So this is for the guest from Pain Management who asked me to do something with a drugged Barry and Oliver. I'm not sure this is what you had in mind, but it's what i came up with. WARNING: attempted rape - NOT graphic - bad language, but that's about it. Here you go :)

Barry was stumbling around the construction site. He wasn't in his suit, but that hardly mattered since he had stopped being able to run a good hour or so ago. The world was spinning, and he didn't know where he was or how he got there, just that his arm really hurt and his back was wet.

He had puked at least twice already, and he was pretty sure the guy at the bar had put something in his drink, but apparently said guy wasn't expecting the guy he was trying to date rape to disappear and suddenly be fifty yards away. Barry remembered that much, and then it was a blur.

He had left, right? Where was he? Barry tripped over a pipe, fell to his knees. The world jolted around him and he clutched at his head, squeezing his eyes shut. How'd he get here? Where was he? Barry opened his eyes again, tried to make sense of things. His thoughts were slipping around him like water, and he was desperately trying to grab onto them. Cisco, Caitlin. The bar. The guy – nice smile, nice eyes – he bought him a drink and he had watched it, had watched him, like every cautionary speech told him to. He hadn't seen him put anything in it, but here he was, on the ground God knows where, trying to get the world to stop spinning.

Barry got back up. Where was he? Construction site. What? He looked around, tried to find someone, thought vaguely that speeding out to the edge of the city maybe wasn't the best idea. He looked for someone, anyone. His heart was thudding too fast, and he was hot, sweating, so hot. His jacket was gone. Where was it? He spun in a circle, looked dumbly at the ground, like he expected to find it there. Looked back up. Right, find someone. Find a police officer. I've been drugged. No, haven't been drinking. Alcohol didn't affect him. So why the hell did this?

Phone. Right. Phone. Joe. Caitlin. Cisco. Someone. He shoved his hands in his pockets. His hands were shaking. He could barely get them in there. Where was he? No phone. Back pocket? No. No phone. He wanted his phone. He wanted to go home. Where was he? Was the phone in his jacket? Where was his jacket? He didn't remember taking it off. Had the guy taken it? Had he taken his phone? He needed his phone.

He kept stumbling around. His arm hurt. It hurt a lot. What had happened? The guy. Drugs. He had panicked. Why did his arm hurt? He wasn't facing bad guys, no meta humans. Did the guy do it? He didn't remember.

What time was it? Would Joe notice he was gone? He had to work tomorrow. He'd be late. He was always late. Where was he? Right. The bar. The guy. Caitlin. Cisco. Why didn't he have his jacket on?

He had made his way over to a fence. He stopped, looked up. There was concrete to his right. That's where he went instead. Concrete. City. There was more concrete in the city. Maybe he could follow it back. His hands were shaking bad now. His arm hurt. His hands hurt too. He was hot, too hot. He wanted to go home. His back was sticky. Wet. His shirt stuck to him. Where was his jacket? His arm hurt. He was breathing too fast. It made his chest ache, his head spin. He felt like he couldn't breathe.

He looked down. His hands were vibrating. He stared at them. He hadn't been able to run for a while now, but somehow his hands were vibrating. He looked at them. No. Stop. He couldn't make them. Someone would see.

Barry started to cry. Someone would see, someone would see. And now he couldn't get a police officer, couldn't get someone to take him home. He couldn't make his hands stop vibrating and it was starting to hurt. It hurt his arm more and it hurt his wrists and his hands. The tremors moved into his shoulders, down his legs.

Barry opened his eyes. Dark walls, sky, bad smell. He was in an alleyway. He was lying on something. He moved a little. Trash bags. Looked up. City. Buildings. He was on top of trash bags. Where was the construction site?

He stood up. Sticky back. Hurt arm. The world was still spinning. It wasn't supposed to spin. Drugs. Guy. The bar. He started to stumble away, looked down, checked his hands. Shaking, but not vibrating. Police. I was drugged. No, haven't been drinking.

No, no hospital. Caitlin. He needed Caitlin. They'd take him to a hospital. Phone. Front pockets, back pockets, no jacket. No phone. Pay phone. He stumbled some more. Couldn't find one. Could barely see – too dark, even with the street lamps. There was light on the buildings. Buildings. City. Could he run?

He ran to the top of a building. He could run. Then he threw up. He sat on the ground, or the roof. His arm hurt. It hurt more now. Running hurt. Vibrating hurt. He lay down on his back, thought that might help. It was getting worse. The trembling was worse. He was shaking. He was breathing too fast. He couldn't breathe. Oh, God, he was dying. He was going to die. On a roof. In the city.

