What Happens at the CCPD

It'll be Okay

pre lightning

**********

Six days.

It took them six days to find him. 

He was in the clutches of a maniacal psychopath for six days.

Singh lifted his head from his hands and looked at the unconscious boy in the hospital bed. 

"Damn it Barry," He whispered. 

He remembered it so clearly.

The first day he didn't show up, nobody paid much mind to it, assuming the boy had run off on another impossible case.

The second day, after no one had heard from him, people started to worry. Namely Joe and Singh. 

By the third day, he was officially missing. Everyone was pouring their efforts into helping find their missing forensic assistant. 

Three long days passed. They finally tracked him down. Singh nearly vomited when they burst through the basement doors to find Barry slumped in a chair, dead to the world (and quite possibly dead from the looks of him) and a mad man holding a whip, grinning creepily. 

He was dead now. 

Very very dead indeed. 

As far as the CCPD is concerned, he never existed. 

Barry was rushed into the ER. 

Words like critical condition, running out of time, and losing him rang in Singh's ears like a haunting echo. 

Singh reburied his face. 

"Damn it Barry," He whispered. 

***** LINE BREAK *****

Two and a half months later, Barry was deemed fit enough to go back to work.

He was staying with Joe, who never left his side the entire way to the precinct. And when the elevator opened, he had someone within three feet of him a all times. 

The first week, Barry understood it. The second week, he tolerated it. By the third week, he was just about to punch someone. Except Bree. She gave him brownies. And didn't act like he would break if she breathed too hard.

Everyone else was smothering him. Treating him like he was fragile. 

And Barry hated it. 

He couldn't believe it, but he missed people calling him the lab rat. He wished his boss would yell at him for being late. He wished Joe would smack him upside the head for saying something dorky.  He wished someone would shove papers at his chest like they used to. 

Finding an escape window, Barry snuck down to the training room. He promptly started punching a bag. He may not have had much force behind it, but it felt good to hit something. 

He got sweaty really fast and took his shirt off, tossing it on the bench as he sipped some water. 

Then he resumed punching the bag. 

He yelled in frustration as memories started to overwhelm him.

The whip cam down with a snap.

Punch.

His back felt like it was on fire.

Punch.

A maniacal laugh came with the pain.

Punch.

The pain continued.