Hey so this came from something i wrote in my other story Flash Fear. It's not the same thing, and the two universes or whatever aren't connected, was just rereading some of my earlier chapters and this came to mind. So WARNING panic attacks and stuff - anyway here you go!

For the most part, Barry was a fantastic kid. So much more than anyone had a right to expect from him after what he'd gone through. But he was bright, funny, caring. Joe had worried at first, but now he wouldn't change it for the world.

But every once in a while, Barry could be… challenging.

"I'm not going."

"Barry –"

"You can't make me."

"Barry it's –"

"No."

"Barry Allen, you get down right this minute," Joe snapped.

"No."

Joe sighed, rubbed the heel of his hand against his eyes. "Barry, this isn't up for discussion," Joe said.

"You're right. It's not. Because I'm not going."

Barry was sitting in a tree. He was sitting in a very large tree, about twenty feet above Joe, whose branches were thin and which Joe had told Barry on numerous occasions not to climb because they weren't thick enough to ensure that they wouldn't break. And Barry, being the braniac he was, knew that of course if he climbed the tree, Joe could not follow him up, because Barry at twelve weighed a hell of a lot less than Joe did.

"Barry, you have to go to the dentist."

"I'm not going."

"Barry –"

"I'm not going."

"Your teeth will all fall out, Barry," Joe snapped again.

"Fine."

"You leave that cavity in there and soon you'll be getting splitting headaches all day – no school, no friends – sitting in pain – and then you'll have to get the thing pulled out instead."

"I'm not going," he said again, but this time his voice was shakier, and Joe wondered if he had just helped or made the fear worse.

"Listen, Barry, if you come down we can talk about this," Joe said.

"I don't want to talk."

"You can tell me what you need me to do," Joe said, "I can come in with you – hold your hand, read to you, anything – just please come down, son."

"I'm not your son."

Joe pinched the bridge of his nose. Now this again.

"Barry I know –"

"I'm not going."

Barry was afraid of the dentist. Henry Allen had always taken him. Now Henry Allen was in jail. The first time Joe had brought Barry to the dentist had ended in disaster, and he had only managed to make it there the last two times by telling him they were going somewhere else and then surprising him. But now he had a cavity, and Barry had stood right next to him while he set the date for the appointment.

"Iris could come," Joe said, "if you wanted her to."

"Not going."

"I'll take you out for ice cream afterwards," Joe tried, desperate now. "Or the bookstore. You can get whatever you want."

"No."

"Barry, please come down."

"NO."

Barry stayed in the tree for three hours. Barry stayed in the tree until it got dark and he was sure, sure that he had missed the appointment time by enough that they couldn't possibly go. And then he climbed down.

Joe was waiting for him. He was leaning against the house, at the back door when Barry finally got down. He had given up at about an hour and a half in. He had tried everything. Threats, negotiations, guilt trip – anything. But the kid wouldn't come down. Joe waited until Barry was standing in front of him. Joe was blocking the door.

Barry looked down. "I'm sorry, Joe."

"I don't really think you are," Joe said.

Barry thought. "I'm not sorry I climbed the tree. I'm not sorry I missed the appointment. I'm sorry I made you upset."

And then Joe's hand was on his forehead again, because damn, how was he supposed to be mad at that?

"Get inside," he said, opening the door for him. Barry shuffled in.

Iris looked up when he came inside. They made eye contact, but she didn't say anything, just looked between Barry and her father.

"Upstairs," Joe said, and Barry went. "We'll be having a conversation about this later," he said. When Barry was gone he sank into the chair opposite Iris.

"He was crying last night," Iris said.

"I know, baby."

"He's really scared, Dad."

"He has to get the cavity filled, Iris."

"I know," Iris said, "he's just really scared." She went back to doing her homework.

Joe sighed, called the dentist office and made a new appointment. They had an opening in a few days, and Joe thanked them for being so understanding. Then he went up to Barry's room.

The door was half closed and Joe pushed it open slowly before walking inside. Barry was sitting on his bed, reading a book.

Joe waited, but Barry didn't look up. Just when he was about to open his mouth Barry spoke.

"My phone's on the desk."

Joe looked over. It was carefully placed in the middle, next to the school books and papers. Joe sighed.

"That's not really gonna cut it, Bar."

"I won't watch TV," he said, still without looking up from the book. "No computer except for school."

