OK so it's been a while but this one is REALLY LONG like two chapters worth (I've been really busy and i didn't realize that i had already wrote that much) Anyway, hope you like it :)

Felicity woke up to a shrill ringing, which she belatedly recognized as her cell phone. She groped around on the table beside her bed until her fingers curled around it.

"Hello?"

"Felicity?"

Felicity sat up, flicked the light on next to her. She looked at the screen and her suspicions were confirmed.

"Yeah, it's me, Barry."

"I, uh… did I wake you up? I'm sorry, I just – I know it's late, it's really late, sorry, what time is it – oh, oh, shit, sorry, I didn't – I went to bed early I thought it was like eleven, I didn't realize it was this late, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called, oh god, I woke you up didn't I – I'll just go back to bed, sorry Felicity I'll see you –"

"Barry, what's wrong?"

There was a pause. "I… I um…"

"Yeah?"

"I – it's dumb, it's really… I just, um, had a nightmare, and I was – it's stupid, really, I'll just go, sorry for wak-"

"What was the nightmare about? Are you OK now?"

"Um," and she could hear his voice shaking. She was already getting off the bed. "It was… dark and um, fire – actually, I really don't want to talk about it, I really, really don't want to talk about it."

"I'm coming over."

"… OK. It's – you know the address?"

"Yeah," she said, and the fact that he hadn't fought her on the subject of her coming over was already worrying her.

"OK, but, could you… stay on the phone with me? Please?"

"Yeah," she said, pulling on jeans and a shirt, "Of course."

"OK," he said, and she could hear the relief in his voice.

"What are you doing right now?" she asked.

"Um, I'm still in bed."

"Why don't you get up and get yourself a blanket and maybe something to drink?"

"OK."

"Nothing hurts, does it?"

"No," he said, "but I'm – I'm afraid it will start again."

"It's not going to," she said, "keep yourself calm. Deep breaths. I'll be there soon. Remember what Caitlin told you."

"Yeah," he said. She could hear him moving around on the other end.

They kept talking – nonsense really – until Felicity got there, and made her way up to his apartment. She opened the door – it was unlocked. She found Barry sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee, his eyes blown wide.

"Hey," she said, going to sit down next to him. "What's up?"

He shrugged, stared at the coffee. She looked down. "You know, caffeine is probably not great if you want to get any more sleep."

"Decaf," he said.

"Alright," she conceded, "you want anything else?"

He shook his head.

"What was the nightmare about?" she asked.

Barry shuddered. "I tripped and fell in a fire once, not really the fire, just the coals. When I was really young. We were on a camping trip." Barry held up his arm and there was a faint scar visible near his elbow. He put it back down. "The dream – just kept falling. Couldn't get up, then I couldn't move. There was fire everywhere."

"It's OK now."

"Yeah."

"Do you want to lie down?"

"N-no."

Barry turned sharply away and Felicity leaned forward. "Hey," she said, "what's wrong? Barry, come here."

She had a hand against his face, and gently moved it so he was looking at her again. His eyes were still shot wide, but his mouth was a tight line too now, like he was trying to keep it from wavering.

"Hey," she said, and drew him in for a hug. She rubbed his back, holding him close to her and Barry leaned his head down on her shoulder and took in a long breath, tried to expel the panic racing in his lungs, to get rid of the fear and the dread that wouldn't leave him alone.

"It's OK," she said, "You're OK."

"I don't wanna go back, Felicity," he said, and it came out mumbled against her shoulder.

"I know," she said, "I know, Barry." He shuddered. "Do you need to skip work tomorrow?" she asked. "I'll have Caitlin call them. Tell them it's a medical reason."

He was silent for a second. "Yeah… yeah, maybe." He sounded defeated, winded, like he just didn't have the energy left to argue.

"Why don't you try and sleep, Barry? I'll stay right here with you."

"No," he said.

"Why not?"

"I'll have nightmares again."

"Maybe, but they're just dreams. You need rest."

"I know… but God, Felicity I can't do another nightmare." His voice just crumpled and it made Felicity want to stay with him in that room for a week, never let Oliver take him back to that room every again.

"I know it's silly," he said, "they're just dreams, but it just – it feels –"

"It's not silly," she said, "you're going through something awful. Your body and your brain are trying to deal with that."

"Yeah, thanks," he said, "it just…" He let out a long breath. He brought his hands through his hair again, talking quietly. "Can I be completely ridiculous for just like two minutes? Can I just totally humiliate myself and afterwards we can just pretend it didn't happen?" His ears were already getting red but he was bursting, about to explode with it.

"You can tell me anything you want, Barry," she said.

And that was it, that was all he needed. "It hurts," he burst out. He dragged in a breath. "It just… it hurts so much. It's so bad. I don't want to go back, I can't even think about it or I start to panic – it hurts so much, Felicity, it's so bad and I can't take it, I can't deal with it – if this were like the movies where they torture you for information I would have given it up a dozen times over – I would have done anything to make it stop. And I don't know if it's because I'm just really bad with pain or if I just keep comparing myself to Oliver, and it's really normal, he's just freakishly good with it, and I think about it and I can't breathe, because I know I have to go back and I don't want to, Felicity, I don't want to go, and then it's just – it's like it's crushing me and all I can think about is how I'm going to have to do it all over again and I'll beg him to stop and he won't and I'll have to go through that and I can't – I can't endure it, but he makes me endure it anyway and I don't know how I even get through it because it hurts so fucking much – I just want to die – I would have begged him to kill me if I thought he would do it – I would have done anything to make it stop and I-I –" Barry gasped.

