A/N: Thanks for the reviews. They are why there is a chapter two already!

Chapter 2

Henry Allen missed his son. He had, after all, been incarcerated for over a dozen years of Barry's life. It hadn't been easy leaving him so soon after getting out of prison, but Henry knew he couldn't stay. Barry wouldn't have been able to continue his work as the Flash while trying to accommodate fitting his father back into his life.

Barry was too kind a soul to let Henry work his way back into society on his own. He had immediately offered to uproot himself to come to his father's aid – and Henry knew that a shared apartment would have only been the beginning of it. Barry would have had no time to be the Flash.

Still, he wished he could be there for his son like Joe could be.

He fiddled with the laptop on his knees, scrolling through Iris' blog. He was glad she kept it up, since it was the easiest way for him to see what Barry was up to in Central City. When he'd scrutinized all the posts, he opened a new browser window and keyed in the web address for Central City Picture News.

For the second time in his life – Henry Allen felt like someone had stabbed him in the heart.

"IS THE FLASH DEAD?"

The headline stretched across the top of the screen over a picture of a black-clad figure, shrouded in blue bolts of electricity. The creature's hideous face was unreadable. But the figure he held at his side was the only thing Henry could see once his eyes fell on it.

Barry.

His son was hanging limply in the creature's hand – as if he weighed nothing to the one holding him by the neck and shoulder.

Henry didn't even bother to read the story. He slapped the laptop shut and looked at his cell phone. It hadn't rung. If Barry was dead, the phone would have rang. Joe would have called him. So that meant Barry was alive, despite how he appeared in that photo.

Still, Henry was itching to dial the number he knew by heart. To hear his son's voice. To ask if he was all right. To ask what had happened. But he couldn't. He had discussed this with Joe – it was best if he let Barry be the Flash with no distractions.

The sick feeling didn't go away. He kept the phone closer than usual.

Iris could almost feel the pain in Barry's voice. He wasn't kidding when he said Zoom had destroyed him. The Barry she knew and loved had been replaced by a shell of her friend – struggling to walk without cringing in pain. Paralyzed by the feeling he had failed his city.

She had to do something.

So she dialed.

"Henry? It's me, Iris."

The other end of the line was silent for a moment, then: "Iris. How is he? Is he all right?"

Iris hastily assured Dr. Allen that Barry was on the mend. "But he's not, strictly speaking, all right," she said. "How much do you know about what happened?"

When he said he hadn't read the news, and only knew Barry had been injured by a strange black speedster, she drew in a deep breath and launched into an explanation of who the creature was, what he wanted, and the extent of Barry's injuries.

She heard Dr. Allen suck in a sharp breath when she told him Zoom had broken Barry's back and he had only just begun regaining the ability to feel his legs. "Caitlin says he is healing really well, considering the injuries," she said. "But it's not his body I'm worried about, Henry, it's his mind. He's crushed. I've never seen him like this. And nothing I say, or Dad says, or anyone – nothing is pulling him out of it. I think he needs you."

Henry gripped the phone harder in his hand. "I'm on my way."

Barry could feel the lightning at his back. But it was feeble. Like he felt. Weak and defeated. Sluggish. He reached out with his left hand to lower the speed of the treadmill slowly, his strides shortening and eventually stopping.

He was out of breath. Again. Leaning forward, he drew in gulps of air and tried to relax his back muscles to relieve the tension and the pain it was causing. He knew he was nearly healed. So why did he still hurt so much?

"Keep that chin down, slugger."

Barry's eyes snapped to the side at the voice.

"Dad."

With more energy than he had felt in days, Barry descended from the treadmill and melted into his father's embrace. He could feel the tension seep out of him in his father's arms and he met Iris' gaze through the glass partition. She knew him so well.

With a smile and a small nod, he tried to convey how much he appreciated her reaching out to his father. And Barry knew it had been Iris. If she couldn't help him, she wouldn't stop until she found someone who could.

Henry drew back and held his son at arm's length, looking at him from head to toe.

Barry was silent, waiting.

"You look good, Barry," the older man said, not letting Barry go completely as he steered him to the nearest set of seats. "When I saw the Central City Picture News headline I just about had a heart attack. But I knew Joe and Iris would have called if you had … if you … God Barry."

The younger man reached out a hand and put it on his father's knee. "I'm OK, Dad," he said. "The newspaper blew it out of proportion."

His father frowned at him. "Of course it did. But seeing you like that, I feared the worst for a heart-stopping second."

"I'm sorry," Barry murmured, pulling his eyes from his father's and casting them down to the hand in his lap. "I didn't mean to worry you. I'm sorry you had to see that."

Henry reached out and grasped the hand on his knee. "I'm sorry you had to go through it."

The elder Allen waited until Barry looked up before continuing. "Tell me what happened, son."

Only hesitating for a moment, Barry launched shakily into the story. He held nothing back. He told his father about all the metahumans that Zoom had been sending to kill him. About all the battles. About the plan to try to trick Zoom.

And about his confrontation with the other speedster.

"It was so hard, Dad," he whispered. "After that shot to the back – I couldn't do anything. I was just limp and he dragged me along wherever he wanted to go. I felt so useless."

Henry gripped Barry's hand tighter – almost on the verge of painfully tight. But he kept his composure. "I can't imagine what that must have felt like, Barry," he said slowly. "I am so proud of you being the Flash – saving people every day. I just wish it wasn't such a dangerous job."

He patted Barry's leg suddenly. "Come on, up you get," he said. "I want to see for myself how you're healing."

Barry hesitated, then grabbed the cane he had been using and leaned slightly on it as he led his father out of the room and into another. Up on a light board was the before and after images from his MRIs.

As his father studied them, Barry studied his father. He looked good. Happy. If only Barry hadn't been so easily defeated, his father could have remained wherever he had been – doing whatever had made him look so relaxed.

But no – Barry had to go and get his ass handed to him by Zoom.

He zoned out most of what his father said, until he said, "I'd give you some physical therapy … but … you don't need it!"

Realizing he probably should be responding, Barry sighed. "I'm glad you're here, Dad."

And he was. It felt good to catch up with his father. To hear about his time camping and eating his fill of fish. That had been a bit of a surprise! And as the older man told his story, Barry was aware that his father was simultaneously trying to tell him it was OK to slow down and gather himself, but he wasn't quite ready to accept that. He wanted to be well now. To get back in the game and start saving his city again.

When Cisco burst in that they had found Caitlin and Grodd – it gave Barry the chance to push aside his feelings and fears once more and focus on the mission.

As he followed his son from the room, Henry Allen wasn't fooled.

Barry still needed to deal with his feelings of inadequacy. Of failure. Of the city not believing in the Flash. This conversation wasn't over.

A/N: Well a few reviews on Fanfiction got me to write this up tonight. I do love reviews! I might have a few more chapters in this story. I like Henry Allen getting to see his son in action…