, Barry. I have my hands full with you."
Barry flushed a little at the praise and at the hand that Harrison dropped a little lower to encircle the back of his neck.
"Removing Joe and Henry from your life was not a calculated move on my part. I would rather not remove yet another father figure if I can help it."
It sounded genuine, or, as genuine as Harrison ever sounded. "You mean it? You aren't going to kill Rob or Captain Singh?"
"As long as they don't interfere. In fact, I was considering coming with you to their place for dinner tomorrow night."
"But… you've never come with me. You said you'd rather tie me down and rip my toe nails out than accompany me to a family dinner at the Singh household." Which, of all the things Harrison could do to him when he was tied down, was by far Barry's least favorite.
The hand squeezed affectionately. "I can suffer one evening."
"Without killing anyone?"
"I believe I've already said that."
"Oh, forgive me for wanting to make sure my homicidal boyfriend isn't intending on going on another killing spree. It wouldn't be the first or even the se…"
Harrison pulled him forward by the grip on his neck, kissing him soundly and Barry melted into it. When they separated, Barry couldn't keep the smile off his face. Until his little slip up two months ago, it hadn't occurred to him exactly how much Rob and Captain Singh meant to him. Every time he'd been over for dinner since then, there had been a fist lodged in his chest at the idea of Harrison taking one or both of them.
Now, not only had Harrison added Rob and Captain Singh to the no-kill list, but he was also going to dinner.
Harrison kissed Barry's forehead before moving to stand behind Dr. Holt again. Really, Barry had to hand it to the doctor, because despite the fact he was sweating profusely and his chest was popping up and down in a way that clearly indicated his distress, he still looked remarkably composed.
Harrison nodded to the door. "Barry, please let Detective Thawne in."
[]
When Barry opened the door after only fifteen minutes, he didn't look upset. He was relaxed, smiling, leaning into the doorway as he asked Eddie to come in. That alone told Eddie something was wrong, because Barry didn't want to be there, they'd established that on day one, and he'd never pretended otherwise. It didn't look like he was pretending now, either, though, and that was unnerving.
All that aside, he still didn't expect Dr. Wells to be standing in the room when he entered. One hand automatically reached for his gun before he could stop himself. His fingers closing around where the hilt should have been, but Wells hadn't moved. He was still standing with one hand resting on Dr. Holt's shoulder, the other toying with the doctor's silver and grey pen. It was Barry who dropped on the couch, holding Eddie's gun in distaste.
He flicked the safety on and held it up. "Not cool, Eddie. That's my boyfriend. I wouldn't shoot at your boyfriend."
"Your boyfriend has your psychiatrist tied to a chair. A position I am uncomfortable familiar with."
Barry opened his mouth, stopped and closed it, nodding wordlessly.
Eddie caught Dr. Holt's eyes, but the man didn't make any move, probably terrified with Dr. Wells standing that close – a feeling that Eddie could very much relate to. "What do you want, Wells?"
"I'm disappointed." Wells let go of Dr. Holt's shoulder, slowly walking across the room to stand in front of Eddie, one hand in the pocket of his jacket casually, even if Eddie knew there was nothing casual in what was going on. "You see, Eddie, I thought I made myself very clear when I said not to enlist outside assistance in trying to fruitlessly convince Barry to leave me and, yet, here we are."
Barry tisked from the couch, finger wagging, but he stopped at Well's reproachful glare, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt your evil monologue."
"As I was saying, I'm disappointed in you. I'd say I thought you were smarter than that, but then I'd be lying. Luckily, for you, regular counseling is a condition for Barry's continued employment with the CCPD and I happen to think Dr. Holt here is a vast improvement to the grief counselor the department assigned him. Unfortunately, for Dr. Holt, I can't let this go unchallenged."
"What…" Eddie looked from Dr. Holt, who hadn't moved or said anything; to Barry, who was watching Wells with rapt attention; then back at Dr. Wells, who was staring down at him. "I don't understand. What does that mean?"
"It means that Dr. Holt will continue to see Barry, in an official capacity from here on out, reporting back to the CCPD as required. I'm going to trust that he understands what it means when I tell him to use discretion in those reports." He turned to Dr. Holt, who nodded once, before giving his attention back to Eddie. "However, you, Detective Thawne, need a reminder that insubordination won't always end well. Not for you and not for the people you bring into this."