No. He was in the city. He sat up. City. Caitlin. Cisco. Joe. He ran.

He was on the ground, on the street. Where was he? He wandered down it. There were people. Stores. Someone looked at him. Whispers. He was stuttering, shaking. Not police. Had to be Caitlin. No hospitals. Drugged. Vibrating. Couldn't let them see.

"Hey kid, you alright?"

There was a hand on his shoulder. Barry jerked away.

"You alright, kid?"

Barry mumbled, stuttered, backed up into the wall, hit a post on his way.

"Your arm doesn't look too good there."

Mumbled some more. Hurt.

"Kid, you got someone I can call?"

There were more than one of them now. They were backing him into a wall. Sweat beaded on his forehead, clung to his hair. He was shaking and hot and it was cold and hot and he couldn't breathe.

"I'm gonna get you an ambulance."

Shook his head. No. Bar. The guy. No police. Wanted police. Arm hurt. No hospitals. Couldn't breathe.

"Kid?"

He was gone, somewhere else. He didn't know. Knew he had been running, didn't know where. It was dark. Another roof? Not sure. Couldn't breathe. Was the guy there? Where was the guy? Hospitals? Ambulence? Where was he? Was he taking him to a car? To a closet? An alleyway? Where was he? Was the guy there? Had he left? What happened?

"Barry."

He spun. He was on a roof. No costume. The guy? Had he told him his name? Had Caitlin said it? Had he? He took a step back.

"Jesus, Barry, why aren't you answering your phone?"

Green. Hood. Bow. Arrow. It was Arrow. No, Oliver. No, both. Arrowoliver. Good. Arrow. Oliver. Safe. Caitlin. Had to get to Caitlin. Drugs.

Barry tried to talk, couldn't make sense of the words. What was he saying? What was Oliver? He swayed, tripped, stumbled to the side. Arrowoliver stopped.

"Are you OK, Barry?" Slower. Slower words. That was good. Slow was good. He couldn't breathe. Where was the guy?

Oliver moved closer. Barry backed away, afraid suddenly. It was Oliver right? Why was he here? What had he done? Training? Was this training, was he going to shoot him in the back? His back hurt. Sticky. Wet. His arm hurt more. He didn't want to get shot with arrows too.

"Barry, what happened?" Oliver asked, and his voice was firmer, careful.

"Guy," he said. Heard himself say. He tripped going backwards, landed hard. Ow. Hurt. Arm hurt. Arm really hurt.

"What guy?" Oliver asked. Arrowoliver. He walked a little closer. Barry pushed himself backwards. His back hit something. He stopped, curled up, knees pressed to his chest.

"Bar," he said, "Guy. At the bar."

Oliver looked at him funny, face screwed up. Confused? Maybe. Scared? Barry was scared. Why was Arrowoliver scared? He had a bow. He could shoot you in the back during training before you even knew what was going on.

"What happened with the guy at the bar?" Oliver asked. He was squatting down next to him, a couple feet away. Barry pressed harder back against the surface behind him.

"Drugs."

"He was selling drugs?"

He shook his head.

"He drugged you?"

Nodded.

Oliver pushed a hand up, pushed off the hood and ran it through his hair. "OK," he said, "OK, I'm going to take you back to Star labs, Barry."

Star Labs. Star labs, yes. Good. Caitlin.

Oliver moved closer, tried to grab his arm. Barry jerked back, banged his elbow against metal behind him. Pain. Hurt. Hurt bad. He screamed. Kept hurting. Couldn't breathe. Vibrating. God, made it worse. Stop. Stop, please. Couldn't stop vibrating. Hurt. Hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt.

"Barry, calm down." Oliver tried to take his arm, his wrist, tried to steady it and Barry pulled back. No. Hurt. He had a flash of him on the bed, Caitlin setting bones, washing out cuts. That hurt. Hurt more. He didn't want to do that. He didn't want Oliver to do that.

"No," he said, gripping his arm to his chest, and it hurt, hurt, hurt.

"OK, OK," Oliver said, putting his hands up. "Can you come with me, Barry?"

He shook his head.

"We're going to Star Labs, remember?"

Nodded.

"Caitlin will figure out what's wrong with you."

"Hurts."

"Your arm?"

Nod.

"She can fix that too."

She could fix it. She could fix it. Yes. Yes, she'd fix it. He got up. Oliver watched him. When he got close Barry shuffled away, so Oliver led him to a staircase a good five feet away from him. Oliver had his phone out, and phone. No phone. Where was his jacket?

