Scrutiny

By his third week of treatment, Barry grew to know what to expect when Thursday came around. Unlike his second week, Barry wasn't necessarily scared when Caitlin inserted the needle into his arm. He was tired and anxious to be done with it, yes, but he wasn't scared.

The vomiting was somewhat minimal this time, since Caitlin had given him antiemetics intravenously rather than have him swallow them in pill form. With the vomiting under control, sleep was finally possible for Barry, but it wasn't without interruptions. Unfortunately, Caitlin couldn't do much to relieve his other symptoms, and Barry still spent the majority of his night tossing and turning in a cold sweat as he tried to get comfortable.

When morning came, however, Barry was quick to get out of bed, deciding it would be worth the car drive home just to be able to sleep in his own bed. Caitlin, surprisingly, agreed with him.

"You seem to be handling the chemo much better this week," she observed, a pleased smile on her face, "I don't think you'll require such close monitoring after your treatments from now on. Your body is holding up to the strain, and I'm sure you'd get much better rest in your own bed at home."

"Thank you, Caitlin," he grinned.

He grimaced, however, when she started fiddling with his IV.

"Do you think you could just leave it in?" Barry asked suddenly, "You don't have to take it all the way out every time. Can't you just disconnect it from the stand and stat-lock it? That way you won't have to put a new one in later. We can just reattach the tubing to it."

"It's an infection risk, Barry," she said sadly, "I can't send you home with a stat-locked IV in your arm. It gives bacteria direct access to your bloodstream, and we can't risk sepsis right now. With your weakened immune system, an infection like that could kill you."

"Caitlin, I look like a junkie," Barry said, holding out his arms.

Caitlin's stomach twisted when she saw the bruising and scarring left behind from multiple weeks of IVs and dialysis treatments.

"It looks like I have track marks all over my arms," Barry sighed, looking down at them with disgust, "And I'm pretty sure Julian saw it the other day. I don't want my coworkers assuming things about me."

"Leaving the IV in isn't an option, Barry," Caitlin repeated, "But you do have another option. I could always insert a PICC line for you."

Barry's nose wrinkled.

"Is that really necessary?" he sighed.

"It's actually quite common for cancer patients," Caitlin reasoned, "And you're probably going to be on one later down the road. It could save you a lot of pain to just get it in now, since then I won't have to dig around in your arms, looking for a good vein all the time. Your blood vessels are getting weaker every time I do it."

"What's a PICC line?" Joe asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

"It's a permanent central IV catheter that could stay in his arm 24/7," Caitlin explained, "I would insert it in the crook of his left arm and thread it up the vein, directly to his heart. The insertion site is sealed, so it's not as much of an infection hazard as an open IV would be, and I could leave it in for the duration of his treatment. That way I'll always have access to his bloodstream to deliver medications and even take blood draws without a needle stick every time."

"Well, I see no problem with it," Joe shrugged, "Why haven't we done it already?"

"I didn't really think Barry would want it," Caitlin said awkwardly, side-glancing at Barry.

Barry stared down at the bedsheets, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"I don't know if I do," he said quietly.

"What?" Joe asked, furrowing his eyebrows, "Why on earth wouldn't you? You'd rather be poked and prodded over and over again?"

"I don't know," Barry sighed, "Leaving an IV in overnight is one thing, but a PICC line…I'd have to always have it in. I'd have to constantly be hiding it at work, and even at home when Wally's there."

"Bar, you already hide your arms most of the time anyways," Joe reasoned, "I don't see how having this PICC line is any different, and if it can save you the hassle of getting IVs put in…"

"I know," Barry sighed, "It's just…"

"It's hard," Caitlin said understandingly, giving him a sympathetic look, "But I promise, Barry, it will make things easier for you."

Barry nodded and looked down again.

"I know," he said softly, "You're right. Let's just do it then."

Caitlin nodded and crossed the room to her medical cabinet, pulling out the supplies she'd need. When she glanced back at Barry, he was still staring down at the sheets covering his legs, an unreadable expression on his face.

An hour later, Barry was riding the elevator down with Joe, on their way to the car. He knew he should be happy right now. He was standing upright, fully cognizant despite the fact that he had gotten his chemo infusion just last night. This time last week, he could barely sit upright in bed. His body was starting to acclimate to his treatments now, which should have been a huge relief to him, but all Barry could focus on was the tubing protruding from his arm, just under the sleeve of his shirt.

