TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of self harm, minor (very minor) drug abuse

Barry dragged his fingers through his hair.

"I can't, Iris."

"Don't you dare hang up on me."

"I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"No, you will talk to me right now, Barry Allen."

Barry banged his head on the desk. He brought the phone back to his ear. "I just can't really talk right now." His palm was damp on his forehead. He had a pounding headache. "I want to go to bed, Iris."

"What's the procedure?"

"Nothing – look, I don't want to talk about it."

"Barry –"

"My arm's screwed up. From the accident."

There was a long pause.

"Do you need surgery?" Iris asked slowly.

Barry swallowed.

"They don't know."

"I'm at home right now," Iris said, "Do you want to come over?"

"No, Iris, I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine."

Barry felt like screaming in frustration.

"Yeah, well I am, OK. I'm fine and I want to go to bed. Goodnight Iris."

"Bar-"

Barry hung up the phone.

He stared at the glass screen in his hands. He hadn't hung up like that on Iris since their last big fight, months ago. He turned the phone over in his hands. Maybe he should call her back, say yeah, actually he really wanted to come over, because yeah it might be nice to talk to someone about how freaking insane he was going just sitting there in his apartment alone and with an appointment for them to do God knows what to him the next day at Star Labs. And yeah, it would be really nice to be able to mention how they didn't have a real anesthetic that would work on him and how they couldn't knock him out and how he couldn't rotate his shoulder all the way and he was still getting sharp pains every time he extended it the wrong way.

Barry fell back into bed. He buried his head under the blankets, slowed his breathing, stilled his body. His mind wouldn't stop though. All he could think of were those hands on him and Caitlin's voice this is going to hurt, Barry. The restraints, first the doctors then Joe and Cisco, absolutely helpless.

Completely helpless.

Barry pushed his face into the mattress. Goosebumps popped up over his arms. He sat up, reached over, and grabbed the bottle of Nyquil from the bedside table. He tipped it back and drained what was left of the bottle – he wasn't really sure what was needed to knock him out now – he usually just drank as much of the stuff as he could stand the taste for. The effects worked quicker for him. Not quick enough.

The pain in his arm was a dull ache now. He could see the doctors.

Why isn't he out?

Drug addict.

Medical history?

We've gotta set the leg.

Sharp pain, a crack, and his scream. Useless leg. He tried to run.

Barry laughed, almost laughed. The one thing this power had given him, the ability to run, to help people. Rendered helpless again.

Sleep was pulling at the edges of his mind, pulling at the threads. Caitlin with the needles, Cisco holding his arm. It'll help. It didn't. Not enough. Hit by a truck, what a stupid, stupid thing to happen. He should have been dead. Instead he had a messed up shoulder and a scar on the side of his head that might fade but might not. They had tried to put stitches in.

Curved needles, string. A local anesthetic.

No.

Barry had screamed, lost it. They pumped sedatives into his blood that made him dizzy then faded back to nothing.

Panic disorder.

Brain damage.

Get him sedated, damnit!

Barry closed his eyes. The Nyquil was kicking in.

LLLLLLLLLLLIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Barry showed up the next day at Star Labs late, very late. He'd called in sick to the station, hadn't told Joe about the appointment, ignored his calls from Iris, and slept and watched TV for most of the morning. When he finally walked through the doors he was wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt and looked like half looked like he had the flu.

"We just want to take some X-rays Barry," Caitlin said.

X-rays turned out to be X-rays, MRI's, and some poking and prodding. It was not altogether horrible. Barry's shoulder hurt. He had ignored it the first few days, then Caitlin caught him wincing, and it all went downhill from there.

"Good news or bad news?" Caitlin asked when she came back after getting all the results.

Barry sighed. "How about good news first."

"The bone healed perfectly," she said brightly, with a smile.

"Bad news?"

"The tendons did not."

"What does that mean?" he asked slowly.

"Well…" Caitlin said. Wells came over, giving Barry a reassuring smile. "It means we have to do some work on it."

Barry didn't move. "How much?"

"Not a ton," Caitlin said, "I should be able to fix it myself – and it won't take long to heal at all once everything's in place."

"You've got to cut me open first though," Barry said, hollowly.

"It would be a very, very small incision," Caitlin said, "A couple of adjustments, that's all."

Barry put his head in his hands. "How?"

"Well," Caitlin said. She put her hand tentatively on Barry's shoulder. "We'd give you a lot of sedative."

"But I'll still be awake."

"Yes, but, enough that you shouldn't feel much."

"Much?"

"Well –"

"You can't block it all."

"No."

"Are you going to strap me down?" Barry asked, suddenly jerking his head back up.

"Well, to stabilize –"

"Are you going to put an IV in or just shots?" Barry stood up, his fingers in his hair, staring at the ground.

"Barry –"

"How long will it take – how long while I'm – restraints right? The same as last time?" He was shaking.

"Barry, we don't have to do –"

"What will you be cutting through? Which – what types of adjustments are you making?"

"It's just a couple –"

Barry was pacing. "When? Tomorrow? Not today, right? Today? Not today."

"We don't have to do it today," Caitlin said quickly.

"Tomorrow," Barry mumbled. He couldn't breathe.

"Barry, you have to calm down for me," Caitlin said, walking up to him.

"Surgery," Barry mumbled.

This is going to hurt, Barry.

On three.

