Summary: (Spoilers for The Flash, episode 17) What if instead of hiding out in the Pipeline, Barry runs to Starling when he finds out about his dad? A grief stricken and fear ridden Barry ends up at the Arrowcave looking for Felicity for support, but comes upon Oliver instead.

Confusion Warning: All caught up on The Flash but for Arrow, I am only a few episodes after The Scientist and the rest of the Barry Allen episodes. I have also seen both of the other crossover episodes so yeah, kind of imagine this takes place in a world like that? Where all of The Flash episodes/events have taken place but not the ones of Arrow yet. Pardon me if I use terms and stuff that are outdated canonically, because they obviously will. So imagine this as Canon Divergence, I guess?

A/N: Over dramatic angst, hurt and comfort, and probably some (definitely some) OOC which is why it's so dramatic. The shipping is Olivarry (Oliver and Barry) but nothing really happens.

They've taken your father hostage, Barry.

It racked through him like a shockwave.

The room seemed to shift around him as Barry heard those words, and he quickly had to lean on the wall for support.

"No. No. Nonononono. That can't be, that can't-" Barry shook his head, his breath coming fast. His eyes were wide and his heart was racing. "That can't be right! It, it's someone else! It's not my dad, Joe!" Barry screamed into the comm's unit. "Joe, it's not my dad!"

A sigh sounded from the other line and Joe's voice was quiet. "It's him, Bear," he confirmed. "The Tricksters' took him as a bargaining chip with the police department. They thought that if they had someone close to the police force, we'd care more and stay away."

Barry shook his head. "No. No, this isn't possible. Check again. Check his cell, check the security footage, someone call him." He slammed his fist against the wall. "Someone go and check on Henry Allen because dammit! They did not. Take. My dad!"

"Barry," Professor Well's voice snapped. "Barry, calm down. Your vitals are showing decreased amounts of serotonin and norepinephrine. Your heart rate is faster than ever and you aren't even running. Mr. Allen," he said, his voice softer. "You need. To breathe."

Barry stopped a moment, his breath gone. It suddenly occurred to him that he had been hyperventilating. For a moment a calm settled over him, but the fear came back just as fast as it left.

"No! Stop, Professor Wells you can't," he gasped, "you can't be saying anything. You're not allowed to say anything. You're not-" He pressed his hands to his forehead.

"I can't what, Barry? Comfort you? Try to reassure you?" Professor Well's voice questioned. "I don't know how I'm supposed to talk to you at this moment Mr. Allen but you need to get a hold of yourself and come back to S.T.A.R. Labs. Once you do, we'll start tracking down the Tricksters and we will get your father back. Please Barry, believe me. You and your family's safety is my top priority."

Barry's breath hitched.

Your 'top priority'? He thought. Your TOP PRIORITY?! Was it your 'top priority' to keep my family safe when you conspired with the Man in Yellow? Was it your 'top priority' to set my father up to be put in jail? Was it your 'top priority' to help the Main in Yellow to kill my mother?! He seemed to be screaming at himself now, and his sorrow turned to anger.

"Barry, your vitals are all over the place. What did I just say? Calm do-" Before Professor Wells could go any further, Barry ripped away the earpiece. He then threw it to the floor before stomping on it. "No!" he yelled, his breathing picking up again. "Shut up. Shut up! You can't say anything! You're not allowed to!" His voice cracked on the last word, and he swallowed a lump down. This couldn't be happening. His dad couldn't have been taken hostage, he just couldn't.

Barry shook his head. I can't do this. Without a second thought, he ran out of the building.

He tore out of the building at an alarming speed (even for him) and made a sharp left turn. As he ran, the lights of Central blurred until they were stripes on a black background. The noises of car horns and people talking amongst themselves mixed together so cleanly, they sounded like an ocean wave. Soon, the landscape changed. The ground he ran on was dirt, and there were no buildings. Somewhere along the way, he passed by a 'Now Leaving: Central City' sign. He continued his run, gaining speed with each step as well.

'Top priority'. Hah, he thought, anger rising in his stomach. Professor Wells keeping his family safe? The irony and lies in that phrase were physically painful. He had no right to be saying things like that.

He's the reason this all happening. It's his fault that my mom is dead and that my dad's in jail. It's his fault that my dad was taken. It's all his fault. It's all his fault. It's-

Barry wiped at his eyes, shocked to find that they were damp with tears. Growling in frustration, he ran harder. His feet slammed against the pavement as he ran, and at the harder ground he looked up to realize the change in scenery. The city lights and busy streets returned, yet he only vaguely recognized them.