Joe sighed. He sat down on the edge of Barry's bed. "That's not what I meant, Barry. We need to talk about this."

Barry curled his legs in, drew his knees closer to his chest.

"You have to get the cavity filled, Bar," Joe said carefully, "I know that's really scary for you, but it has to be done."

"My comics are in the box over there," Barry said, his voice a little higher than before, "I'll put them in your room."

"Barry, you are in trouble, but we're not talking about that now."

"You can take away my books," Barry said, finally looking up, and the fear there made Joe want to throw up. "I won't go anywhere but school. I'll call Tyler and tell him I can't come over this weekend. I'll skip science club for a month."

"Barry," Joe said, sighing.

"Please," Barry said, and now he was holding out the book he had been reading, trying to give it to him. When he wouldn't take it he just put it down next to Joe's leg, giving it a final little push, and then curled up tighter, hugging his knees against his chest.

"Barry this isn't something that a few punishments can fix."

"Please," Barry said again.

"You have to get the cavity filled, Barry," Joe said again, firmly. Barry's eyes welled up with tears and then he was blinking furiously.

"No, I don't," he said, looking down.

"Barry –"

"I read – I read that they didn't – they – they didn't have dentists for centuries and they were fine."

"And by the time people were forty all their teeth had fallen out," Joe said.

"I'll get dentures."

"They pulled them out," Joe reminded him, "they had to pull the teeth out because they would cause them so much pain."

"Well – well I'll – I'll just deal with it."

"Barry –"

"I'm not going!"

And then Barry's face was pressed to his knees and he was shaking and Joe was sure he was crying and Joe sighed again before moving to sit parallel to Barry, up against the headboard, drawing him towards him.

Barry pulled away. "No," he said, his voice angry and loud, but muffled. "I'm not going. I'm not going. You can't make me."

Joe just rubbed his back. "Barry, it's OK."

"Imnogoing imnogoing imnogoing."

"Shh."

Barry sniffed and was quiet for a minute, and then he pulled away again, turning from him.

"Barry –"

"You can't make me," he said, and his voice was a little clearer, but there was still that hysterical, panicked edge to it. "I won't leave the car. I'll sit in the car and I won't get out and if you try and make me I'll scream – I'll scream and kick and I'll – I'll run or – or –"

"Barry, it doesn't matter what you do. You still have to go. It's your health, kiddo. You can scream and yell and kick and run but I'm still gonna keep bringing you back."

"No," Barry said, yelled. "No, you can't – I can't – I can't go."

"It's gonna be alright, Bar."

"No it's not," he said, and his voice broke in a sob. "It's not it's not it's gonna hurt and they're gonna stick me with needles and they're gonna drill into my skull and I'm gonna scream and cry and they still won't stop and they'll stick those things in my mouth that I can't see and I can't I can't I won't don't make me go please don't make me go I can't." And he was sobbing again, hysterically, his whole body shaking.

"No, Barry," Joe said, pulling him in again, and Barry didn't pull away this time, turned his head into his chest and kept crying, "it's not going to be like that, Barry."

"Yes it will. It always is."

"It wasn't like that when we went last time, was it? You remember, we had that very nice woman, and she told you everything she was going to do before she did it, and when you asked her to stop, when you got scared, she did, and she left for a few minutes?"

"That's different," he said, "it was a cleaning. They're gonna drill into me this time."

"It's not different, Bar," Joe said, "It's gonna take a little longer, and you are going to need Novocain, but you can still tell them to stop if you get scared, and if anything hurts all you have to do is raise your arm, and they'll stop right away."

Barry had stopped crying, or at least he had stopped hysterically crying. Now he was just grabbing onto Joe's shirt, curled up against his side.

"You don't know that," he said.

"Oh yes I do," Joe said, "because if they don't I'll grab the thing right out of their hands."

Barry sniffed, almost laughed, but then his face screwed up again.

"What if I panic," he said, all in a whisper.

"Then we'll stop for a minute and start again when you're calm."

"No, Joe, what if I panic."

Oh. "If you have a panic attack?" Joe asked.

Barry nodded.

Joe took in a breath, but kept his voice calm. "Then we'll have them stop for a minute, and I'll stay right next to you and remind you to breathe, and I'll make them all leave the room if you need it, and we'll start again when you've calmed down."