Soon Barry was inside a van. No. The van. Star labs. How had he gotten there? Then he was inside, in Star labs. And yes, yes, this was good. Good. He relaxed a little.

Cisco walked inside with them, keeping the same distance from Barry. He was walking, dazed, until they finally got into the medical room, where Caitlin was.

"Barry," she said, "are you alright? What happened?"

"He was drugged," Oliver said. Barry just walked in, looked around. It was so bright.

"Oh," Caitlin said, surprised. She walked towards him. "Barry, can you lie down for me?"

Barry jumped back, looked frantically at Oliver.

"She's going to fix it," he prompted.

He looked back at her. Right. Drugs. Guy. Fix it. He followed her to the bed, lay down on top of it.

As soon as she tried to touch him, he jerked his arm back, leaning into the corner of the bed, as far away from her as possible.

"Barry, I just need a blood sample," Caitlin said.

"No."

"It's OK, Barry, it's –"

"Hurts."

"Only for a second, Barry, I promise."

"N-no," he said, and he was scared, terrified, hyperventilating. Oliver moved over to him.

"She has to do it to fix you up," Oliver said.

Barry shuddered.

"Can you let her, Barry?" Oliver asked, "It'll be one second, then she can find out what's wrong."

"No-o," Barry whined. He didn't want the needle. It hurt. His arm already hurt. Why did everything hurt?

"Barry, I really need to check you out," Caitlin said. Barry shuddered, shook his head. Oliver reached down, touched his shoulder.

He jerked back again, but that forced him to move towards Caitlin, and he didn't want that, so he pressed back again, slunk down, tried to somehow get away from both of them, started crying again when he couldn't.

"It's OK, Barry," Oliver, said, hand on his shoulder. Caitlin had his arm.

"No," he said, whined, dragged it out. No, he didn't want to. There was a prick. He screamed, upset and afraid and angry. It didn't really hurt. He barely felt it, but the prick itself set off the dominoes in his brain, sent everything falling.

"I'm going to analyze this," Caitlin said. She was sticking an IV in and no, no he didn't want it. He didn't want more needles and tubes and IV's. He wanted to sleep.

Sometime later Caitlin was back and Barry looked up because Oliver said she would fix this and he wanted the thoughts to stop spinning, for his head to go clear. She had a shot in her hands.

"I think this should do it," she said, "at least it should help – I'm still not sure what he gave him or why it's affecting him so much. Usually he'd burn right through it, but he's not for some reason."

"No," Barry said, but Oliver was rubbing his shoulder and then Caitlin had his arm and ow.

They stared at him expectantly. Barry stared back. His arm felt weird. His arm with the shot. His other arm just hurt. Then his head started to feel weird, fuzzy. Barry started to hyperventilate, sweat dripping down his forehead, the sides of his face. His hands started shaking.

And then the fuzziness was backing off, clearing up a little and he felt weird, really weird, but mostly anxious, his heart still hammering away.

"What did you do?" Barry asked. His memories were still fuzzy, but his understanding of them was returning. But Barry was still sweating and he felt sick all of a sudden.

Caitlin watched the monitors. "Shit."

"What?" Oliver asked, turning towards him.

"His nervous system is on hyper drive – that shouldn't happen with this," she said, half to herself.

"What does that mean?" Oliver asked.

"It means he didn't roofie him," Caitlin said, spinning back towards her lab. "I treated him for that – gave him something to speed up his systems to get rid of it faster – but he must have used some other drug."

"Do you know which?"

She shook her head, was back at a tablet and her microscope.

"O-Oliver," Barry said.

Oliver turned. Barry was gripping the table with white knuckles, all his muscles tense, staring with abject terror at Oliver.

"Hey," he said, "easy. Calm down."

"C-can't," Barry said, his teeth chattering. He was freezing and sweating like crazy but his head felt hot.

"Alright, just relax," Oliver said, putting a hand on his knee, looking back at Caitlin.

"Can't –" Barry closed his eyes. "It hurts," he said, his voice strained, holding his arm in close to his chest. He was vibrating now, his whole body shaking on the table.

"Let me see," Oliver said, but Barry whimpered when he tried to touch it, winced and flinched away.

"Do you have a brace?" Oliver called to Caitlin.

She looked up. "Second cabinet to the left. That has to be set first."

Well, fuck. Oliver looked back at Barry. "Bar, this is going to hurt for a second," he said.

Barry's eyes widened, he pushed himself back, tore his arm away from Oliver's hands.

"No," he said, "no – it's fine – it – it'll be fine."

"Barry," Oliver said carefully, "let me see it."

"No."

"Barry."