Without knowing why, he turned to the right and began running down that street. As he ran, his feet seemed to have a mind of their own, taking him down alleys and backroads. He continued on his way, until he looked up to see that he was about to run into a building. His eyes widened in fear, and he dug his heels into the ground to stop. He hit the wall at a manageable pace, and breathed a sigh of relief. He then proceeded to fall to the ground in a broken heap.

Barry lay down on the ground, trying to catch his breath. He was pretty sure that was fastest he had ran as of yet.

He was also pretty sure he was lying in a puddle.

Still lying on his back, Barry stared up at the sky in distress. His mind clouded with anxious thoughts of his father, and whether or not he could get him back in one piece. What if they thought he knew important information and tortured him? What if they couldn't get him back in time? What if they killed him?

What if he was already dead?

Barry's eyes squeezed shut at that, and he took in a deep breath. Yes that was definitely a possibility. For all he knew, Henry Allen may have been murdered as soon as he was taken away.

Barry felt a shudder wretch through him, and began to get up. What am I even doing here? he berated himself. I have no idea where I am, and I shouldn't even be here. I should be back in Central, trying to get my dad back.

No, he re-thought, bitterly. I should be back in Central, trying to find out what Wells has to do with my mom's murder. Barry slouched. I don't know what I should be doing.

He began walking in the direction of a small factory, now wondering why it looked familiar. As he got closer, he squinted to read the unlit sign on top of the building. "The Verdant" he breathed.

So that's where he was. Starling City, or to be more precise: the Arrowcave. It seemed that in his tribulation, he'd subconsciously taken himself to the hideout of the Arrow team.

Studying the club, Barry pondered to himself as to whether or not a certain Felicity Smoak was there. Or whether or not she was willing to listen to his problems.

You know what? the speedster finally thought to himself. Fuck it.

He dashed at the building.

Oliver set the bamboo staff back onto its stand, and ran a hand down his face.

Diggle and Felicity had both left 2 hours prior when all 3 had decided that no one was going to be attacking the city that night. Oliver had decided to stay behind however, stating that he promised Thea earlier that night to restock the shelves. In reality, he had just wanted to be left alone for a few more hours.

There was never a time where Oliver didn't want some time to himself. One would think that after being on a "deserted island" for 5 years that he would want to constantly be surrounded. But truthfully, that was rarely the case. Sure, there were a few good times with his loved ones where he was content with their company. But usually there was that small part of him that'd seek solitude. There was always that nagging part of him that would chide himself by saying he was putting his loved ones in danger, or that he was making their lives difficult.

He grabbed the bamboo staff again. A few more rounds wouldn't make a difference, right?

Turning back to the practice dummy, Oliver got into an offensive stance with his weapon. He took a few earnest breaths before finally hitting at it, the sounds echoing through the room. The bamboo staff hit it only twice however, before a gust of wind cut through the room. Papers spilled off the tables at the sudden draft, and Oliver turned to it in alarm. He held the staff in a defensive (yet still menacing) position and glared in the direction of the intruder.

"Woah! Easy!" it yelped, and Oliver swore the voice sounded familiar. Without missing a beat, he boomed, "Who are you? And how did you get here?" The intruder stuttered a moment, before answering. "I-I ran! From Central, Oliver it's me!" Before Oliver could question further, the figure stepped forward and into the light.

Barry Allen stared back at Oliver. He was dressed in his Flash costume, and his hood was pulled back to reveal his face. The suit was dirtied, with a few tears in the fabric that he thought that Cisco guy wouldn't be too fond of. His eyes were wide and his hands shaking, and he looked slightly afraid of the weapon Oliver held. With the way the younger man held himself and fidgeted, Oliver couldn't help but feel that there was something wrong.

Oliver lowered the bamboo staff, the wood feeling heavy in his grip. "Barry?"

The man in question smiled shyly. "The one and only." His shoulders relaxed a bit when he saw that Oliver had put his weapon down, yet he still looked tense. His body began to turn away from Oliver, and he crossed his arms lazily over his chest.

Oliver spoke. "Barry, what are you doing here?"

Barry turned to him in surprise, and backed away. "Nothing! Sorry..." he apologized, shaking his head. "I shouldn't have come here or... I should have at least called. I just..." his voice trailed off, and he turned away from Oliver.

The generators hummed in a low rumbling sound. The rafters creaked under the shifting of the building. Upstairs there was the sound of the stereo that someone left on. Every now and then one of the computers would let out a soft 'beep' and there was the occasional squeak of a mouse but other than that there was no sound.

Oliver kept waiting for Barry to speak again and break the silence. He kept waiting for him to say why he was there. He kept waiting for him to turn around and talk to him.

Barry continued to stay quiet. The speedster began to fidget, and his fingers were gripping his arms so hard Oliver thought he might bruise himself. Finally he broke the silence.

"Barry, is something wrong?"