"But what if I don't calm down."

"You will," Joe said firmly, "and if you're still scared, you can squeeze my hand, and shut your eyes really tight, and it'll be done soon, and then I'll take you out to the book store or the video game store or wherever you want to go."

Barry was quiet. "Even though I hid in the tree?" he asked weakly.

Joe sighed. "Even though you hid in the tree."

"I'm sorry."

"I know, Bar."

"I'm really scared."

"It's going to be OK."

"I don't wanna go."

"I know you don't, Bar, but you have to."

"I don't want Novocain."

"They numb you up with this sticky jelly stuff first," Joe said, "so you barely feel it when the needle goes through. Just a little pinch."

"Tyler said he could feel the whole thing."

"Well Tyler's just trying to scare you."

"No, he was really upset. He said it hurt worse than the doctor's."

"Sometimes they don't do a good job numbing you first. You have a really good dentist, Bar. That won't happen to you."

"He said it hurts when they do the drilling too, that they say it's just pressure but you can feel the whole thing."

"Barry," Joe said, "if anything hurts during the procedure, then you raise your arm, and they'll stop and you can tell them, and they'll numb you up some more until it doesn't hurt."

"But then I'll have to get more Novocain."

"It's just a pinch, Bar."

"It's still going to hurt."

"Just a little though. You can squeeze my hand. It'll only take a second. You do worse at the doctor's all the time, and you do really well with that."

"It's different."

"They're both shots."

"But this is in my mouth."

"It's still the same thing."

"I don't want it though."

"I know, Barry."

"I'm gonna panic."

"You're not going to panic, Bar."

"When did you reschedule it for?"

Joe paused. "Are you sure you want to know, Bar."

"Yes."

"I don't want you to keep worrying about it."

"I'll keep worrying about it either way."

"I know, but I don't want you to work yourself all up the night before."

"I need to know," Barry said, and his face looked so strained that Joe sighed again and told him.

"It's in a few days."

"Which day?"

"Friday."

"When?"

"Eight thirty."

"In the morning?"

"Yes."

"Does it have to be in the morning?"

"It'll be better that way, you'll have less time to worry about it."

"I don't want to go in the morning."

"It was the only time open, Barry."

"Can't we wait a couple weeks?"

"It has to get done, Barry."

"I – I know, but – but can't we just wait a little bit."

"Afraid not, Bar."

"But I – it's – that's too soon, please."

"It was supposed to be today."

"I know but I – I can't – it's too soon, please, Joe, I don't want to, just a little bit, just a couple weeks, I promise, I'll be good then, I'll go."

"We're going to get it done Friday, kiddo," Joe said gently, still with one arm around his shoulders. "It's going to be OK."

Barry was tying himself up in knots, Joe could tell, his face scrunched up and fear swarming in his eyes. He was pulling at the sleeves of his own shirt now, making a low sound of fear in his throat.

"Hey," Joe said, "it's going to be OK. You're going to go and when you get back you'll wonder why you were ever so scared of going."

"Can't I just brush my teeth a lot more?" Barry asked. "What if I brushed them four times a day?"

"That won't get rid of a cavity, Barry."

Barry's face crumpled. "Why does it have to be Friday?"

"Because that's when there was an opening," Joe said, "but when I talked to the receptionist, she said we could go in tomorrow and they'd show you everything that was going to happen." Joe looked at Barry for a reaction. He was getting pale again. "Not to do anything – but just to walk in and see what would happen."

Barry shook his head fast. "No."

"Why not?"

"I – I don't want to."

"You don't have to do anything," Joe said, "you don't have to even open your mouth if you don't want to. No sitting in chairs, no opening your mouth – they'll just show you the tools and explain what they'll be doing."

Barry shook his head. "I don't want to go there."

"I know it makes you nervous, Bar," Joe said, "but I think it would really help. You don't have to do anything you don't want to if we go. They're just going to talk to us."

Barry went quiet. "When tomorrow?"

"After you get home from school."

Barry stared at his hands. "If I get scared will you bring me home?"

"I want you to at least go in there," Joe said, "so no chickening out while we're still in the waiting room, but after that, of course. If you get too scared, we'll leave right away."

Barry nodded slowly. "OK," he said quietly.

"And when I talked to her – when I talked to her the first time actually – I scheduled you for nitrous oxide."