"No – just – just – n-no no no I – I-I"

"Shh," he said, "Hey, relax. Deep breaths, Barry."

"I can't," he said loudly, still hyperventilating and there were tears at the corners of his eyes, frustrated and overwhelmed. "I c-can't breathe."

"Yes you can," Oliver said carefully. He shot a look behind him at Felicity. "You just need to slow down."

Barry frowned and the vibrating slowed, stopped for a moment, and then went back twice as fast. "Hurts," Barry gasped, "hurts and I can't – it hurts when I try to stop, and it's hard – hard to do."

"Alright, well try and slow down your breathing there then."

Barry shook his head. "Can't breathe."

"You're breathing fine."

"Not enough – no oxygen."

"You're getting plenty, Barry."

"Not enough – not – for me – and the vibrating."

"Cait!" Oliver said, turning. She didn't even look up.

"He's getting plenty of air. It's in his head."

"Barry, you're breathing fine you just need to relax," Oliver said, turning back to him.

Barry trembled, looked down at him.

Oliver had managed to get his hands around his arm, moving his palm from his knee to his leg and finally to his wrist, rubbing in a soothing motion, and now he had a good grip on it.

"Ow!"

There was a snap, a pop, and then silence.

"Barry?"

Barry was staring at nothing, eyes glazed over, trembling, breathing coming in shallow gasps now, his face grey.

"Hey, Barry, don't pass out on me," Oliver said, suddenly worried.

"Oh, God," Barry said.

Oliver got the brace out and came back but Barry pulled his arm away.

"Let me see your arm," Oliver said.

"No – i-it's fine."

"I'm going to put it in a brace."

"It's fine like this. It'll heal fine."

"Barry, let me see your arm."

"N-no."

Oliver stared at him, couldn't figure out what to do with Barry like this.

"Barry it won't hurt, I just have to stabilize it."

Barry stared at him like he was a doctor holding a shot you won't feel a thing.

"It's to help," he tried, "with the vibrating – make it hurt less when you shake."

Barry tentatively held out his arm, winced when Oliver strapped the brace on.

"It's OK?" he asked, looking down at his arm.

"Yeah, I set the bone."

"But it's good now?"

"Yeah, Barry."

"There's no – no damage – no – nothing Cait will have to fix later – nothing – you know, they need surgery sometimes and – and did Cait check it? With a scanner?"

"I'm sure I's fine, Barry," Oliver said.

Barry shook his head, looking down at it still. "But – I don't – if I – they still don't have any anesthetics that work on me – a-and – and –"

"Barry, you need to calm down," Oliver said.

"Cait," Barry said, his voice escalating, calling over to her.

"I'm sure it's fine, Barry – you heal up naturally very well."

"Can you check," he said, and his voice was laced with anxiety, "Can you check – please – to make sure."

"I'm a little busy right now, Barry – I'll check it in a minute."

Barry shook where he sat. Everything was spinning. It felt like there was no air but he was sucking in breath like he was drowning. He could put the pieces together better now, but it was all fading in a haze of anxiety, of nameless fear and getting jumbled and disorientated again.

He was hyperventilating, air coming in gasps, and he shut his eyes. "I-I think it's bad – oh, God, it's going to be bad – it's going to be shattered and torn or – or – it hurts, it really hurts – it doesn't usually hurt this much – it didn't when I broke my hand it has to be wrong – it has to – you had to set it so it was already wrong and I can't do surgery I can't, shit, fuck, what do I? I'm gonna have to be awake – you guys will cut into me while I'm awake – I'll probably pass out, right? I'll pass out right away, probably, but, shit – I – that's gonna – God I can't –"

"Barry," Oliver said, speaking calmly, but firm, "you're freaking yourself out. Relax."

"I can't," he said, "I can't – it's – I havn't been this bad since my mom died – the – nightmares and panic attacks and – and this is worse and I don't – why? Why is this happening? What's going on?"

"You were drugged," Oliver said, "Caitlin gave you something to counteract it but it didn't work – now you're anxious. She's working on something to fix it right now."

"The bar," Barry said, "the guy – I don't – I don't even remember his name – he just – what – what did he give me?"

"We're not sure."

Barry started to shake worse. "What if it does something? What – what if – he – oh my God he was going to rape me – he was – if I didn't – a year ago I would have – oh my God – oh my God oh my God omygod omygod omygodomygo-"

"Barry," Oliver said, putting both his hands on Barry's knees, snapping him out of it, "you're fine. He didn't. You're fine."