"Breathe, Barry," Felicity said, her hand on his back. "It's OK, breathe."

Barry was still gasping and his hands started to tremble.

"It just hurts. It hurts." And then he was choking back sobs and he didn't know how that happened, but there were tears running down his face and he was so fucking done, so absolutely done, shaking with it and finally letting it out and somehow that made it worse and better all at once because he had to acknowledge it, had to feel it, but Felicity was there rubbing his back and he had stopped trying to push everything down inside of him.

"I don't want to have to do this," he said, and he was gasping again, his eyes squeezed shut and tears leaking out anyway, his voice cracking all over the place. "I don't want to have to do this," he said again. And he was still sobbing, because that was it, wasn't it. He had to do it, and he didn't want to, desperately didn't want to, and it was eating away at him, beating him down. "It's awful and I-I want to stop but I c-can't."

Barry could hear himself stuttering, could hear the wrenching noises coming out of his mouth but he didn't care. He was so miserable, so done, so much in pain, and some part of him knew he should be embarrassed that he was sobbing like a five year old in front of Felicity, but he wasn't. He just wanted her to keep rubbing his back and to stay with him because he thought he might die if he were alone right now.

"I know, sweetheart, breathe, now," Felicity said, "it's going to be OK. It won't last forever." She had him back in a hug.

"It hurts," he said again, "It's so fucking awful – it's so much pain – I've never been in tha-that much pain and I-I just want it to stop when I'm there and he wo-on't stop a-and I can't do this but I have to."

"I know, Barry. You're being so brave."

"I don't want to be brave. I don't want to – I want to be Barry Allen and afraid of the dentist and of getting Novocain – I want – I want t-to be – to think breaking my wrist in sixth grade was th-the worst pain imaginable – I want to hate hospitals and not be afraid of being held d-down in place and I w-want to sleep and not wake up screaming – be able to go to bed at night and sleep and no- not be afraid to do tha-at too – I want to stub my toe and still scream and curse and I don't – I don't because that's nothing – it's fucking nothing and I want to think it is – I wa-ant to think that's awful – I want to cry a-at that – I wa-ant to ha-ate that – I wa- I want –"

"Shh," she said, and she had his head in her hand, and his forehead was on her shoulder again and he was shaking and her arms were around him and he felt safe there, safe there at least for a minute. "Shh," she said, "you need to breathe. I know, you want to scream and cry right now, and that's OK, but you need to breath, sweetie, it's OK. It's alright now."

"It hurts, it hurts, it hurts."

"It'll be done soon. You're doing so well, Barry. You're going to be OK. You're going to get through this."

"I want it to stop," he said. He was gripping onto her shirt, his fingers locked in the fabric over her shoulders. "I want to die."

"No you don't," she said, her voice soft, "don't say that, Barry. You're in a lot of pain, but you don't want to die – you just want it to stop. They're not the same thing."

"I'd do anything."

"Except give up," she said softly.

"I can't."

"You could," she said, "but you won't. And that makes you so strong, Barry."

"I want to."

"I know."

"Hu-urts."

"Not right now though, right?"

"N-no."

"So relax now. Calm down a little. That's it. Easy, nice deep breaths."

"I'm so tired."

"So sleep."

"Can't."

"It'll be OK."

"No."

"I'm right here."

"Don't – don't – I-I-I can't –"

"Shh."

He made a soft noise, almost a whimper.

"It's going to be OK."

"I want to sleep."

"Then sleep."

"I can't."

"Sure you can."

"I'll see it – I'll see it and I'll be there a-and –"

"And I'll wake you up, and we can sit right like this, and you can talk about it, or you can just stay here with me."

"I don't want more nightmares." His voice was so quiet.

"I know you don't," she said, "I know this is so hard. You're being really strong. You're going to be alright. You'll always wake up from them. And I'll be right here. You can sleep. It's OK."

"Not safe."

"You are safe. Safe right here."

"I have to stay awake."

"Let someone else take care of you," she said softly, "I'll wake you up if anything happens. I can call Oliver. You've got Caitlin and Wells and Cisco. We won't let anything happen to you."

"I hate this, Felicity."

"I know, Barry."

"It hurts."

"It's OK now though."

"It'll hurt again tomorrow. I'll have to go a-and it-it'll –"

"Shhh," she said, "shhh, Barry, don't think about it – don't think about that now. You have all day and all night – it's only one tiny piece of your day."

And then Barry was quiet. Felicity still held him, rubbing his back, but the silence grew and it began to worry her. He didn't say anything, and his hiccupping breath had evened out a little – enough that it wasn't irregular. It was still harsh in the room, audible.

"Felicity," he said, finally, after a few long minutes. His voice was barely a whisper. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize," she said, "you haven't done anything wrong. I want to be here, Barry, I want to be here for you."

