So I think it might be like a year since I last posted. That being said, I logged on for the first time in a long time and was kind of overwhelmed by all the comments I've gotten on my various stories since then. So thanks guys :) Anyway, I went back through my files, and realized that I had already written this and just never uploaded it. It's a little bit short, but I figured I'd post it since it was done anyway, and I'm working on the next chapter. No promises, but I hope to get it out within a week or so. Anyway, here you go :)

"I'm going to give you antibiotics through pills," Caitlin said, holding up the tablets, "But I don't know how they'll work with your healing. If it's not getting better after your third dose, we'll have to do an IV."

Barry nodded. She handed him the tablets and a glass of water and he swallowed them down. He looked at his arm. He shouldn't have waited this long. He should have just sucked it up and gone in when he first saw it was infected. Actually, he should have just never used something that wasn't one hundred percent sterile to cut with in the first place.

"I'm going to give you the second dose in an hour," she said. She grabbed a chair and pulled it over. "Until then," she sat down, "what's going on, Barry?"

Barry's throat felt tight. He played with the edge of his shirt. "I just, I dunno, got to be… too much."

"Why didn't you talk to me," she said, "We could have worked something out – done something different – if the desensitization is too much Barry, we can always, always go slower."

"No," he said quickly, "it wasn't that it was just… it was just everything."

"The bullets?"

"Yeah."

"But it wasn't just that, was it?"

"No."

"It's starting to be a habit again?"

"Yeah."

"You know you have to stop, right, Barry?"

He swallowed, and then looked up, a tight smile on his face. "They heal," he said simply.

"It's not about the damage you do to your body," Caitlin said firmly, "It's the fact that your method of coping is rooted in a psychological disposition to self-destruction. It's not healthy, and it's not good for you."

Barry looked down again. Yeah. There was that.

"Barry," Caitlin said, "What do you need me to do?"

What did he need her to do? What did he need anyone to do – what could anyone do? He didn't know.

"Can I come back to your apartment?" she asked slowly, "Go through it with you – throw out anything you could use to cut?"

He felt a terrifying stab in his stomach. "I could just get more."

"I know," she said, "But it won't help to have stuff around the house just sitting there."

"OK," he relented.

Caitlin took a deep breath. "I had Cisco make something – it's a scanner. It reads for regeneration paths in your cells. It could tell if you've cut in the past twenty-four hours, more or less."

Barry's head shot up and a sinking feeling filled his gut. "Caitlin –"

"I think," she said carefully, "That since you're here anyway, most days, you should let me check you."

No, he thought. No, he did not like that idea, not one bit, not one tiny little bit.

"I – I'm not comfortable with that," he said.

Caitlin gave him a look. "Not comfortable with that because I'm scanning you, or not comfortable with that because it means you won't be able to cut and get away with it?"

Barry squirmed. "Both."

Caitlin let out a long sigh. "You're an adult. I can't make you come in to check. But I think you should."

"I don't think I can stop this time, Cait."

And there it was, the fear nagging at his mind, the question he didn't have an answer to.

"Of course you can." Barry looked up. The strength behind her words startled him. She took his hands, squeezing gently. "Just, let us help, Barry. You're not alone. You can do this."

"OK," he said.

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Barry did alright for a while. It was easier to stop himself when he knew that Caitlin would know if he decided to cut. He hated having her scan his arms. It was a humiliating experience but he did it because if he refused she would just assume he had cut and there was this little part of him that knew he needed to stop, that this was good for him, that he was going to have to give up some control and let other people take care of him, help him through this, and that was a hard thing for him to admit, but once he did it got easier. He let Caitlin go back to his apartment and take anything sharp out of it, let her scan his arms every time he went into Star labs, even went so far as to let her confiscate his razors and keep them in a bathroom at Star labs instead. He was there every day, she said, so he could use them there, and as embarrassing and irritating as that was, when he was pacing around his apartment at ten at night he called someone instead of going into the bathroom to take one apart. He knew he had to do this. Didn't mean he liked it.