Barry stared at him. "I watched the drink," he said, "I watched the drink – I didn't see anything – I – I – he – oh my God, the van – he had a van – he had a freaking van Oliver he was going to – oh my God – fucking – he – oh my God – h-he – the van – a-and I was r-right there – and – and – h-he h-had –"

"Barry," Oliver said, "you're fine. Take a deep breath. You're OK."

"I'm gonna pass out," Barry said, and he sure looked like it too.

"Lie down," Oliver said. Somewhere along the way he had sat up, legs over the bed.

"OK – OK," Barry said, and Oliver helped him, guided him down because he was half afraid he'd fall off the thing if he didn't. His face was white and his hands were clammy, shaking. His eyes were still glazed looking, panic-stricken, but then they sparked again and he was leaning forward, grabbing onto Oliver with his good hand.

"Oliver – Oliver what if I don't remember – what if I don't remember, if I don't remember and I went in and it was too late and I don't because the drug and what if I – what if I don't remember and he –"

"Barry," Oliver said, grabbing both his shoulders. "You are fine. Nothing happened to you. He didn't do anything to you."

"But I don't – I don't remember everything I don't – I don't – I – I –"

"You are panicking," Oliver said, "you need to take deep breaths, and calm down for a minute. And then I need you to think. Tell me what you do remember."

"Bar," Barry said, "I was – he was nice – he bought be a drink – a-and Caitlin was gone – she – I don't know I think she was talking to another guy – a-and I watched him – and the drink – and then – then I don't know – I felt funny and he – he took my arm and then – outside – a-and v-a-an and – a-and"

"Barry," Oliver said, "deep breaths. Calm down. You're OK. Just tell me what happened."

Barry nodded, swallowed hard. "I – he – I-I think – alley? Maybe I – a little ways away? And – no – no, he took my arm and I felt weird and then we were getting closer – and – and I looked around and no one was there, and I – I said wait, and he – he – I think – no, he pushed me – and then – I got scared and I don't – I don't – no, I ran, and then I was across the street."

"Alright," Oliver said, letting out a breath. "See, you do remember. You're alright. Nothing happened."

And Barry breathed in, and yes, yes, he was OK because the memories were becoming clearer. The ones of later were still fuzzy and fragmented, but those first fifteen minutes or so were pretty clear – the bar, the alley, and then he had run all the way to the edge of the city – he remembered doing that – of panicking and getting as far away as possible – but after that was blank except for a few vague images of running back and forth on sidewalks, of throwing up, and then not being able to run, of walking, wandering, and then the construction site. He still didn't know what happened to his jacket or his phone.

"I – oh my God that's – I can't – I can't believe –"

"It's OK, Barry," Oliver said.

"I lost my phone," Barry said numbly.

"You can get a new one."

"I couldn't run for a while."

"You can now, you're fine."

"Oh my God – but – I wasn't – I wasn't – a-and what – what was the drug? It could happen again – what if – and what if you can change it and what if a meta found out and gave it to me and I didn't even notice this time and I watched – I watched – what if – oh my God anyone could – Oliver – anyone could I could – I could-"

"Barry," Oliver said, holding his hands up, "You need to calm down."

"I can't – God – fuck – Oliver, I can't – what if – oh my God –"

"Barry," Oliver said, "stop thinking. Stop talking. Focus on breathing, OK? Just breathing. Don't think."

"How am I suppose-"

"Shh," Oliver said, "No talking. Breathing. Just. Breathing."

Barry shut his mouth but his eyes kept darting around and Oliver needed to think, had to get him to shut up for two seconds.

"Find anything, Cait?" Oliver asked, calling back over to her.

She was still standing around the equipment, Felicity next to her, Cisco running around grabbing stuff. Wells was with Caitlin, analyzing something and studying it on a computer. They had called Joe too, but after learning Barry was fine, if currently under the influence of something, he had been rushed off to a shooting site across town.

"My arm hurts," Barry said.

"Breathing," Oliver responded.

"I am breathing. I'd be dead if I wasn't breathing. I'm breathing too much – I'm hyperventilating and I can't sto-"

"No talking," Oliver said again, and felt the unprecedented desire to clap his hand over his mouth. "Deep breathing. No hyperventilating."

"I ca-"

"Breathing."

Barry gave him an irritated, scowling look, and then made a few exaggerated breaths. Oliver looked back over.

"Cait?"

"Isolating on neurotransmitters."

"English?"

"Figuring out which chemicals it's affecting." Without looking up she added, "Cisco – blood sample."

"What?" he said, stopping mid-run to another shelf. "I can't – you're the doctor – you do the pokey needle things – I just make the guns and stuff!"

"Blood sample," she repeated, "find a vein and stick it in – it's not that hard."