He was quiet again. "Thank you," he said. Another long pause. "Felicity, can you… can you play with my hair again… and I'll lie down… and… and turn on the TV, really low, with the rest of the lights off – a-and maybe… maybe that would be OK i- if you promise to wake me up if I start – if I start…"

"I promise," she said, and she was already moving, going to one end of the couch, drawing him down and she grabbed a blanket, threw it over him. She reached for the remote. "I'll be right here."

"Thank you," he said. And Felicity couldn't help it. His face was puffy and his eyes red and he looked so tired. She leaned down and kissed the top of his head and pushed her fingers through his hair.

"You're welcome," she said, "thank you for calling me… for letting me help."

"I'm sorry," he said again, and Felicity didn't correct him this time.

"I know," she said.

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Barry woke up with a blanket wrapped around him and his head on a pillow. He opened his eyes slowly and his first thought was that he didn't want to get up.

"Morning," Felicity said. She walked into the room with a plate and a fork in her hand. "I made pancakes," she said, "probably not enough for you, but I could only find one box."

Barry sat up slowly and rubbed at his eyes. "That's OK," he said, "I haven't run yet today, and I didn't last night." He got up and walked into the kitchen. Felicity handed him a plate and he stacked three pancakes on and sat down. "Thanks," he said. Felicity sat down across from him.

"No problem." She finished off a pancake and put her fork down, crossed her arms in front of her. "So," she said, "what do you want to do today?"

He shrugged. Suddenly he wasn't all that hungry.

"I called the station," she said, "and Caitlin. You have the flu."

Barry laughed. "If I have the flu I probably shouldn't be doing anything."

"We could stay and watch movies," she said, "or you could make a miraculous recovery and we could go out if you want."

"No, movies sounds good," Barry said. He picked at his food. "And uh… I'm sorry – about last night… and, you know…"

"If you apologize one more time," Felicity said, "I'm going to hit you."

Barry smiled. "Fine," he said, "I just… you know, freaked out and stuff…" He could feel his ears burning, his face heating up. The reality that he had completely broke down right in front of her was not an especially proud moment of his. He was able to brush off when he was screaming in pain, because you know, agony and all, and even afterwards because he was still reeling from it, but this had been different. He had just cracked, and then spilled out all over the place. He was a mess.

"Don't worry about it, Barry," Felicity said, "seriously. You needed that. I'm not looking at you any differently now. In fact, I was starting to get seriously worried – you kept bottling things up."

"Yeah," he said, "I guess I do."

"So," Felicity said as he finished his breakfast, "I'm thinking marathon. Lord of the Rings, or Star Wars?"

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They went to Star labs at three. Barry didn't protest, didn't say anything. Felicity opened up a laptop, googled YouTube videos and insisted they do yoga. Barry was not very flexible, and although he was now quite strong due to his muscle regeneration, he did not have the best balance, which made for some interesting attempts.

Barry toppled over for the fifth time. "This is stupid," he said, and huffed out a breath. Felicity just laughed at him.

"It's supposed to be relaxing, Barry," she said.

"Relaxing," he grumbled, "sure. Call the exercise for contortionists relaxing."

"You don't have to try those ones," she said, "when I suggested it I was thinking tree, downward dog – the easy ones."

"Those are boring."

"Relaxing."

"Boring."

"Why don't you try the warrior." Felicity mimicked the pose, taking a deep breath and then exhaling. Barry was staring at the screen again.

"I bet I can do that head stand one." He got onto the ground, on the mat Felicity had found in some storage closet and dragged in. He tried, and failed, to do it several times. He finally gave up, went back to the computer. "What's that one called?"

"It's called too advanced for you."

He made a face at her.

"Crane," she answered. He squinted his eyes at the picture and then tried to replicate it.

When he had failed at that he collapsed onto the floor, spread out.

Oliver opened the door. Barry sat up, and it only took a second for dread to pool in his stomach.

"Are you ready to go?" Oliver asked. Barry looked at the clock. Four. He could wait until four thirty if he really wanted to. He looked at Felicity. She was waiting for his answer. He swallowed.

"Yeah," he said. He got up, started walking. He knew he was probably as relaxed as he was going to get, and he would only get more stressed the longer he waited. He followed Oliver into the next room, Felicity behind them.

"Alright," Oliver said. He held up what looked like a biking helmet. "This is the prototype that Cisco made. We're going to practice actually getting it on him." Barry looked behind Oliver to find a mannequin set up. He looked around but didn't see any torturey looking items. He was assuming he wasn't going on the table considering they were using the helmet.

"OK," Barry said hesitantly. He was getting nervous now.

Oliver took a deep breath, and Barry felt his adrenaline spike.

"What we're going to do today… what we're going to use – you're not going to like it. But before you say no, I'm going to start off really slow, and it will be alright. It's not as bad as you think it will be."

Barry was getting really nervous now. He glanced at Felicity, then back to Oliver. He fought down the urge to step backwards.

"We're going to use a blowtorch –"

"No," Barry said, the blood draining from his face. And then he did take a step back. "No, no you are not doing that, I am not doing that, absolutely not, no way in hell –"

"You didn't even let me finish," Oliver said.