It was going pretty well though. The first few days were tough, because it had become a habit again, and then it was gone, but after that he started settling down into it better, into the routine.

Then the fucking bees.

He was running out of the building, his whole body burning, and then he was gasping staring at the sky and Joe was kneeling next to him, looking like he just had a heart attack and speaking of hearts his chest was on fire.

"Ah, agh," he panted, pained gasps that barely got out because he was sucking in breath, couldn't breathe."

"Oh, thank God," he heard Joe say and then there was a hand against his shoulder, his chest. "Easy, easy."

Barry squeezed his eyes shut as the pain rolled in waves down his body, oh God, he was going to pass out, his skin was burning everywhere, there were needle prick pains everywhere and a deep, awful ache underneath, his muscles cramping everywhere, and his chest felt like it was collapsing inward, his head pounding, vision swimming in and out.

"J-Joe," he managed. Oh, God, he hurt. Everything hurt. "Agh," he gasped again, fingers clawing at the ground, "Fuck… fuck, ow."

He heard noise in the background, his eyes closed or his vision just black, he wasn't sure. He didn't know if he passed out again or if he was just delirious from the pain and the bee poison. All he knew was the pain was agonizing and then he was being lifted and fuck that hurt, that hurt more.

"Agh," he moaned, "st-stop. Ah-a-hg – owww."

He kept mumbling and moaning in pain and he vaguely registered they were loading him into the van, and as far as Barry was concerned that was an absolutely horrible decision because every bump and turn and stop made him cry out in pain again. Things got clearer as they kept going, but it didn't help anything. The pain just got sharper, came more into focus, and Joe must have taken his hand at some point because he realized belatedly that he was gripping down hard on it. He was trying to get the suit off of him, at least the top part, to expose his chest, but Barry groaned and cried out every time he tried to touch him, begged him to stop. They brought him inside on the board they used to get him into the van and as gently as possible lowered him onto the hospital bed.

"Barry," Caitlin said, "You look like you're in a lot of pain. Can I put an IV in to get that down for you?"

No, no, no, no, he did not want an IV. He shook his head, and it hurt but he just wanted to be left alone. It was getting better, was already starting to heal, and he was still in a shit ton of pain, but it was going down and he didn't want an IV or needles or anything else.

"Barry, I need to get this suit off you and it's not going to feel good. Can I put an IV in to help?"

"No," he said, turning away from her. Oh, God, would they just please leave him alone. He hurt all over and he couldn't deal with this right now.

"I'm going to put it in, Barry."

"Noo," he said, "no." But Caitlin had his hand and he barely even registered it and he started to scream but then she was on his other side.

"All done."

He hadn't even felt it and the nervous energy was quickly swallowed up by the pain anyway. Within a few moments though, it started to melt away and he let out a blissfully relieved sigh as he felt the stinging burning pain fade to an ache. His muscles were all tense and cramped and it wasn't helping that, but the burn of the bee stings themselves was going down.

"See," Caitlin said, rubbing his shoulder gently, "it'll help you feel better. I'm going to get you out of this thing now." She started to thread his arm out through the sleeve of the jacket and he winced and cringed and protested, had to be coaxed into cooperating by Joe. The bees had gotten inside his suit. He was covered in stings, from his chest down to his calves, and he tried to protest when Caitlin started pulling at his pants, but she gave him a look and said something about being a medical professional and for him to suck it up and act like an adult. Joe just gave him a sympathetic look.

And the bee stings were everywhere.

She ran around him, dabbing salve onto the spots, which spread a numbing coolness over his skin. But when she reached for his boxers he grabbed her wrist.

"Barry."

"No. It's fine. Really."

She rolled her eyes. Barry's face burned. She handed the bottle to Barry. "I'll be back in five minutes."

Barry groaned, and after completing that humiliating task, Caitlin came back and started inspecting some of stings, apparently satisfied with the results. Then she turned back to Barry.

"Barry," she said gently, "I'm going to need to do a couple of blood tests."