"For you," he said.

"He has good veins," Caitlin said, exasperated, "just get a syringe and stick it at the blue part."

"But –"

"God help me, Cisco –"

"Fine!"

Oliver turned around to find Barry sitting up again, wide eyes and knuckles white on the counter, and Oliver had just enough time to groan before he started talking.

"Wait – wait – Cisco's – Cait, he can't – no – he's gonna – he's gonna fish around – Cait!"

"Deep breaths," Oliver said again, strained. God, it was like talking to a five year old on a sugar rush.

"No, no, no, no," Barry said, backing up on the bed as Cisco came down, "you are not a doctor – you are not – Cait! Cait he's going to hurt me! He'll burst an artery or something – what if – oh my God – Cait you can't – Cisco – if something goes wrong – if something goes wrong and what if – what if the drug makes me anemic – makes it not clot or something did you check for that – I could bleed out – I could – is it sterile – did you check? It's gonna hurt – my arm hurts worse than normal – what if it makes me more susceptible to pain? You guys can't do this when I'm – and especially – and my arm – my broken one – the left has better veins – you always take it from the left and it'll have to be the right and what if the drug makes them shrink and I'm cold – that can do it – is it really – do I really –"

Make that a five year old on a sugar rush who was terrified of everything.

"Barry," Oliver said, "Cisco's going to do fine. You're not anemic. You're blood clots fine. It will only take a second."

But Barry was staring at the needle and Cisco was smiling, trying to get him to relax, but Barry was shaking his head.

"No – you don't know that – it could – no – no needles, come on – I hate needles – you already stuck me twice – I have an IV in – I hate IV's – can I – I want it out – can't you just – I don't know get it from there – not – wait – Cisco – wait – hey, hold on, wait – stop, wait!"

Oliver had his arm and Cisco was holding under his elbow, squinting, but the there was a vein right there, not hard at all.

"Let go," Barry said, jerking and growing more and more agitated, panicked. "No – no, come on – don't!"

"Don't look," Oliver said, but Barry's eyes were glued to it.

"No – no, please." His lips drew back as he clenched his teeth, shook.

"Barry," Oliver said, and his eyes finally snapped up. "It takes one second. Look at me. Deep breaths, remember – hey – eyes stay here – Barry, breathe. In – come on."

Barry jumped when Cisco got the needle in, but he had it on the first try and quickly got the sample. He ran back up with it to Caitlin.

"I feel sick," Barry said, "what if it makes me sick?"

"Barry, you're fine," Oliver said.

"I was drugged."

"Yes."

"He was going to rape me."

"Barry –"

"He's probably still there."

"Barry –"

"What if he gets someone else – what – oh God, this is all my fault – I have to get there – I have – Joe – call Joe – tell him – I don't – um, he was tall and – shit. Um, fuck, I don't remember. Brown hair – I think but – it was dark – um –"

"Barry, we'll worry about that later," Oliver said.

"Well, it's decreasing," Caitlin said.

"What is?" Oliver asked.

"The traces of the drug – but I can't – I think it's a mixture of something – give me two minutes."

"I wanna go home," Barry said, and suddenly everything was spinning and he couldn't breathe and he couldn't think and his arm hurt and he was cold and sweating and he felt sick, feverish, and he didn't like this, he didn't like this at all.

"I'll take you home as soon as we figure out what he gave you," Oliver said.

"I wanna go home now."

There were tears now in the corners of his eyes and Oliver didn't know what to do with a crying Barry but here he was in front of him, terrified and miserable and drugged and Oliver just sighed.

"Why don't you lie down, kid," he said gently.

Barry shook his head and his arm still hurt and he didn't want to lie down, he wanted to go home. He wanted to go home right then.

"Cisco," Oliver called, and Barry didn't hear what he said because he was trying not to cry and he was still shaking and he felt weird, he felt all funny and he thought it was getting worse and he didn't like it at all.

"Alright, just lie back," Oliver said when he returned, and there was a pillow under Barry's head and Barry didn't want to lie down but he was tired and he felt weak and Oliver had a blanket and Barry grabbed at it because he was freezing, shivering.

"I don't feel good," he mumbled.

"Caitlin's working on it."

Barry started shaking again. "I do-don't w-want a-another sho-ot," he said brokenly, mouth wavering.

"Who said anything about a shot?" Oliver said. He put a hand down on Barry's shoulder, rubbing gently.

"She's g-gonna give me a-another shot," he said.

"No one's giving you a shot right now, just relax."

"I wanna go home."

"Yeah, I know, Bar."

"I wanna go home now."