In response, he saw Barry's shoulders shake. "Yeah. Well, no. But it's okay." he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Sorry I interrupted...whatever you're doing. I just came here looking for Felicity. I'll go now, I'm sorry." He began making his way towards the stairwell, and Oliver raced to stop him.

"Hold on," he grabbed the other man's arm, stopping him in his tracks. Barry stopped, his arm tensing in Oliver's grip.

"I know what it looks like when someone's lying," he whispered, "and I know what it looks like when someone's not okay, and needs to talk about it." He tightened his hold on Barry's arm. "What happened?"

Barry remained to be silent for a moment, before sighing and turning around. At the look on his face, Oliver felt like punching someone. The younger man's eyes were glassy with tears and he wore a pained expression. The whole world seemed to be burning out in his eyes and Oliver felt like he himself had been kicked.

"I don't know what to do," Barry breathed. "I-I...I don't," his voice cracked and he started to turn away. Oliver frowned and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, hey. It's fine, calm down. Just start from the beginning," he suggested. Barry looked back at him, this time his eyes more watery than before. His face was flushed and his shoulders shook.

"They...The Tricksters. They took my dad." Oliver's face fell.

"They took my dad as a hostage, because they believed that I, Barry Allen, would stop the police department from going after them because he's my dad and I-!" Barry's voice increased in volume, and his body began to shake more.

"I! I lost my-! My dad's been taken and it's all-! I didn't," Barry brought a hand to his face and covered his eyes. "Oh god, Oliver they took my dad. And he could be dead right now. He could have been dead hours ago and I couldn't save him! Not as Barry Allen and not as the Flash. God, and it's my fault!" He was leaning on one of the tables now, and holding his hands to his face like it would fall apart if he let go. His body was vibrating (Oliver had to stare. He was literally vibrating) and with each word he started to hyperventilate.

"Crap. Dammit. Fuck. It's my fault, it's my fault," he said through gritted teeth.

Watching Barry like this shocked Oliver. Sure, he knew the kid had his own problems to deal with; everyone had skeletons in the closet. He'd even seen him go through a rage mode the last time he visited Central. This however, was nothing like the Barry he knew. The Barry he knew had a light heart and was full of hope. Now he was scolding himself like he'd just murdered someone. The poor kid seemed like he was barely keeping himself together.

"Okay, okay. Calm down, Barry. Calm down..." Oliver hushed. "It's okay, just relax and tell my why you think this is your fault." He took a step towards Barry and wondered whether or not he should put an arm around. Is it okay to touch him when he's vibrating like that? He finally just decided to take a change and sit next to him. Looking at his shoulder, he hesitated before setting a hand on it. The sensation felt odd against his skin but it was worth it when the other man began to settle down. He was still hyperventilating though.

"Hey. Barry, come on. Control your breathing, you're going to throw up if you keep doing that."

Almost magically, the speedster's breathing began to slow down. He stopped vibrating and moved his hand away from his face so that he could look at Oliver. His eyes were red, but he didn't look like he'd been crying yet. His eyebrows were furrowed yet turned up and his cheeks were flushed.

"I...I..." No more words came out.

Oliver put an hand on each of Barry's shoulders now, and looked him in the eyes.

"It's okay. You're alright. Just breathe and tell me what's on your mind."

Oliver's voice was soft and comforting, and Barry found himself able to relax. Unable to meet his gaze however, he turned back to the floor.

"There was a bomb threat tonight," he began. His voice was quiet and hoarse, and Oliver had to lean in to hear.

"The copy-cat Trickster gave a general area of where he placed it so I checked there. God...I checked everywhere, sure that I would find it."

"And you did?" Oliver asked.

Barry shook his head. "That's the thing. After my first time looking for it, he," he bit back a growl, "Professor Wells, said something else might have been going on. He said to stop looking for the bomb. But I didn't listen. And then when I found the bomb it was too late. It was a fake. A distraction from what really happened. The copy-cat was breaking the original Trickster out of Iron Heights. And when they left, they took my dad as a hostage."

"I should have listened to him. If I did, I could have been there in time to stop him. But I didn't. I let him get away and now my dad," he slouched over. "And now it's all my fault."

Oliver shook his head. "Why do you think it's your fault? It doesn't sound like-"

"Because I didn't listen to him!" Barry snapped. "Professor Wells told me there was something wrong and I didn't listen! If I had, my dad would be here!" He was back to hyperventilating again, his chest heaving up and down.

"I- I...I could have stopped them... I could have-! I should have listened-! I-! Why'd I?!" Barry jumped away from the table and began pacing around the room, hands running through his hair.

"If- If I had just listened to him! None...none- none of this would be happening! This...is all. My. Fault!" Barry was delirious now and Oliver watched the other man in shock.