It would act as a constant reminder to him now, a constant reminder of his current situation. The PICC line would just make it that much harder for him to pretend like everything was normal, like he wasn't sick and battling for his life right now.

"Where's Cisco tonight?" Joe asked, pulling Barry from his thoughts.

"He said he had a family thing he had to go to," he sighed, stepping out of the elevator when the doors opened.

"He's hardly been around these last few weeks," Joe mused.

"He came last week," Barry pointed out, "It's not like he's been completely MIA."

"I suppose," Joe muttered.

"I can't expect him to come to every treatment," Barry reasoned, "I don't want any of you to feel obligated to be here every Thursday. I'm handling the chemo a lot better now, so it's really not necessary."

"Still," Joe said, "He's been kind of distant since you started treatment."

Barry couldn't help but sigh as they walked. Joe had a point. Cisco had been acting differently ever since Barry had started his treatments. He wasn't necessarily avoiding him, but he had certainly been spending less and less time at STAR Labs.

"He's just dealing with all of this in his own way," Barry said, not sure if he was talking so much to Joe or more to himself, "If I've learned anything, it's that cancer doesn't just affect the person who is sick. It affects everyone who cares about them, too. Cisco's probably just keeping his distance so he can deal with it without putting more stress on me. I just wish he knew he didn't have to."

As they reached the car and Joe started the engine, Barry couldn't stop the unsettling feeling in his gut as he thought it all over. He didn't quite understand what had changed in Cisco lately. It was more than just the fact that Cisco wasn't there as much as he was before. It was the way Cisco looked at him when he was there.

There was a sadness in his eyes that wasn't there before. When Barry had first been diagnosed Cisco had certainly been saddened with the news, yes, but he had also been optimistic. Since Barry had started chemo, however, that optimism wasn't as prevalent as it was before. He didn't look at Barry with the same hope in his eyes. The way Cisco looked at him now…

It was like he had already lost him.

Joe ran his hand over his face as he worked on his case report. It was taking him much longer than usual, despite the fact that he was rushing through it. He wasn't even supposed to be here today, on a Sunday. He was supposed to be home with Barry, who was still recovering from his third chemo treatment. It was this thought that was rushing Joe to finish his work but distracting him at the same time.

"Joe," Singh sighed, approaching his desk, "Why don't you finish that when you come in tomorrow? You should be home right now."

"It won't take long," Joe said, eyes scanning over his report, "I'm on call this weekend, and you don't have enough hands to cover a robbery this big."

"Are you sure?" Singh pressed, "I know you have a history with Snart, but there are plenty of other detectives who can—"

"I'm sure," Joe nodded, "Barry's handling this round of treatment a lot better than the first two, and I think he's probably grateful for the break from my pestering anyways."

Joe let out a light laugh, and the tension seemed to leave Singh's face slightly.

"Still," he said, "I feel bad calling you in like this. I wouldn't have if I had any other choice. With the Flash MIA, all my best detectives have their hands full with other cases right now. They're starting to pile up."

"Well, maybe this is a good thing," Julian said, butting into the conversation as he strode up to Joe's desk, "This department has grown lazy, allowing unreliable vigilantes like the Flash to do their work for them. It's about time Central City looked to law enforcement to handle these issues."

"I can't say I completely disagree with you, Albert," Singh sighed, "But the Flash wasn't a entirely useless ally to have in our corner. He has helped us out quite a bit over this last year. His speed allows him to get to scenes much faster than we can respond to them."

"Yes, and he disappeared just as fast," Julian shrugged, "You say he was useful, but in my book, the best ability is reliability. Speaking of which…"

Julian tossed a folder onto Joe's desk with a flourish.

"My full forensic analysis on today's robbery," he said, a triumphant smile on his face, "You'll find in there that the evidence points to a well-known criminal by the name of—"

"Leonard Snart," Joe and Singh both said in unison, causing Julian to raise an eyebrow.

"Thank you, Julian," Singh said dismissively, "That should be all we need from you today."

Julian stared at him for a moment before clearing his throat.

"Yes, well," he spoke, fastening his coat, "I'm always willing to drop what I'm doing and come in on a Sunday to help out in the absence of…others."