"What's that," Barry said, his forehead already creasing again.

"Laughing gas," Joe said, "It's this little mask they put over your nose, and hook up to a machine. You just breathe it in, and it helps you relax. You'll probably still be a little nervous, maybe a little scared, but it should calm you down some."

"What's the mask like?" Barry asked.

"You'll see it tomorrow," Joe said, "But it's just this little thing. It's not uncomfortable or scary or weird – just something they put over your nose that you breathe through."

"OK," he said.

LLLLLLLLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Joe found Barry in his room. He was sitting on the bed, wringing his hands over and over again, already starting to shake, gripping tightly to a single book and an mp3 player, a pair of headphones wrapped around it.

"Ready to go, Bar?" Joe asked.

Barry looked sharply up, eyes wide. He shook his head, the nods coming in little jerks and then faster and faster, tears in the corners of his eyes and his lip was turning down.

"Hey," Joe said, "it's alright. Remember – they're going to give you some nice stuff to help you relax, and then it'll be over real quick."

"No," Barry said, "Joe I don't want to go. I – I don't." A tear slipped over. "I-I w-want my dad." Barry hugged his arms in close and then the tears fell over. "I don't want to go – I want my d-dad I want my dad I don't want to go, Joe. It's going to hurt and I'll panic and I'm scared and I can't go by myself I'm scared I don't want to I'll panic I'll cry and they won't stop and it won't relax me enough it won't and I want to stay here – I want to stay home, Joe – I want to stay here, please – please let me – please let me stay I don't want to go – I want to go home." And now he was really crying and Joe sighed and sat next to him, put an arm around his shoulder, let him lean into his side.

"It's OK, Bar," Joe said softly, "Everything's going to be alright." Barry kept crying, gripping him. "I know you miss your Dad – but how about after we get it done you can go see him, huh? I'll take you right afterwards, and you can tell him how brave you were, how you did such a good job, and then we'll go for icecream, how does that sound?"

Barry shook his head. "No, no I don't want to go, please, I don't want to."

"Hey," Joe said, "I'll be there the whole time with you – and we'll go in like that nice assistant showed us, and she'll put the mask on and you'll get real relaxed nice and easy, OK, Bar? And you can squeeze my hand while they do the Novocain, and after that it's all easy. You won't feel a thing, and you'll be nice and relaxed. It's going to be just fine, remember? She showed you everything that was going to happen, and none of it is too scary. You just have to be really brave for me for a little bit while they do the Novocain, and then you're all set."

"No," Barry said, "I can't – I'm not – I'm scared."

"It's OK to be scared," Joe said, "you can still be brave – that's what being brave is – going even though you're scared."

"I don't want to be brave," Barry said, "I want to stay home."

"I know you do, son, but I need you to be really brave anyway. You can do it. I know you can. Why don't we go get in the car?"

Barry shook his head, started to cry harder. He pushed his forehead against his knees, arms wrapped around them. "No, no I can't, Joe, I can't do it. Don't make me."

"It's gonna be all OK, Bar," Joe said, rubbing his back. "You're going to be just fine."

"No," he said, "no I won't, I'll freak out – I'll panic and it's gonna hurt and I won't be – I won't."

"Barry, look at me," Joe said, taking his shoulder in his hand. When Barry finally met his gaze, eyes red, he continued. "I promise you," he said, "that you are going to be fine. I'll be right there with you the whole time, and I won't let anything happen to you, OK? I'm not going to let them hurt you, and I won't let you panic, OK? Can you trust me, Barry? I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

Barry sniffed and nodded, but he still shook. He wiped a hand across his face and Joe reached into his pocket and took out a tissue, which he handed over.

"Do you think you can get in the car now for me, Barry?" Joe asked.

Barry started trembling again.

"You're safe," Joe said again, "nothing's going to happen to you. We'll just go in the car, and we'll sit in the waiting room for a while, and even once you're in the chair I won't let them start until you're ready, OK? So we can go now, Barry. They won't start until you're ready, either way."

Barry's mouth tightened, but he moved off the bed, shuffled out into the hall, head down. He followed Joe down the steps. Iris was sitting on the couch at the bottom. She turned around to see them and Barry hung his head low.