"Oh god oh god oh god. My dad's been...dammit I did this- I- I..." he stopped and started to hyperventilate, and took a seat on the ground. "Damn...it...dammit!"-he gasped between breaths-"Dammit, it's my fault!"

"Woah! Hey, hey!" Oliver got up from the table and made his way to Barry. He knelt in front of the speedster and took his head in his hands. "Barry look at me," he whispered.

Barry stopped shaking and looked at Oliver with wide eyes.

"Barry," he began, "what happened to your dad is not your fault. It's no one's fault but the Tricksters'."

Barry continued to stare at Oliver. "No...it wasn't. I didn't listen, I-"

"No. Stop that," Oliver chided, "Professor Wells wouldn't even have been able to tell you what was happening. There was no way you could have stopped it." He pulled Barry close to him now, and hugged the younger man. "It's not your fault, Barry."

Barry froze in Oliver's hug, before falling apart and wrapping his arms around him. The tears began to fall on their own accord, sliding down Barry's cheeks as he stared at the wall behind Oliver.

"I don't want him to die," Barry finally confessed. Oliver patted Barry on the back, nodding his head.

"I know."

"My mom's already dead and... I don't... I don't..."

"You don't want your dad to die, too."

Barry nodded. "I want to stay a son. I want my parents to be alive. I don't- I don't want to be an orphan..." Barry shook his head, and hid his face in the crook of Oliver's neck.

Oliver nodded his head. "It's okay. You'll get your father back." Barry continued to silently cry, hiding his face as to not look Oliver in the eye. His body gently trembled with sobs, and Oliver continued to rub his back. "You'll get your father back. I promise. And Professor Wells, he'll help you."

Barry's arms suddenly tightened around Oliver. "Don't. Don't mention Professor Wells. Please don't."

"'Don't'? Why?"

"It's hard to explain."

"I'll try to understand."

Barry was quiet, only responding by squeezing Oliver tighter. Finally he spoke.

"Professor Wells isn't who he's been saying he is," he began. "He- he had something to do with my mom's murder, 15 years ago." Oliver raised an eyebrow.

"We, Joe and I, believe he's been conspiring with the man who killed her," Barry gulped. "The Man in Yellow; a man with abilities just like mine. He killed my mother and... and..." He stopped to catch his breath as the tears came again. This time they dripped onto Oliver's neck, warm against his skin. Barry's hands balled into fists against Oliver's back as he wept.

"I- I didn't want to- to believe it," he sobbed, a shudder going through him. "Joe told me not to trust him, multiple times. And I didn't, didn't believe him. God I was so. Stupid."

"No, no don't think that. You're not 'stupid' for wanting to believe that he was good."

Barry shook his head. "No, Oliver. I am. It was obvious; Joe saw it. Cisco saw it. I didn't," he whispered. "I just... I just so easily believed him."

Oliver was rubbing small circles on Barry's lower back now and had him pressed close to his chest. "Well, maybe you wanted to believe."

Barry was silent.

"Maybe," Oliver continued, "you saw it there. You thought in the back of your head, 'I don't trust him' but you suppressed it. Maybe it was easier to believe what was better than it was to see what was wrong."

Barry shook his head. "But why would I-"

"Because Barry," Oliver persisted. He moved his arms up to Barry's shoulders and pulled him away until he could see his face. The younger man stared at him with red, watery eyes and a tight lip.

"You see the best in people. You wanted to believe Professor Wells was a good guy because what you saw in him was good. He's a man of science and Barry, you love science. Of course you saw the good things he's done, the advancements he's helped made, the people he's probably saved.

"You believed in Harrison Wells because you see the best in everyone, and he was no exception. It's not because you're 'naive' or 'weak', but because you're good. That's why you were able to see what was good even in Harrison Wells."

That's why you were able to see the good even in me.

Oliver moved his hands up to cradle Barry's face.

"You are not stupid for believing Harrison Wells. What you are, is someone people should aspire to be. You might have super speed, but your real power is seeing what's good in others. You, Barry Allen, are exceptional."

Barry stared at Oliver in shock, and Oliver went to wipe his eyes. "You'll get your father back," he whispered, tilting Barry's head down. He placed a soft kiss against his hairline and moved his hands back down to hug him. The younger man immediately wrapped his arms around Oliver.

"Thank you," he murmered.

Oliver smiled, still rubbing his hand on Barry's back. "You're welcome."

I feel horrible for stealing Joe's talk with Barry and giving it to Oliver. Joe's the best, but I really wanted to write something like this. As I mentioned in the beginning of this story, people were out of character, over-dramatic angst, and zero to no fluff.

Like if you enjoyed the story anyways, and please comment to tell me about what you liked and disliked! Be honest and even brutal.