Joe bit his tongue and looked down at the folder on his desk rather than at Julian's smug face, knowing his comment was directed at more than just the Flash. Joe was shocked when Singh spoke up.

"If you're talking about Mr. Allen," he said, giving Julian a stern look, "I've seen him come in to work more weekends than most of my detectives, and he had good reasons for not being able to come in today."

Julian raised his eyebrows, but when Singh didn't further elaborate, he nodded and cleared his throat.

"Well, I'm always willing to pick up the slack," he said simply.

He finished fastening his coat and picked up his briefcase to leave.

"Captain," he nodded, "Detective."

They both nodded back, and Julian briskly left the precinct. After he left, Joe raised an eyebrow at Singh.

"I know," Singh sighed, "Albert is a little rough around the edges, but he's good at his job."

Joe sighed and shook his head.

"I know bringing in another CSI was my idea," he sighed, "But that was because I thought it would help take some of the pressure off Barry. Julian, though…"

"We need the extra help," Singh said gently, "Now, I know he and Allen have had a rough start, but—"

"Rough is one way to put it," Joe said with a humorless laugh.

"Look, Joe," Singh sighed, "I'm doing everything I can to accommodate Barry's illness, but…"

"But you have a precinct to think about," Joe sighed, running a hand over his face.

"I know it's not Barry's fault," Singh added hurriedly, "But the hard truth is that this precinct can't get by with only one CSI, who is very good at his job, but can't…"

"Can't always make it to work," Joe sighed, nodding slightly, "Don't let Barry hear you say that. He'll come rolling in here with his IV stand just to prove you wrong."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Singh said sadly, "You have to realize, Joe, that my hands are tied here. We need another CSI, and Julian was the best I could find on such short notice. He had excellent references, and his expertise in metahumans is a huge asset for our precinct. But he has a competitive side, and I'm worried that kind of competition is going to push Barry to overexert himself."

"We share the same concerns then," Joe nodded.

"But I don't have a solution," Singh admitted, "With no lab director and Barry sick…"

Singh let out a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I understand," Joe said, needing no further explanation, "I appreciate how flexible you've been in light of our situation so far. Barry and Julian are just going to have to learn to coexist."

Singh exhaled and looked up, nodding.

"It's the best we can do for now."

Since his diagnosis, Barry had had to adjust to many drastic changes in his life. He had an IV stand in his bedroom and a tube in his arm. His hair, he had recently begun to notice, was becoming thinner, more brittle. There were pillows on their upstairs bathroom floor and more pill bottles than the medicine cabinet could fit.

Iris was an ocean away. Wally was spending more and more time at the house. Cisco seemed more distant than ever. Caitlin was acting more like a doctor than a friend, and Joe was acting more like a nurse than a detective.

And boy, did detectives make overbearing nurses. Joe kept a close eye on Barry, making sure no pill went untaken, no meal went uneaten, and most importantly, that Barry behaved himself. No running. No caffeine. No field work. Joe was always watching him, but Barry knew it was for his own good, so he had not only grown to accept it; he had grown used to it.

What he wasn't used to, however, was the way Julian watched him. Of all the extreme changes Barry had recently had to deal with in his life, none was so challenging as Julian Albert. Julian had been micromanaging him for the entirety of his first week at the CCPD, but this week was different. It was somehow worse.

Julian wasn't just micromanaging Barry anymore; he was watching him. It wasn't just about critiquing Barry's lab techniques, though. It was something more than that. Maybe it was just in his head, but Barry was growing more and more certain that Julian was mentally cataloging everything he did throughout the course of his work shift. What Barry didn't know was why.

"Where are you going, Allen?" Julian called to Barry's back when he moved suddenly for the door, "You just went to the bathroom five minutes ago."

"Gotta ask Joe something," Barry clipped, darting out the lab door.

He rounded the corner in a hurried daze, stumbling through the men's room door as fast as he could. He latched the bathroom door with trembling fingers before darting for the nearest toilet to be sick.

Great, he thought to himself, now Julian's going to be asking about my eyes again.

Barry hadn't liked the look Julian had given him when he told him he had allergies. He didn't like half the looks Julian had been giving him this week.

As Barry was washing his hands and wiping his mouth clean, he froze in place when he heard the bathroom door rattle. Someone was trying to come in.