Barry went pale, and then started to cringe, bring his arms in near his chest nervously. "I'm OK," he said, "I feel OK now."

"Barry," she said, once again putting a hand gently on his shoulder. He winced. "I know you're still in a lot of pain, so don't lie to me. I need to take a couple blood samples to make sure everything is alright."

He started to tremble. "No," he said, barely whispering, "no, please, Cait."

"You've done a lot of them before," she said, "you can do it. It's not that bad, and you know it. Just one pinch then it's done."

He shook his head. "Cait," he said, his voice strained.

He just stared as she walked away and came back with a syringe. Joe moved around to put a hand against his shoulder.

"No," he said, started backing up on the bed, panicking, "no, Cait, wait, wait."

"It's OK," she said, "Barry, look at me. I know you're scared, but it's OK. I'm not going to hurt you. It's just one pinch, then it's over."

"No, no, Cait, don't, please," he said, desperately now as she got closer. He was hyperventilating.

"Breathe, Barry," Joe said gently.

"No," he said, "don't, I can't, not right now, please, wait, five minutes, please."

"You need to do it now," she said, carefully reaching for his arm. He drew it back, holding it in tight to his chest, shaking, pushed into the corner of the bed now.

"I don't want to, don't," he said.

"Barry," Joe said, "You need to calm down, son. You're alright, but Caitlin needs to do this. You have to let her, Bar. It's OK. I'm right here."

"No," Barry said, close to tears, "I-I'm tired. It hurts. Not right now, please, just not right now."

"It has to be now, Barry," Caitlin said.

"Wait, waitwaitwait, I need a minute, I can't breathe," he said, panicking more and more with each second. Caitlin had the needle up and he couldn't breathe, couldn't think, oh God, oh God.

"Barry, calm down," Caitlin said but Barry couldn't breathe and then he was crying and he didn't care he was terrified and he couldn't do this, he just couldn't.

"Hey, Bar, deep breaths," Joe said, gripping his shoulders and talking steadily, gently.

"No," he said, shaking his head, "no I can't, don't make me, please, please I'll die, don't."

"Barry, you're not going to die," Joe said, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice, "you're fine. Just take a deep breath."

"No, no Joe, please, please," Barry said, "don't, I can't." He was crying as Joe took his arm for Caitlin. Joe kept trying to calm him down, but he had seen this before, knew when Barry was too far gone, when it was better to just get it over with.

"Stop!" he yelled when the needle pricked his skin. He screamed and she drew the blood out, cringing and grimacing as he kept crying out for them to stop. He couldn't breathe and his chest was tightening around him and he had to get away and he couldn't do this but they were making him anyway and he couldn't stop seeing the needle, feeling it in him and he couldn't do this, he couldn't do this. They had to stop, they had to stop, he couldn't.

"Shh, Bar, it's all done," Joe said, rubbing his shoulder and holding his hand. Barry had his eyes squeezed shut, drawing his knees up in the corner of the bed. His mouth was an awful grimace, trying to hold back the sobs. He was shaking as Caitlin applied a bandage to his arm, rubbed his shoulder, tried to calm him down, or at least comfort him.

"No," he said again, but he didn't know what he was saying no to anymore, he just wanted it to stop. "I – I wanna go home," he said, "let me go home."

"Not just yet, Bar, but we're all done with the needles right now, OK?" Joe said, "just relax."

Caitlin ran off with the blood test for results while Joe tried to comfort him. And then she was back and needed another, and yep, Barry was sobbing, absolutely hysterically sobbing, begging them not to, pleading, anything. He backed away from Joe on the bed, fought him when he reached for his arm. There was a short struggle and then Barry was screaming bloody murder as Joe held his arm still and Cisco forced his shoulders to the bed while Caitlin took the second blood sample. After that Joe had to keep a grip on his arm to keep him from flashing out of the place. It was another half hour before Caitlin gave the OK for him to go home, and Joe led a trembling, distraught Barry to his car. He was out within fifteen minutes of getting in.