Why isn't he out?

Please, try to calm down sir.

Get the restraints.

Barry shuddered.

"Think of it as a procedure," Caitlin said, "A small procedure."

Barry started walking out of the room.

"Barry? Barry, where are you going."

Barry kept walking, not running, just walking out. He followed the hallway to the elevator, pressed the button. It beeped.

Caitlin caught up to him there, her heels clicking on the tile.

"Barry, wait, talk to me."

Barry shook his head.

"Barry?"

"I don't have anything to say."

He didn't. What did he say? He looked down. His hands were shaking, he couldn't breathe, and his mind was blank, numb. What did he do? There wasn't anything to do. Surgery. Shots. IV's. Cutting. Tendons. Muscles. It was flashing in a horror skewed slideshow, a sort of kaleidoscope in front of his eyes. He couldn't think.

When he stepped into the elevator Caitlin followed him, but she didn't think he noticed, his eyes glazed over, staring at the ground.

"Barry," she took his arm, "It'll be alright."

"No it won't," he said. His voice was hollow, blank, his eyes still staring at the ground. "You say that to make me feel better, but it's never alright. It's just as bad every time."

"No, Barry, it's true. Afterwards you'll still be you, you'll be alive and OK, I promise."

Barry shook his head. He smiled and looked up. There were tears in the corners of his eyes, the whites going an irritated red and his face starting to puff up already.

"You don't get it, Caitlin. I'm not OK. I'm never OK afterwards. You tell me every time that it'll be alright, but it never is. I'm never alright. The word doesn't even mean anything anymore."

And then it broke and every image that could possibly cause pain or panic flashed in front of Barry's eyes and he was crying, his hands over his face, suddenly very, very not numb.

"You'll strap me down and I'm helpless, Caitlin, I have absolutely no control," he said his voice cracking, escalating, "And it'll hurt and I should be used to that but I can't do it – I can't do it when I don't have control about it when I can't even try and get away and it's just coming and I know it and I just keep seeing the needles under my skin everywhere I look and I can't sleep and I can't cut and I need to cut because then it's me – it's like I can convince myself it'll be alright, I can be hurt and alright I can get cut open and be alright because if I can hurt myself then I shouldn't be afraid of getting hurt but when I'm strapped down and it's the needles then I still am. I shouldn't be but I am."

Caitlin had her arms around Barry in the elevator and his head was over her shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut and his face wet and he couldn't breathe but he didn't want to ever move.

"It's OK," she said. Her hand moved in circles over his back. "It's OK, Barry, shhhh."

And Barry wanted to scream but instead he curled his fingers into a fist behind her back, his chin on her sweater, which was soft and probably wet and he couldn't get his mouth open, couldn't get words to form on his tongue so he didn't say anything and blocked out everything.

"You're alright," Caitlin said, "No one's hurting you. We'll work it out. It's OK."

It's not, it's not, it's not. Barry couldn't let go. There was a huge knot in his throat, his heart hammering way too fast, and he was so scared, so terribly horribly scared that she would let go and leave him alone with his mind. He was slipping dangerously, going backwards into that space that he couldn't deal with, couldn't get through on his own.

"Don't leave," he said.

"I won't."

The elevator doors had opened and closed again and they were still in there.

Caitlin's hand slipped up onto his shoulder and her thumb went in circles on the back of his neck, just above his caller. She spoke soft and steady.

"I'm going to work with Cisco," she said, "And we'll figure out the best way to do this."

Barry shuddered.

"And you're going to be OK," she said, "You're going to be OK the whole time and even afterwards. I'm going to make sure of it. I promise." She paused. "And you're not going to cut, because you don't need to hurt yourself to prove anything. It's OK to be scared. I won't lie to you. The procedure will hurt. It won't hurt a lot. You don't need to hurt yourself too. Pain is pain, no matter who controls it."

If only, Barry thought. He squeezed tighter.

"I'll tell you everything I do before I do it," she said, "And we might need to strap down your arm to keep it stable, but I won't do any other restraints unless absolutely necessary."

Barry closed his eyes.

"We'll go as slow as you need to and you can tell me if you need to stop and take a break. We'll get you a nice pillow and some blankets, and we can section off your arm so you can't see it if you want. Joe can come too if you want him to.

"We could try getting a TV going, something to distract you. It'll be IV and shots. You shouldn't even feel the shots after I get an IV in. I know you don't like it, and that will suck, but we'll take it nice and slow. I've got a new drug that might help relax you. It's kind of like valium, and I don't know how well it'll work, but we can try it."

"Thank you."

"It'll be OK, Barry."

Barry just closed his eyes again.

Sooo, if you can't tell i can't really make up my mind between Westallen and Snowbarry - think i might just torture you all with hinting at both :) I lean westallen but i like both - right now Barry just really needs friends though. Anyway, surgery up next plus more barry struggling with keeping clean - going to talk a little more about that time when he was fourteen and his cutting then, but I'm thinking about maybe writing a preclude to this fic? Just a short thing with a couple chapters on that time, mostly for fun. What do you guys think? I don't really like doing flashbacks but i want a little more extensive background - i'll definitely incorporate some of it into this fic, but i might want to go a little more in detail, and i don't think that much detail is really relevant to this fic itself (i've got a tendency to overwrite backgrounds and prologues in my own writing). Tell me what you think - i really appreciate it :)