"I'll see you in a little bit, Barry," Iris said, smiling wide, "we can play basketball afterwards, if you want." She offered up the game, hoping to get a smile, but Barry just ducked behind Joe, grabbing a coat. He mumbled something she didn't hear. "Make sure you make Dad come pick me up if you end up getting ice cream," she added.

"Iris –" Joe said, exasperated, but Barry looked up and she did get a little smile from him this time.

"No promises," he said.

"You better at least bring me back some," she shouted as they went out the door. They got into the car.

The drive there was tense. Joe kept looking over at Barry, and he couldn't help but adopt some of his nervousness. The whole thing had been weighing on his shoulders for a month now, knowing how it was going to affect Barry, and now the kid was sitting beside him, absolutely silent, staring straight ahead.

When they got there, Joe had a split second of panic that Barry really wasn't going to get out of the car. He froze in the seat when Joe started to get out. Joe paused halfway out the door, looked back in.

"Barry?"

Barry nodded, sucked in a shaky breath, and Joe was back in the car.

"Hey," he said, "no panicking. Not allowed, you hear me. Take a deep breath, Barry."

Barry took in a deep breath, and Joe put a hand on his back, letting him breathe for a minute, and then Barry clenched his teeth and grabbed the door handle, and they left the car and walked in.

Once they were there, it was a different story. Barry was frozen in the chair, absolutely still, and rigid. When they called him in he shot a frantic look at Joe, but Joe just put a hand on his shoulder and led him into the room, practically pushing him the whole way, Barry's feet dragging on the ground. By the time they got in there he was already hyperventilating, his heart thudding along way too fast. When the assistant told him to hop onto the chair his eyes went wide and he shook his head, fast, shot a panicked look at Joe, and then his eyes darted towards the door, like he was going to bolt.

"Hey," Joe said, waiting until he got Barry's eyes. "You're OK," he said, "You're just going to sit down on the chair – they're not starting anything yet. You can do it, Bar."

Barry's mouth screwed up and he looked at the chair, looked at Joe again, shook his head furiously. He was clenching his hands around his book now, rubbing the palms on his jeans intermittently. He didn't say anything, felt like his throat had closed up.

"Barry," Joe said gently, "it's alright. You're safe. I'm not going to let anything happen to you, remember? It's just a chair. It won't bite."

Barry shook his head. A nervous sound came up his throat, like a hum. He took a couple steps back, looked between Joe and the assistant like a cornered animal.

"What if I promise not to do anything for five minutes, hun," the assistant said, crouching down to his level. "You just sit up there while I do some paperwork."

Barry tapped his fingers together. He looked at Joe again.

"Sounds like a good idea to me," Joe said, "you just sit up there, Barry. It's the same as the waiting room."

Barry cautiously came back, hesitated, and then climbed onto the chair. He looked desperately at Joe for reassurance, gripping his hands tightly around the book he had brought.

"That's it," Joe said approvingly, dragging over the chair in the corner so he was closer. "Why don't you take out your mp3 player, and read your book while you wait?"

Barry hesitated again, and then took the mp3 player out of his pocket, put the headphones in his ears. He opened the book, his whole body tense but concentrating on the words to distract himself. He had to concentrate in order to focus on it at all.

The assistant had said five minutes, but she gave him more like ten, before she wheeled over the nitrous oxide and Barry looked up suddenly. He closed the book anxiously, pulled out the headphones.

"This is just the laughing gas," she said. "I'm going to lean you back now, sweetheart, but you can keep the music in if you'd like. OK – just leaning you back, now." The chair started to tilt and Barry grabbed at Joe's hand, kept his head angled upwards, the strain making him shake.

"Just lean back there, Barry," Joe said, "the dentist still isn't even here yet. You can relax."

Barry slowly leaned back again. The assistant came over with the mask she had shown him the other day.

"This is just the laughing gas," she said, "it's going to make you nice and relaxed, alright, Barry? It doesn't hurt, just a mask." She put it over her face to demonstrate, and then reached to put it on, but Barry squirmed backwards, eyes going wide.

"It's just a mask, Barry," Joe said, still holding his hand. "Why don't you put the music back in, huh? And you're just going to lie there and breathe for a few minutes. Nothing scary, I promise. The laughing gas is going to make you feel better."

Barry didn't look like he believed him, but he trembled and put the headphones back in, clenched Joe's fingers with one hand, the other wrapped to a fist around the edge of his shirt. He held still while the assistant fitted the mask on, adjusted it, tense the whole time.