"I don't care," Barry said, "I'm not doing that. I don't care if you start out slow or that it won't be as bad as I think it will be, because I'm pretty sure that still leaves it as being really freaking bad."

"Barry –"

"No," Barry said, shaking, "No – that's – that's like third degree burns – that's – that's skin grafts – I'm not – no – no."

"Barry," Oliver said, putting his hands up, "We wouldn't do it that badly. You wouldn't have third degree burns."

"I don't care," he said, "I'm not doing that."

"Barry –"

"No," he said, and then he started to panic, looking at the door. "You're not – I'll run – I'll run and – and I won't – don't – don't I can't – don't"

"Hey," Oliver said, "hey, I'm not doing anything. I'm not done talking but I won't make you do anything you don't agree to ahead of time, Barry. I won't start this until you're on board." Barry gulped in air, the information sinking in. "Breathe, Barry," Oliver said.

"Promise," Barry said, and it came out too high.

"I promise," Oliver said.

Barry nodded, gulped in air, managed to slow his breathing a little bit. "OK… OK."

"It would just be used like the brands," Oliver said, "Except it will last a little longer this way. And I want to use it on your feet."

"My feet?"

"Yes."

"Burns on –"

"I know," Oliver said, "They can be more dangerous on the hands and feet – I'm not going to give you lasting damage, Barry. It will not be that bad."

"But why… why there?"

"Because you're going to run."

The information sunk in and Barry cringed. He wrung his hands together.

"I'll start out with just a second of heat. We'll work our way up."

"I – I don't like fire," Barry said helplessly.

"I know," Oliver said, "It's time to get over the fear."

"That's not… that's not how it works," Barry said.

"It's called flooding."

"I know what it's called," Barry said, "it doesn't usually work – it usually makes the fear worse."

"You're making fears worse every time you come in here, Barry," Oliver said, "I figured if we're going to do that, then we might as well give this a shot. I know you're getting scared of needles, and I'm figuring you're not great with knives either. I don't want to introduce another fear."

"But – but this –"

"I know it's scary. But you're going to have to work through fear when you're facing the guy, so we need to practice that too."

"How bad will the burns be?"

"Not bad."

"What does that mean?"

"They'll heal within an hour of you leaving here. Probably quicker."

"I – I don't want to do this."

"I know," Oliver said, "But you need to."

Barry shook his head, took a step back, the panic was coming back.

Oliver put his hands up. "Hey," he said, "not doing anything until you agree to it – remember? Calm down. I'll be right there the whole time. If you really think you can't do this – if you really think that it'll be too much and make it that much worse – then I have a backup plan."

"What's the backup plan?" Barry asked.

"I'm going to break a bunch of glass, and scatter it the distance you'll have to run. You'd have to take off your shoes."

"But the glass – won't that –"

"It'll be small shards – not enough to slice through anything important. I'm not taking them out until the end though, so you'd be stuck with it. And it would hurt when we got the glass out, afterwards, and that would not be part of the training, so I figured you might prefer the burns, which would just heal."

Barry's stomach was churning. The idea of glass stuck in his feet, grinding into them with every hit did not exactly appeal to him. He had broken a glass once and gotten shards in his hand as a kid. Joe had to hold his wrist down while he wailed to get the pieces out. The idea of having glass shards in his feet, not allowed to take them out until the end, made him feel sick.

"I'll do the burns," Barry said quietly.

Oliver let out a breath. "I think that's the better choice."

Barry followed Oliver. There was a table. Oliver motioned and Barry sat on it, feet dangling. Oliver told him to take off his shoes. Barry took his time. Then his socks. He pulled them off slowly.

"We're going to do this first," Oliver said, "I'm going to give you a few seconds to calm down, to get used to it, and then you're going to take this," he held up the helmet, "and run over there, put it on the mannequin. I don't think you'll have any trouble the first few times. You have thirty seconds to get it done. After that I'll give you an extra burn on your leg."

Barry gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white around the edges.

"When you get over there," Oliver said, "You don't have to run back, you can walk, but it might hurt less to just get it over with and run. I'll give you a few seconds if you do, so don't walk just to prolong the time."

Oliver reached behind the table. He looked up.

"It might be easier," he said, "If at first, you closed your eyes."

Barry was shaking. "No – wait," he said, "you – you said only a little at first, right? Really slow? Like really, really slow?"

"I'm only going to keep it on for a second," Oliver said, "and it won't be right on your skin. I'm going to do it twice, once on each foot, so try not to jerk away. Put your heels against the side."

Barry did as he said, pressed his heels into the cold metal that made up the side of the table, like a counter.

"Close your eyes," Oliver said, "Don't open them after the first foot. Keep them closed until I've done both. I'm going to give you a minute afterwards, so just relax." When Barry didn't move Oliver said again, "Barry, close your eyes."

"Now?" Barry said, and his voice squeaked.

"Yes," Oliver said

"Can't – just – just one minute."

"No, Barry. Right now. It's OK. Just a tiny one right now, you've done much worse with the brands, you understand? It's alright. Now I'm going to start either way, so close your eyes. I'll tell you before I start, OK?"

Barry trembled, but he saw Oliver reach behind him and he squeezed his eyes shut. The sound of his harsh breaths filled his ears. He heard Oliver walk around him.

