WARNING: self harm
He healed fast. He healed so fast. It shouldn't have been a problem. It shouldn't have been a problem at all.
At first, Barry ignored it. He told himself it was just a bruise under his skin. He kept telling himself until the little red lines started trailing from it, until his skin was red and hot to the touch, until it hurt all the time.
Barry had been cutting again.
He told himself it was just to get by. He was doing well in his sessions with Caitlin. He could get through almost anything she had him do if he could cut afterwards. Iris anticipated it. She called him up as soon as he got out of Star Labs, talked with him for half the night. She did the same thing the next night. But he healed. He wore short sleeves. She didn't see anything. She knew he could hide it elsewhere, but she was starting to relax. Barry appeared to be doing fine.
Until the cut got infected.
He didn't even know how it happened, how it could have happened. He didn't even remember what he had used, because it showed up afterwards, a grey green splotch under his skin, then a burning, and then the red lines and the constant pain. Was it the pencil sharpener, the razor? What did he use that was contaminated? He hadn't been careful enough. He was too used to healing fast, too used to being able to deal with the consequences of anything he did. He hadn't thought about it.
And now there was a red green mass under his arm and he didn't know what to do. He was afraid to go to a local clinic but he couldn't go to Caitlin, so he did nothing and the mark got worse. He found he couldn't move his pinky exactly right. It was blocking off blood flow or intercepting nerves or something. He needed to tell Caitlin.
He tried to come up with a plausible excuse. Maybe he should just say that he didn't know how it happened. Except for the red line on top of it that had appeared afterwards. That looked exactly like a cut.
He didn't know what to do.
Because the truth was when he got home from Star labs that day he went straight into his bathroom for the razor. He didn't stop to call Iris, didn't stop to look at Caitlin's box, didn't stop at all. She would be mad. She would be disappointed. But most of all, she'd make him stop.
He couldn't stop.
It was getting into a habit again. He knew it, but he didn't know how to stop it. He didn't have Joe checking in on him every day anymore, didn't have anyone watching him, and there was nothing to stop him now that he was healing. It was working its way back to full blown addiction and he didn't know how to handle that. So he ignored it.
He saw Caitlin. He let her prick him with shots. He went home. He cut. He went to work. Couldn't focus. Got stressed. He cut. He got hurt? Cut. Had a panic attack? Cut. It was easy, simple, effective. Just enough to settle down, that's all he did. He healed, so it was fine. Like taking medicine. He wasn't going to die from it. It didn't leave scars. He wouldn't hurt himself badly, so why the hell not?
Well, except for the green-red Christmas decoration that was his arm at the moment. Except for that. The constant stinging, aching. Barry closed his eyes.
He was at a crime scene, another crime scene, and he was jumpy this time, looking everywhere before focusing on the actual clues around him. He was hoping no one noticed but it was clear from a couple of looks he got that he wasn't being as discrete as he would have liked. He had a sling around his arm to make it look more believable, but the official report was that the bullet just skimmed his arm and he'd be fine in a couple weeks. Eddie kept giving him funny looks for that. He had seen the wounds, but Joe had told him it wasn't as bad as it looked.
They still hadn't identified the shooter who attacked them, which meant he was still out there. The fact didn't really scare Barry – it was probably a completely random attack – but he couldn't believe he'd let it hit him like that. He had been totally unprepared.
Barry knelt to examine the evidence. It was just a robbery, but there was blood on ground, and shoe prints. No one had been injured that they knew of, so the blood was probably the thief's. They were already sending samples to analyze. Barry was more concerned with the pattern of the drops and how it correlated to the placement of footprints.
"… got run over by a truck and then shot in the shoulder – kid can't catch a break."
Barry tensed. He slowly stood up and then turned around to a couple of officers behind him.
"Is there something you wanted to say to me?" The words come out harder than he meant, or no maybe he meant them to be that hard, because he's sick of people talking about him and he's sick of the pity looks and he's sick of the damn officers who treat him like he's twelve. The look on their faces was shocked and silent.
"I didn't mean –" the one who had spoken started.
"Forget it," Barry said. He walked away before he said something he'd really regret, shaking out his hand and wishing he could get his arm out of the damn sling that he doesn't need anyway. He wants it gone, the reminder of what happened, of his shoulder and the needles and the bullets and just a prick.
there's more than one
hold still
that's it
this is going to hurt
get the restraints
It was cycling through his mind again in a moment. Barry clenched his hands, walked quickly out of the crime scene and kept walking.
"Hey, Allen, where you going," someone yelled.
"Getting a drink," he said. How he wished he could get one, and not water.
"I'll come too," another person said, and then Eddie was next to him and Barry did not have time for this.
"Hey, what's wrong?" Eddie asked. He had to walk fast just to keep up with him, Barry was practically running away.
"Nothing. I'm fine," Barry said.
"You don't look fine."
"I'm fine."
"Was it the crime scene?"
"It wasn't anything."
"Have you seen the office shrink yet? I had to go when I got shot. It's not that bad, and –"
"I don't have to go."
"You don't? Why not?"
"I have a private therapist."
"Oh," Eddie said, somewhat surprised.
"At least, that's what's on my file."
Eddie frowned at him.
"I haven't actually gone in about five years."
The frown deepened. "You know, normally I'd say –"
Barry stopped abruptly. "You'd say screw the shrink, but I'm actually messed up, so you're thinking I should go, right? I'm working on it OK – just not with a shrink."
"Well – I mean, that's good."