"Just breathe normally, Barry," she said, "good deep breaths."

Barry tried, but they were coming too fast and he was trembling again.

"You're doing great, Bar," Joe said, "now just relax, we're going to wait a few more minutes."

Barry laid back, tried to do as they said. The music was playing softly, just enough to help him relax, but not enough that he couldn't hear when they talked to him. At first he just felt terrified, kept thinking about what they were going to do next, about the drilling and the needles, but after a couple minutes he started to feel funny. His fingers and toes were getting tingly, and then they started to feel kind of numb, and the tingly feeling extended out up his arms and legs. He didn't like it, and it felt weird, but then his body started to relax too. He was still scared, and he was still holding on tightly to Joe's hand, but he wasn't as tense, wasn't breathing as fast. Things started to get a little floaty, sort of disconnected, but Barry wasn't caring as much as he had before.

That's when the dentist came in. Barry shot a look over at Joe, made a whine in his throat. The dentist said something to him and Barry started to tremble again, just a little bit, but as his breathing kicked up and he hyperventilated, he inhaled more of the gas and then he was relaxing again, the edge of the panic ebbing away, still scared, but not the same terror-stricken panic as before.

"Alright, Barry, we're going to get started," the dentist said. Barry stared up with wide eyes.

"Open your mouth wide for me, Barry," he said.

Barry looked over at Joe. "Do what he says," Joe said, nodding.

Barry tentatively opened his mouth. He felt the dentist wipe something on the inside of his mouth, his gums, and then immediately got a tingling sensation there too. When he closed his mouth again he screwed up his face at the taste.

"Yeah, doesn't taste so great," the dentist said, "but it's going to numb you all up so you won't feel the Novocain."

At the mention of Novocain Barry tensed again, but as the dentist waited for the topical anesthetic to work he started to settle back down again. His mouth was numb on that side and he began to relax.

"Alright, Barry, we're going to get started now," the dentist said. Barry saw him come over with a tray and he peered upwards, got a look at the needle before the dentist moved it, and once again Barry was looking at Joe, eyes pleading, heartbeat speeding up.

"It's OK," Joe said, "remember, it's only a second, and you're already numb there, OK?"

Barry whimpered and tried to squirm away from the dentist, his eyes going back and forth between him and Joe.

"You'll only feel a little pinch, Barry, I promise," he said. "Can you open your mouth for me?"

Barry shook his head. No, no, he couldn't do this. He looked at Joe, pleading again, begging. He couldn't – he couldn't do this. He was sucking in deep breaths again, and even though the laughing gas was helping, it wasn't enough. He was still scared, and he would do anything to get off that chair.

"It'll be over in a second, Barry, I promise," Joe said as gently as he could. "You need to open your mouth for the nice dentist, and you just close your eyes and squeeze down on my hand, alright? And then when you open them again it'll be done."

Barry shook his head. He was scared, he was scared, he wanted a break, he wanted a break now, wanted to get the mask off, to go sit with Joe, make Joe hold him and hug him because he was scared and he wanted to go home and Joe was safe and this was not.

Barry raised his arm, looking at Joe, but Joe shook his head. "You haven't started yet, Barry. You can't have a break before you even start."

Tears welled up in Barry's eyes and he shrunk inwards, moved his knees up, shied away from the dentist's hands.

"Barry," Joe said, still gently, "it's OK. It's only going to take a second. How about we make a deal, huh? You close your eyes and let the dentist give you the Novocain, and afterwards you can have a break, OK? How does that sound?"

Barry trembled, and a tear ran down his face. Joe brushed it away, and Barry opened his mouth, clenched both his hands, his eyes shut, his body trembling, and then he felt a pinch of pain and he let out a pained, scared noise, more tears leaking from his eyes, and then it was over and he felt a hand on his forehead, another on his arm, and the dentist was telling him what a good job he had done, and that it was all over, and he would wait a few minutes before starting the filling.

Barry turned towards Joe, not caring when it moved the mask. He went to take it off, but Joe stopped him.

"It helps you relax, remember," he said gently, "so let's keep it on, OK, Bar?" Barry nodded, but still buried his face in Joe's arm, and Joe reached around at an awkward angle to rub his back. Barry shook and cried and tried to stop, but couldn't. He was ashamed and embarrassed, but mostly he was scared and tired.