A hand pressed against his ankle. "I'm going to go, OK, Barry?"

Barry made a whimpering noise, trying to stop himself and failing, wanting to rip his foot away.

"It's alright," Oliver said, "I want you to take a nice, deep breath, now."

Barry did, and then burning pain sparked on his foot.

He yelped, jerked back, but it was on his other foot in a second, and then he had both knees pulled to his chest, heels on the edge of the table and the middle of his foot hanging off, where the burn was. He opened his eyes.

"Easy," Oliver said, hands up. "Breathe. Focus on the pain for a second. It's not that bad."

Barry hyperventilated, but he couldn't help but do as Oliver said, focus on the pain. And after a moment he realized that no, it was not that bad. It was already fading, and even the initial pain had not been that bad. It was nowhere near as bad as the brands had become when he was using them, not even close. He relaxed a little.

"That's it," Oliver said. "He picked up the helmet. Think you could run this over now?" he asked.

Barry took it from him slowly, turned it over in his hands.

And then he was on the other side, the helmet on the mannequins head and Barry was sitting on the ground.

"Ow," he said. His feet burned, the floor painful. Running fast did not exactly help, considering it generated heat, and the friction of his feet against the floor felt awful without burns on his feet.

"Good job," Oliver said, "come back over."

Barry made a pained expression, but stood up. He arched his feet, tried to walk over but hissed when he did, and halfway through he just gave up and ran, ending sitting back on that table, knees at his chest, gingerly rubbing at his feet. The helmet was back at his side.

"That was good," Oliver said.

Barry looked up, face strained. "I don't think I can do this," he said, the panic still there, "I know – I know you said we'd start slow but I know you're going to make it worse and this – this already hurts a lot. My feet heat up when I run and the friction on the floor –"

"Barry," Oliver said, "you can handle it. I wouldn't have done it if you couldn't."

"But I can't," Barry said, and his voice cracked.

"Yes you can. You're already doing great."

So they continued. The burns got worse, but slowly, because it was very clear that Barry was still terrified of the blowtorch and the fire, no matter how many times Oliver reassured him. He still squeezed his eyes shut, gripped the table hard. He ran over, collapsed, and stayed there, back pressed against the floor, lying completely horizontal, until Oliver yelled at him to go back. He'd try to walk, give up, and end up running. Then they started all over again. Then the burns started getting worse, and Barry was having trouble getting across.

Then he fell halfway through, tried to get up, failed, panted some more, stumbled, and finally ran, made it all the way. He collapsed, Oliver called him back, he limped there, and then he was back on the table.

"You took forty seconds that time," Oliver said.

Barry stared at him dumbly. "Forty seconds."

"Yep."

Barry stared at him some more.

"That means we're doing an extra burn."

Barry's eyes watered, and he pulled his knees up again, but he couldn't get his heels on the table anymore, those were burned too.

"Oliver… no, come on – I'll do it this time. I just – let me try again."

"Not how it works."

"Oliver – no, please, come on."

Oliver had the blow torch. Barry inched away, backed up. Oliver grabbed his arm, made him stop.

"No – no, not there, Oliver, not my arm, don't –"

"I'm not doing it on your arm," Oliver said calmly, "I'm just holding you still. Take a deep breath, Barry."

Barry was shaking, eyes watering. Oliver let go of his arm, moved down. He gripped his ankle and Barry let out a sob.

"Deep breath," Oliver said. Barry gulped in air.

He screamed and Oliver took the opportunity to quickly get his feet as well, because he really didn't want to have to get Barry to calm down again to do those. Barry shook, grabbed at his feet, his legs, still crying out in pain.

"That's it," Oliver said, "breathe. You have to get down from the table, Barry."

Barry screwed up his face, clenched his teeth and hopped down. He squeezed his eyes shut as soon as his feet his the ground, groaned through his teeth. He arched his feet, tilted them onto the sides, trying to get pressure off the soles.

"Time to go," Oliver said, and Barry gave him one last pleading look before running to the other side.

It started getting worse. It always did. Barry wasn't thinking anymore, just doing, just running. There was the agonizing pain, then the short burst which always made it so much worse, and then he was fumbling with the helmet, practicing getting it on at super speed, before he got a few merciful moments off his feet, and then he was called back over. He got more burns on his legs, more times over thirty seconds that he tried so hard to avoid. And after a few more of those he wasn't crying any more, tear stains on his face but just trudging, enduring, trying to get through it.

He was back on the table, and Oliver left the flame on for just a little longer and Barry thought he was going to pass out. Then he was on his feet. He didn't remember jumping down, didn't know if he had done it or Oliver had pushed him. Either way that agonizing pain was back and he couldn't even scream, just stood.

Oliver was saying to go, and he had to, he had to. He tried to walk, tried to stumble, but the pain on his legs urged him on. He didn't want another extra burn, he didn't want more pain, more pain that spread out, up his feet and to his legs, so he had to make it over, had to run.

He only took a few steps, all at super speed, and it was too much. The pain shot through his body, overwhelmed him, shut down his brain until it was all he could feel, and he collapsed.