Eddie had only a moment to register that Wells had moved, before the doctor screamed and Eddie barely managed to stop from doing the same. The pen he'd forgotten Wells had was lodged in Dr. Holt's hand, pinning it to the chair he was sitting in. The doctor choked off his own scream, but his face was ash white as the pen was ripped out and Wells walked back over the few steps between them so slowly it was painful.
He held the pen out to Eddie. "Take it."
Eddie wasn't sure if the lack of tremor in his hand was bravery or shock.
"Barry pushes me because he enjoys the results. You won't. Don't try my patience again, Detective Thawne. Barry, we have reservations."
He walked out and Barry started to follow, but stopped just inside the door. "Hey, sorry about that, he can be a little…"
"Barry!"
"It wouldn't kill you to be polite!"
"No, but it might kill him."
Barry's annoyance melted into laughter as he followed Dr. Wells out. "Where are we going? It better not be one of those fancy restaurants. Their portions are always too small."
"You'll survive."
"Oh! If it's the place with the chocolate soufflé things I will blow you in my lab after."
The door to the front of the office shut with a click and it still took Eddie a few seconds to move. He dropped the bloodied pen to the ground, wiping his hand on his pants without thinking. Dr. Holt's voice dragged him out of his stunned thoughts. "Detective?"
"Doctor!" Eddie rushed forward, eyeing the wound as he worked the knots, trying not to jar the hand. "I'm so sorry, I should never have…"
"Relax, Detective Thawne."
Eddie's laugh was strained – relaxing was the last thing he was going to do anytime soon – but Dr. Holt gave him a sympathetic smile, wrapping his tie around the hand to staunch the bleeding.
"You don't have to keep seeing Barry. That… I'll talk to Wells and…"
"There's no need for that." Dr. Holt moved to his desk and opened the drawer, pulling out his cell phone and keys. "I would, however, appreciate help getting to the nearest clinic."
"How can you be so calm?"
"You sought me out for my experience working with violent criminals. That was not the first, nor will it be the last time I'm assaulted by a patient or an angry family member. That wasn't even the first time I've been stabbed with a writing utensil." Dr. Holt handed the keys to Eddie to lock the door behind them. "In fact, I'd say that was a rather productive session, all things considered."
"It was?"
"Oh, yes. Half an hour alone with Harrison Wells was more than enough time to confirm he is, in fact, a sociopath. I suspected as much, but it's always good to have first hand knowledge. He's also very arrogant."
"Arrogant?"
"He thinks he has Barry under his control."
"And you don't?"
"I think Barry is a very emotionally and mentally unstable young man and I suspect that Dr. Wells has about as much control as Barry lets him have. Speaking of which, does there happen to be a file clerk at the CCPD by the name of Cindy?"
Eddie thought for a second. "Uh, maybe? Young, bubbly personality, pretty, not the smartest clerk we have, but she knows her alphabet."
Dr. Holt nodded. "That would be her. I would strongly suggest she transfer to another city. Immediately."
"Wait." Eddie stopped trying to hail a taxi and stepped away from the curb, pulling Dr. Holt along with a guiding arm on his shoulder. "You think Barry would hurt her?"
"No, of course not." Dr. Holt pressed harder into the open wound, his face pinching in pain. "I need more time to make a full assessment, but as of right now, I don't think Barry's a direct threat to anyone other than himself and, potentially, Dr. Wells. That being said, he has a very select group of people he wants to keep safe and anyone outside of that is collateral damage. This Cindy, she's collateral."
But that couldn't… That was insane, that was… Barry. And Eddie couldn't help remembering what Wells had said the last time he'd threatened Eddie, about Barry doing anything to keep the people he cared about safe.
"I also have a gaping hole in my hand that needs medical attention and several patients I have to cancel on."
Eddie shook his head to clear it. "Right, sorry."
It only took a minute to hail the cab and while Dr. Holt made his calls, politely explaining that a medical emergency was forcing him to reschedule, Eddie wondered how much collateral damage there had been so far.