"Just once Cait figures this out."

"I feel sick."

"That's the drug."

"Shaky."

"You're nervous."

"Scared."

"You're OK."

"I don't feel OK."

"That's just the drug. You're fine."

"I'm scared."

"I know, Barry."

"That guys still there."

"Don't think about the guy, Barry."

"He's going to get away. I don't want to go to the station – oh God, I really don't want to go to the station they'll ask questions and half the people there don't even know I'm bi and I hate explaining it and I don't want to talk about it with one of them but I can't just – I barely remember what he looks like and I can't just let him get away he could do it to someone else."

"I'll take care of it, Barry."

"No, you'll kill him."

"I won't kill him."

"You're just saying that."

"I promise I won't kill him, Barry."

"I was terrified."

"Don't think about him. It's done. You won't ever see him again."

"Because you'll kill him."

"No because I will ensure he winds up in jail."

"I really wanna go home now."

"Right after Cait checks you out."

"I d-don't want a sho-ot," he said again, stressed this time, like Oliver wouldn't listen to him.

"Maybe she can put it in the IV."

"My arm still hurts."

"It'll feel better soon."

"I feel sick. I feel really sick and I wanna go home now." And there were the tears again and Oliver felt like he was dealing with a five year old, and had to remind himself that this was Barry and he had had an awful night and was currently drugged and not thinking coherently, and then he felt like shit for being annoyed with him in the first place because the kid almost got raped for God's sake – he was allowed to be upset and a little irrational and Oliver felt like a jerk.

"Almost, Bar, I promise," he said, trying to be gentler now.

"OK," Caitlin said, going up to them, a syringe in hand, something filled in it.

"No," Barry said, shooting a look up at Oliver as soon as he saw it, "no – no I don't want a shot – no."

"You'll feel better afterwards," Oliver said.

"No, Oliver, no – please, I don't – no"

Oliver grabbed his arm when he tried to pull it back and Barry yelled, started crying hard, trying to tug his arm out of Oliver's grasp while he held it still.

"Stop – let go – stop!"

Caitlin injected him and he cried out, jerking his arm back as soon as Oliver let it go, sending him angry, betrayed looks.

"It's to help you," Oliver said.

"It hurt."

Oliver just sighed.

"How do you feel?" Caitlin asked.

Barry turned to her, but his eyes unfocused a little bit. He frowned, screwed his mouth up.

"Weird."

"Weird how?"

"Weird… I don't know… I don't like it."

Barry's eyes stayed unfocused, and then he started to shiver, pulling his arms in. He frowned, got a concentrating look on his face.

"What is it?" Oliver asked.

"I don't… I feel… I don't like it."

"What don't you like?" Caitlin asked.

"I dunno," Barry mumbled, rubbing his hands over his arms, "feels… ow." He brought one hand to his head, wincing. "Head hurts… feel sick… feverish…" He kept frowning, cringing and looking all over the place, like everything was simultaneously confusing and unnerving.

"Do you feel any better?" Caitlin asked.

Barry shrugged. "No… maybe clearer… I don't… I'm tired." He started to slump, eyes drooping. "Head hurts," he mumbled, "tired… can I go home now?"

"In a little bit," Oliver said.

"You promised you'd take me home," Barry said, but his voice was weak now, his eyes foggy, exhausted, "I'm tired."

"Can you remember things better now?" Caitlin asked.

Barry shrugged. "Yeah, I think so… I dunno, Cait, I'm too tired."

"Do you feel more relaxed?" Oliver tried.

"Yeah," Barry said, "I think so. I still wanna go home. I feel really weird, it's too much to think about – and I -" He frowned. "I'm… how are you gonna… take care of him?"

"Don't worry about it," Oliver said.

"But I…" he shuddered, started to get that nervous look again, "I don't… I…"

"Barry," he said, "we'll talk about it when you're better. But I'll take care of it, don't worry."

"OK," Barry said, giving into the idea for now, the exhaustion coming back. "Can I please go home now?"

Oliver looked at Caitlin. She shrugged.

"The drug's working out of his system," she said, "I couldn't get rid of it – just gave him something to negate the effects as much as possible – and to help him relax a little. He should be fine by morning."

"OK," Oliver said, "let's go then."

"Finally," Barry said. He got up off the bed and followed Oliver with tired eyes to the van, which Wells allowed him to borrow since he only had his motorcycle. Barry fell asleep on the way back to his apartment, and didn't want to wake up when they got there. Oliver had to practically carry him to the elevator, and when they finally got inside he crashed immediately, asleep as soon as he hit the bed.

LLLLLLLLLLLIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Barry woke up with a massive headache. He groaned and found that his whole body ached as well.

"You up?"

Barry groaned, covering his ears.

"I'll take that as a yes."

A minute later Oliver came back with a water bottle and a piece of toast. Barry hadn't moved from his original position and Oliver shook his shoulder gently. Barry groaned again.

"Come on, breakfast," Oliver said.

Barry groaned some more and started to sit up, just now piecing together where he was, which happened to be his apartment, on his bed, and the events of last night, or at least the ones he remembered, came back, which left him in a shocked and highly uncomfortable state, and the fact that he felt like he was about to throw up was not helping things.

"Do you remember what happened?" Oliver asked, handing him the water, pulling a chair up next to his bed.

Barry nodded, wincing. He took a sip of water and felt a little better. "Most of it."

"You remember everything that happened once I found you?"

Barry nodded again. "There's blank spots before that – it's all fuzzy. Shit. That really happened." Barry put the water down, not really sure what to make of it all. He still felt pretty off, but most of that was physical discomfort and not mental deterioration anymore. He was trying to wrap his head around the fact that he had been drugged, never mind that someone had tried to rape him, which, as terrifying as it was, he was sort of pushing to a back corner right now because he really didn't want to think about that, especially not about how he had admitted it to everyone, which made him feel suddenly very embarrassed and slightly ashamed.

He recognized this as irrational, but it didn't stop the feeling, so he just shoved the thought away and tried to focus on what else actually happened last night.

"Did Caitlin figure out what the drug was?" Barry asked.

Oliver shrugged. "Weird combination. She's still figuring it out – actually, she's really excited about it – she thinks she can figure out how to make an anesthetic or sedative that works on you from it."

"Great," he said, but his stomach turned a little. "And uh, what did you do about, you know…"

"The guy?"

Barry swallowed. "Yeah."

"I took care of it."

"You… took care of it?"

"You were out. Guy wasn't smart enough to call it quits for the night. He just picked a new bar."

Barry's eyes widened, dread curling in his gut, "Did he – did he get…"

"No," Oliver said, quickly, "he was pretty spooked when you disappeared right in front of him. He was very, very drunk when I found him."

"How did you even find him," Barry muttered.

"Don't worry about it," Oliver said.

"But –"

"I took care of it. He's not going to be hurting anyone else, Barry."

Barry looked at the bed. "I should really report him."

"Not necessary," Oliver said.

"You sure?"

"Absolutely."

Barry paused. "OK," he said finally, a little bit of the tension leaving his shoulders. He was still staring at the bed though, eyes going unfocused for a second.

"Barry," Oliver said gently, "are you OK?"

"Yeah," he said quickly, snapping out of it and looking up, but Oliver didn't miss the way his eyes darted. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Oliver asked. "You were pretty freaked out last night."

"I'm fine now," Barry said.

"There might still be some of the drug in your systems," Oliver added.

"Oh… yeah, I feel… OK, maybe a little sick."

"You still feeling anxious?"

"Anxious?"

"You got really nervous last night."

Barry shook his head, trying to remember, recalling pieces of what he said, a blind fear to it all, the terror about the guy, which only bled into his thoughts now, and he shuddered. "Yeah, no… no, not like that."

"OK," Oliver said. He was still watching him carefully, as if he were trying to analyze him, or solve some sort of puzzle. "Just… you let me know, OK? If you start feeling nervous again."

"I will," Barry said, "but I feel better now."

"Good," Oliver said, "but, it's OK, if you don't."

"If I don't?"

"It's OK if you're upset," Oliver said, choosing his words carefully.

"I'm fine."

"Good."

"But uh… maybe… maybe you could just… stay over here, for a few hours," Barry said, his face going just a tad bit more red, eyes darting up from the ground where they were fixed.

"OK," Oliver said.

"If that's OK."

"It's fine."

"OK."

"I'll get a movie going. You feel up to walking?"

Barry scoffed at him and got up, was unsteady for a few feet, and then regained his balance. He followed Oliver out to the living room where they sat on the couch, and Oliver started flipping through movie options.

Barry felt a little dizzy though. He was tense, the memories still spinning in fragments in his mind. He closed his eyes for a second, forced a deep breath out his mouth.

He felt a hand on his knee, and opened his eyes again, snapping down. Oliver was looking straight ahead, still holding the remote, flipping through, in one hand. But his other was resting solidly on Barry's knee, his thumb moving up and down just the slightest bit.

And Barry only stared for a second, and then he settled down against the couch, and let out another deep breath.

(If you review I'll love you forever OK thank you bye!)