Oliver watched as Barry went down, crying out. He cringed, waited for Barry to get back up. He looked down at the stopwatch, then back up. But Barry wasn't stumbling to his feet, wasn't trying to get over. Instead he had curled up into a ball on the ground and Oliver could hear the racking, muffled sounds of pain from where he was standing. Oliver tensed, watched as the clock timed out. When Barry still didn't move he started to get worried, quickly walking over to him.

"Barry," Oliver said. He kneeled down. If Barry noticed he didn't make any sign of it. He was sobbing into his arms, face hidden, practically in the fetal position.

Oliver reached down carefully, gently, and placed his hand on Barry's shoulder. Oliver expected him to flinch, to cringe away, but he didn't. He didn't respond at all. Oliver started to sweat.

"Barry," he said, shaking his shoulder just a little. "Hey, Barry, look up for me. It's alright. Look over here."

But Barry was unresponsive, not showing any signs of having heard him. Oliver kept rubbing his shoulder, other hand going for his arm. Barry was limp, shaking. He didn't move when Oliver took his hand, didn't do anything when he tried to get a hand under his head.

"Barry," Oliver said, "it's OK. Come back. It's alright. It's done. Come on, you're OK." He was very obviously conscious, still trembling and panting, noises of pain and discomfort, all mixed with fear and dread, coming out of his mouth, but he didn't seem to acknowledge anything of the outside world at all.

"Shit," Oliver said under his breath. Felicity was walking over to him, face worried. Oliver waved at her to go back. "Caitlin," he mouthed at her, and Felicity nodded, ran to the door.

"It's alright," Oliver said, because he didn't know what else to say. He knew this could happen of course, but since Barry had never reacted like this before, he hadn't expected it to happen now. He had looked for signs the first time they did this, expected it then, but not now. "Barry, I need you to listen," Oliver said, "I know you can hear me. I need you to come back, open your eyes. It's alright, we're all done right now. We're not going to do any more. You're safe. You're perfectly safe, OK? But I need you to open your eyes, to talk to me."

Caitlin started walking in with Felicity. Oliver let out a breath.

"I know you don't want to right now, Barry, but we really need you to open your eyes. I know it still hurts a lot, and you're in a lot of pain, but we're going to help make it better now, OK? But we can't do that until you're back with us."

Barry didn't move, but there was a change in his breathing. He was listening now at least, was taking in the words even if he couldn't quite process them yet.

"That's it," Oliver said, his tone soothing. "Nice and easy, it's OK. You're OK. I'm right here. Caitlin and Felicity are coming over, OK? We're going to need you to sit up in a bit."

There was a sharp breath and Barry finally moved, tightening his curled up position a little more. Oliver rubbed his back.

"Opposite way there, Bar. We need you to sit up, not curl up tighter."

He made a small noise of discomfort.

"I know. It hurts really bad right now. You don't feel good, everything's spinning. It's OK, though. We're here. You're OK."

Barry didn't move.

Caitlin kneeled down beside him, gently took his wrist, checked his pulse. She uncapped a salve and started applying it to the burns.

Barry moved one foot away, burying his head deeper in his arms and sucking in a sharp breath.

"It's OK," Oliver said, "it's just Caitlin. She's going to help you start feeling better."

Barry felt dazed. He didn't know what was going on, couldn't remember what was going on, or more accurately, couldn't connect to the memories. His mind wasn't thinking clearly enough for that. All he knew was everything hurt and someone was touching him and he was pretty sure it was Oliver talking, trying to get him to stop hiding, but he didn't want to stop hiding. He was terrified and everything hurt and he didn't know if he had passed out or not, just that everything was dark and he was very confused, scared.

"Barry," Felicity said, and Barry recognized that voice too, managed to place it after a couple seconds. "It's OK, Bar. If you open your eyes and sit up for us we can take you out of this room – let you lie down on a couch instead. We'll stay with you."

Barry didn't want to move, didn't want to get up or go anywhere. He pulled his knees in again. He trembled.

"It's OK," Felicity said again, and her voice was soothing. She kept talking, but the words ran together, and Oliver was there too, he could feel his hand on his shoulder, and Felicity was touching his hair, his forehead. Caitlin was at his feet and legs and those were starting to feel a little bit better, the cooling salve on it, and then there was ice, wonderful, merciful ice, and suddenly the pain wasn't a huge boulder in front of him, wasn't a blanket, just a sheet, and he could think again. He just wasn't sure if he wanted to.

But he opened his eyes and shifted a little, got his breathing to even out. He realized he was on the floor, and slowly moved his head out from the crook of his elbow where he had buried it. He trembled a little more, and then he pushed himself upright.

His vision went black for a second, the sudden movement sending his head spinning, dizzy. Oliver gripped his arm, steadied him. He looked around, moved his feet. They were bandaged now, his legs too, and he could tell they were already healing.

Barry stared straight ahead. He felt weak, lightheaded, and suddenly everything was numb.

"Can I go to that room now?" he asked. His voice came out raw.

"Yeah," Oliver said, "yeah, of course."

And then Barry was in a room, and he wasn't sure how he got there, because he hadn't walked. He was on a couch, someone was there, probably Felicity, but he was pretty sure Oliver too, and then there was a blanket and he pulled it up over himself and the couch was so soft and soon he was wrapped up and asleep.

LLLLLLLLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

The moment they were out of the room Caitlin spun on him.

"What the hell was that?"

"He shut down," Oliver said.

"Yeah, I hadn't noticed," Caitlin said, "and why the hell did that happen? What did you do?"

Oliver cringed. "He spaced out. Disconnected. I didn't think it would happen – he's never reacted like that before, and he was fine right before it happened – I mean, not fine, obviously, but not at all like he is now. It's good that he's asleep. He should be fine when he wakes up."

Caitlin took in a sharp breath, turned on her heel. Somehow that was worse than her yelling. Silence. Caitlin was only silent when she was too angry, too upset, too scared to trust herself with words.

When Barry woke up, Felicity was with him, laptop open, searching something. Barry slowly sat up, fuzzy images of what had happened coming back.

"Hey," Felicity said, "how are you feeling?"

Barry stared at her, and Felicity felt her face go pale, afraid that he was still in the same state as when he fell asleep. And then something broke in Barry's expression, and it slowly crumbled.

The next thing she knew Barry had lunged at her and he was sobbing into her shoulder, arms wrapped around her back and she was thudding against the backrest of the couch.

She recovered quickly though. "Hey," she said, "it's OK. Barry what's wrong?"

He just kept crying, shaking his head against her, trembling.

"OK," she said, "OK, it's alright. You're OK. It's OK now, you're safe."

It took Barry a while to calm down, and when he did he didn't let go of Felicity, just rested his head against her shoulder, moved his hands apart, unlocking the death grip he had.

"You want to tell me what you're thinking?" Felicity asked gently.

Barry shuddered. "That was awful," he said, voice cracking.

"I know. It's done now."

"I-I don't – it was too much – I couldn't handle it. It was terrifying."

"I know, shh, it's OK."

"It hurt and it just – it just – and then I-I couldn't move and it hurt and I didn't – I didn't know what to do – I was scared – I-I couldn't move – it was like I was drowning and I was alone and I didn't know what was happening."

"You weren't alone," Felicity said. "Oliver was right there with you. Me and Caitlin were too."

"Don't leave," he said, desperately, "Don't, Felicity, I'm scared – I'm scared and I – I – everything is still –"

"Shh," Felicity said, holding him tight, "Shh, Barry, it's OK. I'm right here. You're safe. Take deep breaths now, you're panicking."

"Can't… stop," Barry said, still shaking.

"Deep breaths," Felicity repeated, "slow down your breathing and it will stop. You can do it. You're OK now. No one's going to hurt you."

But Barry let out a cry. "Felicity, it hurts – it's starting to hurt," he said, distressed all over again.

"OK," she said, "you remember what Caitlin said? Take deep breaths, calm yourself down, and it will stop. Sit up straight, there you go. I'm going to get you some ice, OK?"

"No, don't – don't," he said.

She hesitated. "I'm not leaving," she said, "I'm just going to go to the door, and yell, OK?"

He nodded, watched as she went, ducked her head out the door and yelled for Caitlin or Cisco or Oliver. A minute later there were ice packs in her hands and Oliver was peeking into the room.

"Should I come in?" Oliver asked, directing the question to Felicity.

She looked at Barry, and looked back. She shook her head. "Not yet. I think he might get worse with you near him again. Let me calm him down first."

Oliver nodded, shut the door. Felicity went back to Barry, put the icepack against his back, talked to him until the pain passed. She tried to get him to drink, to eat, but he wouldn't. He was being uncharacteristically clingy, and it had her reeling, worrying more. He wouldn't leave her side, got that terrified look in his eyes whenever she tried to get up. He was curled in a little ball and wouldn't unwind from it. He was still scared, so scared, and Felicity didn't know what to do other than to hold him when he pressed into her side and to pet his hair when he wanted and to tell him that everything was alright, over, and over, and over again.

Oliver knocked on the door, stuck his head in. He waited, gave a pointed look to Felicity.

"Barry, I'm just going to go into the hallway for one minute, OK?"

His eyes widened again, sparked with fear. He trembled.

"It's OK – I'll be right back."

He nodded, still trembled, but nodded. She went out after Oliver.

"How's he doing?" Oliver asked.

"Bad."

"How bad?"

"He's terrified."

"Oh."

"And I can't talk for long, because I'm pretty sure if I'm out here for more than two minutes, he's going to have another panic attack."

Oliver's frown deepened. "Did he eat anything?"

"No."

"He really should."

"You try and make him, then."

"Alright, noted."

"He's not acting like himself. And I mean more than usual, for after a session. Like really not himself. If he doesn't get better, then we can't let him go home like this."

"Do you think we should have Caitlin check him out?"

"I think if she goes anywhere near him with a needle he's going to go right back into shutting down."

Oliver pushed a hand through his hair. "He has to eat something. We need to get him to calm down, this isn't good for him, physically. He's going to exhaust himself."

"Maybe you should go in and sit with him."

"You think that would help?"

"I think he's a little afraid of you right now. He's still back in that room. Talk him down. Maybe if he sees that you're back to normal, it'll help him get back to normal. Show him that the session's really over, that he can relax."

"OK," Oliver said. He nodded, opened the door.