"No, it's not," Barry said, walking again. He kept clenching and unclenching his hands. It was like half his brain wanted to go have a panic attack and the other half wanted to go get in a fight.
"Maybe you should go home, Barry, take a day off," Eddie said.
"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Barry said, "It's like you all think I magically get better once I'm inside four walls. Well, newsflash, I don't."
"Alright, maybe you should go to the park," Eddie said.
Barry looked over at him.
"I'm just throwing out suggestions."
No, Barry knew what he needed, he needed a razor blade, and he needed one now. As soon as he thought it that itch started up again, just under his skin, boiling away at him. He needed an edge on his skin, needed something to stop the pounding in his head and that tension that seemed to be in his blood, not his muscles. He clenched his hands, dug his nails into his palms.
"Barry," Eddie said, his voice taking on a completely different tone.
"What?" he snapped.
"You're doing that thing."
"What thing?"
"That thing where you look at nothing, and I can practically see –"
"I'm fine."
"You're thinking about it, aren't you?"
Barry shot him a glance.
Eddie raised his eyebrows. "Tell me you're not, then."
Barry didn't say anything.
"Do you need anything?" Eddie asked.
"I need you to leave me alone," Barry said. He felt bad as soon as he said it. It was harsh. Eddie was trying to help.
Fortunately for him, Eddie didn't appear to be affected. "Yeah, there's this little bit where Iris would kill me if I did that, so I'm going to go with a no on that one."
"You don't need to babysit me for Iris," Barry snapped again.
Eddie frowned at him. "I'm not Barry, I was joking. I don't want you to get hurt."
And Barry felt bad. Again.
"I know. Sorry," he said.
"You want to tell me what's really going on?" Eddie asked.
They were in front of an empty street and Barry's fingers went through his hair and he stopped walking and it burst out of his mouth before he could say anything.
"I need to go to Star Labs," he said.
Eddie frowned. "For your shoulder?"
"No."
"A check – up?"
"No."
There was a pause. "Oh," Eddie said, realization flashing across his face. "Oh, shit Barry, is it bad?"
Barry was trembling. "I don't know what to do," he said.
"OK," Eddie said, putting a hand around his good shoulder, "Alright, well, why don't we take a walk, and we'll go down. It's not far from here."
And Barry started to follow him because he didn't know what else to do and because even now, the cut hurt and it was going to get worse, and he knew it was going to get worse, and maybe he could just convince them it was a stupid accident or a onetime thing and maybe it could just be over with and he would never use anything remotely unclean again.
"Can I see it?" Eddie asked.
Barry rolled up his sleeve. The mark was there on his wrist, ugly and red and raw and damning.
"Shit," Eddie said. He looked up at him again. "Barry," he said, "that's not good. That's serious. If something like this happens you need to tell someone before it gets bad."
"I – I know," Barry said, "I just – I didn't know what to do. I didn't… I didn't want them to know."
And maybe that's why he told Eddie, because it was easier. Because he didn't want to see the disappointment and the guilt and the fear that he knew he would see with Joe and Iris and Caitlin. Because Eddie just reacted. Access the damage. Get to Star Labs. Fix it. And worry about everything else afterwards.
"Alright," Eddie said, "but you could have saved yourself a lot of pain. They were going to find out eventually."
And he's right, but Barry still doesn't want to admit it. Yes, he should have gone as soon as he saw it was infected, but he was scared, and he kind of just thought maybe if he ignored it, it would just go away.
Which was dumb. And illogical. But he had done it anyway.
They didn't take a cab, although it was a bit of a hike there. They walked instead, because Barry was just following Eddie and Eddie was pretty sure taking a walk and getting some energy out would be better than putting Barry inside a confined space to brood.
When they got there Caitlin was working on a laptop, Wells was nowhere to be found and Cisco was playing with what looked like a toy helicopter, but knowing him was probably equipped with bullets and lasers or something.
Needless to say they were quite surprised when Eddie walked in alongside Barry.
"Um, hello," Caitlin said, looking from the officer to Barry and back again.
Eddie looked at Barry. You want to tell them?
Barry looked at the ground. Eddie sighed. They walked up to Caitlin and Eddie gestured at Barry's arm and Barry held it up and Eddie rolled down the sleeve and showed Caitlin.
Caitlin's eyes went very wide very fast.
"OK, then, let me get a bed ready," she said, taking in a long breath. She was off, and then Cisco was looking strangely at her, and then he caught a glimpse at Barry's arm and Caitlin must have told him because he did not look nearly as surprised as he should have.
"Gonna get supplies," Cisco said. Eddie and Barry followed them both into another room, the medical one, and Barry sat down on the bed Caitlin had, looking absolutely miserable and Eddie stood to the side because he wasn't sure if Barry would rather he stay or leave.
"Can you call Iris?" he asked.
There was a crumpling feeling in Eddie's gut as he heard him say that, the absolute misery in his voice.
"Yeah, sure, Barry," he said, "You want me to stay, or…?"
"You can go," he said, "Tell them I got sick or I had an appointment or – actually you know what, I really don't care what you tell them."
"Alright," Eddie said, "I'll call her. You want me to call Joe too?"
Barry's stomach flipped. "No, I'll talk to him later."
"Alright," Eddie said, "I'll see you later then."
"Bye," Barry said, "And, uh, thanks."
"No problem." Eddie said. He walked out, wondering how he was going to explain this to his girlfriend.
Alright, sorry, but I like Eddie, and Barry needs a friend. Sorry this one took so long - figuring out where I'm going with it - thanks for reading :)