Damn it, he thought, why is someone using this bathroom?

Most people worked on the ground level of the CCPD, so the second floor bathroom was usually vacant.

"Sorry," Barry called, unlocking the door, "I must have accidentally latched it when I…"

The words died in Barry's throat when he opened the door to find that there was no one there. They must have assumed the bathroom was out of order and left to find another.

Barry sighed in relief. Maybe locking the bathroom door wasn't the best idea. He didn't want anyone to walk in on him throwing up, but he also didn't want his coworkers to wonder why he locked himself up in the bathroom for extended periods of time. His coworkers thought he was weird enough as it was.

"Had a good chat with Joe?" Julian asked when Barry reentered the lab.

"Wha…uh, yeah," Barry stammered, "He's pretty slammed with cases right now."

"As are we…" Julian said slowly, his eyes narrowing as he took in Barry's rough appearance, "…if you're feeling up to it."

"What?" Barry asked, sitting down at his desk, "Of course I am. I feel fine. It's just my—"

"Allergies again, Allen?" Julian drawled, "Perhaps it's time you see a doctor."

"I have," Barry replied with a small chuckle, reaching into his desk drawer, "This should help."

It wasn't allergy medication but antiemetics that Barry pulled out, tipping an orange pill into his hand. As he took the pill and closed the bottle, returning it to his desk drawer, Barry turned around to realize Julian wasn't at his desk anymore but standing right beside him.

"Forgive me," Julian said with a small laugh that didn't suit him, though there was no humor in his eyes, "I'm just hoping to take one of your pens. I seem to have misplaced mine."

"S-sure thing," Barry stammered, opening his drawer again to pull out a pen.

As he opened the drawer, he couldn't help but notice Julian craning his head to see over his shoulder. Barry closed the drawer with an uneasy feeling in his stomach as he handed the other man a pen.

"Thanks," Julian clipped, a hint of disappointment in his voice as he turned and walked back to his desk.

"No problem," Barry whispered.

He frowned down at his desk. Julian, it seemed, was going to be even more of a problem than he initially thought.

Joe cursed as he was forced to bring his car to a crawling stop at a red light. He looked at his watch. Six-thirty!

He was supposed to get out of work at three, but as always, things didn't go according to plan. Joe let out an impatient sigh as he waited for the light to turn green. It didn't matter at this point. Caitlin had called. Barry had had his infusion hours ago and was now resting. And Joe was late. Again.

Barry had said it didn't matter to him if Joe wasn't there for his chemo, but Joe was determined to be there, even if it meant being there late.

As the light turned green, Joe was distracted by a buzzing in his pocket. He pulled out his phone.

Iris again.

She had called twice now, which was odd, considering he had just talked to her yesterday. Joe hit decline on the call. He didn't have time for another lengthy conversation with her. He had to get to STAR Labs.

Before Joe could even return his phone to his pocket, though, it started vibrating again.

"Man," he groaned as he looked at the screen, expecting it to be Iris again.

He was surprised to see it was actually someone else.

"Hi, Caitlin," Joe sighed, bringing the phone to his ear, "I just got out now, and traffic has been—"

"Hey, Joe," Caitlin said quickly, cutting him off, "I'm sorry but would you mind stopping by your house on your way over here?"

"Sure," Joe said, turning down a different street, "What does he need?"

"He's going to need his overnight bag," Caitlin answered softly.

Joe paused for a short moment.

"That bad?" he asked, his stomach clenching.

"This round's hitting him pretty hard," the doctor replied sadly, "I'm keeping him for observation."

"But he did so good last time," Joe said desperately, as he pulled into the driveway, "I thought his body was acclimating to the chemo now."

"I thought so, too," Caitlin sighed.

Joe ran a hand along his face as he turned his car engine off.

"Did Barry want me to bring him anything specific?" he said after a moment, getting out of his car.

He approached the front door with keys in hand only to find that Barry had left it unlocked.

"He hasn't been conscious for a while now," the doctor answered, though Joe hardly heard her.

He was frozen in the doorway, phone in one hand, keys in the other, eyes locked on the person across the room.

Iris was sitting at the dining room table, suitcase on the floor, arms folded across her chest as she stared at her father.

"Where is Barry?" she demanded, her nostrils flaring.

Joe closed the front door with a sigh.

"Caitlin, I have to call you back."