After a few minutes Joe pulled away and Barry grabbed reflexively at him, knowing what it meant.

"We're gonna let the dentist start now, OK, Barry?" he said, gently pushing him back into the chair.

"No," Barry said, pleading, looking from Joe to the dentist and trembling.

Joe gently pushed down on his chest, until he was leaning back, and readjusted the mask of the laughing gas. Barry clenched his hands and sniffed loudly, wiped the back of his hand across his face. Joe took his hand again and then the dentist was back and Barry shut his eyes but didn't open his mouth.

"Barry, it's time to start, son," Joe said, a little firmer.

"No," Barry said, shaking, eyes still squeezed shut, "no, please."

"It's alright, Barry," Joe said gently, "but we need to start. Open your mouth for the dentist. The hard part's all done, you just have to lean back and relax now."

"I-it's g-gonna hurt," Barry said, bringing both his hands up to his face, pulling off the mask. He wiped at his eyes and tried to stop, but couldn't. He didn't want the mask and he didn't want to be in the chair and he wanted to go home because so far it was just as bad as he thought it would be and he was scared and exhausted already and he wanted to run away but he couldn't.

"It's not going to hurt at all," the dentist said, putting one hand on his shoulder, "if you feel any pain," he said gently, "you raise your hand and tell me, and I'll give you some more Novocain, but you shouldn't feel anything at all. Just some pressure."

At that Barry started crying harder, hid his face in his hands because it was just like Tyler said and it was going to hurt and they wouldn't stop and he'd have to get more shots and he didn't want more shots and he wanted to go home because this was too much and he couldn't do it.

"Barry," Joe said, squeezing down on his hand, "it's OK. It won't hurt. I know you're scared it will, but it's not going to, OK? Come on, Bar, I know you can do it." He wiped the tears off his face and pressed the mask back over his nose. Barry pushed away, hiccupped, and Joe rubbed his shoulder. The laughing gas started working again, had gotten somewhat out of his system because he had jarred the mask around and wasn't breathing it all in.

"Open your mouth, Barry," Joe said, "it will never be over if you don't start."

Barry looked at Joe, scared, and upset, and then at the dentist, who gave him a friendly smile, and Barry screwed his eyes shut and opened his mouth.

He shook the whole time, squeezing down on Joe's hand and pushing himself up on the chair, pressing his head back into it every time he felt a harder pressure on his tooth. It was uncomfortable, very uncomfortable, but it didn't hurt. Barry kept waiting for it, kept flinching every time the discomfort rose to almost-pain, but it never crossed that line. He was numb. That didn't mean he liked the feeling of a drill pushing against his jaw.

He didn't raise his hand. He just squeezed down on Joe's and sniffed and cried out a little bit when anything surprised him. When it was finally over the dentist brought the chair back up and took the mask away, said something about what a good job he had done, and how he had been very, very brave, and Barry had nodded, and wiped at his face some more because he was sure it was all red and puffy, before walking out to the receptionist with Joe, and then leaving and getting in the car.

Barry opened the door, and got in, sat down. Then his eyes started watering, and he started trembling. Joe got in, looked over, then looked back, eyes staying this time.

"Hey," he said, reaching over to rub Barry's back, "it's all done now. No reason to get upset. You did great, Bar – it's all over."

Barry shook his head, hid it in his hands. He kept shaking.

"Bar," Joe said, his voice a little bit harder, a little more serious, "what's wrong?"

Barry shook his head again. "I w-wannna go h-home."

"OK," Joe said, still rubbing his back, "are you sure you don't want to visit your Dad first? Or go and get ice-cream – or I promised you the bookstore, didn't I? Or a new video game?"

Barry shook his head. "I want to go home."

Joe frowned. "Not even to see your dad first?"

Barry shook his head again.

"Alright, son," Joe said quietly, "we can go out tomorrow, or this weekend, when you're feeling better, alright?"

Barry nodded, head still in his hands. He was still shaking.

"Can you tell me what's wrong, Barry?" Joe asked.

Barry shook his head. "I-I d-don't feel good," he mumbled, "I wanna go home."

"OK," Joe said, but he didn't move his hand from Barry's shoulder.

LLLLLLLLLLLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

When they got back to the house, Barry practically bolted up the stairs to his room. Joe heard the door shut. Iris looked up from the kitchen table, a question in her expression.

Joe shook his head. "It went fine," he said, "but Barry's not feeling great, so we came straight back."

Iris nodded, and then started up the stairs. Joe had an idea of where she was going, but just sat down on the couch and sighed. He'd let Iris have a try.

LLLLLLLLLLLLLIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

There was a knock on the door, and Barry pulled the blankets around him tighter. He was curled into a ball, the blanket over his head so he was trapped underneath.

He heard the door open, and knew by the sound of the footsteps that it was Iris not Joe.

"Go away," he said.

"Is your tooth all better?" Iris asked, ignoring him. She grabbed the blanket and tugged, and Barry grabbed it tighter.

"Yes, now go away."

She pulled at the blanket again. "Can I see it?" she asked, "did they give you a silver one? I got silver last time – you can see it – it's all shiny."

She managed to tug the blanket away a little, and Barry's eyes peeked out, accusing.

"I don't know what color it is. I'm tired, and I want to sleep, so please go away."

"You can't be tired," she said, "it's not even two o'clock. I bet you haven't even had lunch."

"I'm not hungry."

"Not even for cookies?" she asked. "I made cookies while you were gone."

"You're not supposed to use the oven when Joe's not here."

"Well I'm not going to give any cookies to him, so he doesn't need to know, does he?"

Barry stared at her, and she stared back, and then turned abruptly and scuttled out of the room, returning shortly with a Tupperware container of chocolate chip cookies.

Barry let the blanket fall a little more, and after a moment took one. Iris hopped up on the bed and sat cross-legged, and took one too.

"Did the laughing gas help?" she asked, "it's supposed to make you feel all funny. Did you get loopy – you know, like on TV when someone's on a bunch of drugs at a hospital or whatever and they act all weird?"

"No," he said, "it wasn't like that."

She started to smile. "I bet you were. I bet you said all sorts of stupid embarrassing things – I'm asking my Dad later."

"No," he said, but he was starting to smile too, "it wasn't like that – it just made me kind of relax a little – it didn't even really do much at all."

"I don't know," she said, "I think you're lying."

"I am not."

"Bet you are."

"I'm not!"

"Ok, fine," she said, "I believe you – but only 'cause you don't seem loopy at all now." Barry took another cookie, and Iris was already on her third. He was having trouble chewing, kept moving it to one side.

"It's still numb," he said, taking a bite.

"It stays like that for a while."

"Feels weird," he said, moving his tongue around.

"Make sure you don't bite it."

"Bite what?"

"You're mouth – you won't be able to feel it if you do."

"I'm not going to bite my mouth."

"Well that's what they always tell you to be careful of."

"Well they're stupid."

"They're dentists."

"I hate dentists."

"You just hate going."

"No, I hate them too."

"Our dentist is nice," Iris said, pointing, "he lets us go in the same room and it never hurts and he's funny."

"It hurt today."

"That's just because it was a cavity."

"He stuck me with a needle."

"That's just Novocain, Barry."

"Well it hurt."

"Don't be a baby."

"I'm not! It was a big needle and it burned – it really hurt!"

"It doesn't hurt that much," Iris said, waving it away with her hand, taking another bite.

"How would you know?"

"I got a cavity filled last year."

"Well that was a long time ago."

"I still remember."

"It's not the same."

Iris rolled her eyes. "Are you gonna get ice cream tomorrow?"

"I don't know."

"You should. Make sure Dad brings me too."

"You didn't go to the dentist."

"I still want ice cream."

"You don't deserve ice cream."

"I made you cookies you traitor!" Iris said, and promptly wacked him with a pillow.

Barry ducked and blocked it with his arms. "Hey!"

And that was how Joe walked in to a scream and found Barry lying on his back on the floor with cookies scattered around him and Iris doubled over laughing, a Tupperware container across the ground next to a now broken cup and spilled pencils and pens.

"Hi Joe," Barry said, smiling.

Joe sighed and shut the door. He'd yell at them later. He was smiling.

Yeah, so I might write a couple more chapters of Barry throughout the years - I'll have to see - got one chapter half finished but I'm not sure - anyway review and let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions for future dentist fear type chapters or any comments in general I love to know what you think! Thanks for reading :)