"Barry," Felicity said. He looked up, eyes wide. "I have to run to the bathroom. Oliver's going to stay with you, OK?"

Barry's eyes widened, he jerked his head no, clenched his hands. He trembled, eyes flitting from her to Oliver. Felicity gave one last look at Oliver, then smiled at Barry and left. Oliver walked over.

"Hey, Bar," Oliver said, "do you think you could eat something for me?" He held up one of the calorie bars. Barry just stared at him.

"No," he said.

"It'll help you feel better," Oliver said.

"No."

"Some water?"

"No."

Oliver sighed. He wasn't going to push him when he was like this.

Oliver looked at him carefully. "You know I'm not going to hurt you, right Barry?"

Barry blinked, nodded.

"Because you're not doing a session right now – we're not training. I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe. It's over for today."

Barry nodded again, seemed to be relaxing just the slightest bit.

"Can you talk to me about what happened?"

Barry shook his head.

"Do you feel alright now?"

Paused, shook his head again, slowly this time.

"What's wrong?"

"I feel sick."

"Sick how?"

"My head… stomach… everything hurts. And I feel… I can't relax. I can't calm down and I'm – I'm scared. I don't… don't know what to do. Feels like… I don't know. It doesn't feel good."

"What are you scared of?" Oliver was pushing him now, trying to get him to really talk about it, and Barry was looking more and more uncomfortable. He had a blanket in his hands, fingers curled up to fists and twisting it in his hands.

"I – I don't know," Barry said, staring down.

"Well what's your first thought when you feel scared?"

"I… I feel helpless."

Oliver nodded. "What else?"

"Like… like I'm not safe," he said, putting his head in his hands, bending over.

"You're perfectly safe now."

"I know."

"But you don't feel like it."

"No."

"What feels unsafe?"

"I dunno," Barry mumbled.

"Think."

"I don't want to," he muttered again, "I want to curl into a ball."

"You've gotta talk to me, Barry."

"You're not my damn therapist."

"What doesn't feel safe?" Oliver said again. Barry was shutting down again, staring at the floor now. "Hey," Oliver said, taking his shoulder, moving closer to him, "Stay with me. What doesn't feel safe?"

"Everything."

"Elaborate."

"I don't want to talk."

"You're going to anyway. What do you mean by everything?"

"I don't know, the world," Barry said, gesturing vaguely, "It's like… like everything around me is caving in and I can't do anything to stop it – like I need to run, but I can't – there's nowhere to go, so I curl into a ball and squeeze my eyes close and wait for it to end – it feels like that's the only thing I can do – that I need to protect myself and it's my only option."

"You're retreating in on yourself," Oliver said.

"Yeah, I guess."

"It's what you did in the room."

Barry tensed.

"You don't have to," Oliver said, "and especially not now. Nothing's caving in. You're fine. And you're not helpless either, not even when we're training and you're in pain. You were running today, and I know it feels like you're not in control – but you are. You made the decision to do this. You walked into the room. I'm not going to make you. I couldn't make you anyway."

"But once I'm there…" Barry shuddered.

"You give up control," Oliver said, nodding "but you are the one who decides to – you choose to do it."

"I have control over losing control," Barry said flatly.

"Yes."

Barry started to nod slowly, wrapping his mind around the concept. Oliver moved his hand over his shoulder.

"But right now, you have it all back," Oliver said, "and there's nothing coming down around you. You're not in pain. No one's going to hurt you. So just keep taking deep breaths, relax your arms, your shoulders – you're all tensed up, Barry. You can calm down, you just need to let yourself."

Barry nodded some more, visibly making an effort to let some of the tension go in his body. He leaned back again against the couch.

"And I would really, really love it if you could eat something for me," Oliver said, grabbing the calorie bar again.

Barry sighed and took it, bit off a piece. He drank the water too, finished the bar.

"You feel any better?" Oliver asked, "I can get you another one – more water."

Barry shook his head. "I ate and drank – that's all you're getting from me."

Oliver smiled. "Well I at least tried." He stood up. "I'm going to go get Felicity again, unless you want me to stay?"

Barry shrugged, and Oliver nodded. He went for the door.

"Wait," Barry said, his voice a little panicked. Oliver stopped, turned around. Barry was looking down again, his face going a little red. "Could you um… call her? Or wait, or, shit, it's just… um…I-I don't…It's dumb, it's really stupid – I'm just… nervous and – and I know, I'm safe and everything it's just… I-I don't want to be alone." Barry cringed as he said it, ears going red. He looked up, embarrassed and clearly anxious for an answer

"Barry," Oliver said, "I can call her." He was already pulling out his phone. "It's not dumb," he said, "I should have thought about it – have realized it and called her in the first place. You shouldn't be alone right now anyway." He dialed the number, asked her to come. She was there in a minute, just out in the other room, the main one with all the medical equipment and Cisco's instruments. Oliver smiled at him as he left. "I'll see you tomorrow, Barry."

OK so FINAL FIGHT WITH META NEXT YAYYYY it was gonna be this chapter and then i had eight thousand words and hey i might as well post already - probably going to be one or two chapters after the next one - depends how much i feel like torturing Barry. As always please review! Thanks for reading :)