Ahh! This literally just wrote itself and ended up entirely different than my original plot but I'm actually okay with it! Of course, it's Barry and Oliver centric because this wouldn't be my account otherwise. Anywho, I hope you like the story and are staying safe during quarantine! Stay awesome.

Disclaimer: Ugh, I wish. But I, sadly, do not own this.

Oliver barely managed to surppress the groan that was building in his throat as he shifted on the scratchy material beneath him. He could feel a dull ache in his abdomen and-

Wait a second. He knew that material.

He was in STAR Labs.

This time, he did groan.

What on earth did I do now?

Blinking a few times, he managed to get his eyes open and blinked blearily up at the tile spinning slightly above him. Yep. That tacky white tiling could only belong to one place.

STAR Labs.

"Howdy, neighbor," Came a voice from beside him and no, he did not flinch. He twisted his head to the side, grimacing as he noticed a new pain in his head.

That would explain the blurry vision, since his forehead felt like an anvil was pounding against it.

"Wha'?" He choked out and Barry grinned.

"About time you were speaking again," Barry sighed dramatically. "It's been lonely trying to keep myself entertained these past couple of days with no one to talk to. I mean, of course I love Cisco and his rambling but he's not always the best at conversation plus he's not always here and then there's-"

"Barry," Oliver ground out, bringing a hand to his head.

"Yeah?"

"Stop talking."

"Right, sorry. It's just-"

"Barry-" Oliver started, turning to look at him again and to tell him to shut up, but stopping suddenly to frown. He hadn't noticed before that Barry was in the same predicament he was. "What are you doing?"

Barry raised his brows.

"Uh, not talking?"

"No," Oliver shook his head, wincing in regret immediately. "I mean," He gestured loosely at Barry's prone form. "What are you doing?"

"Oh. You don't remember?"

"No. Last thing I remember was arriving in Central City," Barry's frown got even deeper, if possible.

"Might need to get that checked out," He murmured more to himself than to Oliver, looking away briefly. He glanced back up, cheeriness back instantly and Oliver almost groaned because he did not want to deal with this side of Barry now.

"Um, long story short. You came to Central City to help us catch a meta-human, we both got kidnapped, stayed in a creepy old warehouse in the middle of nowhere, got rescued, and have been here for three days."

Oliver blinked.

"What?"

"Yeah, I know. Kind of a lot to take in," Barry grimaced in sympathy and Oliver turned his gaze back up to the ceiling. He frowned.

"I don't...I don't remember any of that."

"Well, I guess you can count yourself lucky," Barry offered, still using that overly cheery tone of his but this time Oliver didn't fail to miss the hitch in his words.

"Barry," He paused, unsure of why he was even asking. "What happene-"

"I'm gonna' call Caitlin." Barry cut him off. "Should have done that right away, I guess. But she needs to take a look at you, what with you being mostly unconscious for three days." Barry smirked, but Oliver noticed this time, it wasn't filled with the same mirth as before.

He looked...tired.

That was really the only way Oliver could explain it.

He wanted to ask more, to understand this sudden shift in Barry - no matter if it seemed minute, Oliver knew - but then Caitlin was coming in and fussing over him and he knew soon Felicity would be, too.

He shot a quick glance over at Barry, who was talking casually to Caitlin but held himself stiff and still and Oliver couldn't shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong-

And then he remembered.

Barry said they'd been here three days.

But Barry had super-healing.

The memories came in gradually after that.

Not much, really, but Oliver was beginning to remember the time before they were captured. Just nothing after.

Part of him realized he should be grateful for that, once he managed to make Felicity tell him how long it had been before they'd been found.

Two days.

He blanched at that.

Because really, that wasn't that long. He'd been held captive for far longer. But the unease came from knowing that he didn't remember a single thing that had happened, yet Barry did.

Well, he denied that fact but Oliver knew.

He could see it in the way Barry would look over his shoulder, panic brushing over his face for a brief moment before that dopey grin replaced it with ease. He'd seen it in the way Barry flinched at every loud sound and winced at the sight of any wounds Oliver had while Caitlin was treating them.

He had yet to see any of Barry's.

He had been released from hospital arrest as Cisco had called it, the same evening Oliver had woken up.

And despite the many amount of times he had asked, Barry assured him he was fine.

So he'd resorted to asking others because that was quite frankly, a load of crap.

But no one else offered him any more of an answer than Barry had and now Oliver was at a loss.

He knew Barry wasn't okay. Definitely not with all of the flinching and over-paranoid things he was doing. They may be small, and nearly unnoticeable, but Oliver knew that look.

He had worn it himself, many times.

If only he could remember what the hell had happened those two days.

But part of him wondered if he was better off not knowing.

Twenty seven hours later and Oliver had his first memory.

Cisco had been flipping through the TV channels that evening in STAR Labs, aimlessly, when he'd stumbled upon an informercial.

And it was so silly, really.

It had simply been a cooking channel. Some small, insignificant business trying to sell appliances and kitchenware.

But for some reason, seeing the utensils and the glints of silver he felt a feeling of unease building in his chest.

He'd never felt that way before, upon seeing knives or any other sharp objects - he was certainly no stranger to them. Not even before Lian Yu.

So why did he feel that way now?

Glancing over at Barry - he didn't know why he did that, and yet somehow he still just knew - he noticed the way Barry had frozen, staring at the screen in almost some sort of trance.

It wasn't until they got to the part of the show about freezers that suddenly Barry was excusing himself from the room.

This wasn't right.

He got up to follow Barry but decided to glance at the screen once more and saw the host holding one of their new knives.

Special edition.

And suddenly Oliver wasn't looking at the informercial anymore.

Instead he was in some dark space, and there was the glint of metal and the-

Oh, God, the screams.

But it was gone before he could tell whose voice it was.

Yet it didn't stop him from feeling comepletely and utterly sick to his stomach because that voice wasn't meant to scream-

He barely made it to the restroom in time before his lunch had spilled out of him like the memories slowly leaking out of the corners of his mind.

The first couple of nights had been dreamless.

Which was a blessing, he supposed.

Because on the third night he woke up with a scream stuck in his throat and his heart nearly pounding right out of his chest.

It took him a minute, to recognize his dark surroundings for what they were, and not what they had been. Which he didn't understand, because he couldn't even remember that place-

But subconsciously he wondered if he didn't want to. Maybe that's why he couldn't recall what had happened.

He swiped a hand over his face, not surprised to find the dampness on his face at the touch. With a heavy sigh, he made his way out of his bed and towards the door to the hallway. He was staying at Barry's, er, Joe's place for his recovery because Barry had absollutely refused to let him and Felicity stay any place elsewhere.

And really, how could Oliver resist the younger man's puppy dog eyes?

He made his way to the living room - he didn't know why he was going there but for some reason he just felt the need to - and was only slightly surprised to find someone already sitting on the couch.

"Nightmares?" Barry asked quietly, as Oliver sat down on the edge of the couch near him.

"Couldn't sleep," He lied, easily. "You?"

"Couldn't sleep." Barry mimicked, never once taking his eyes off of the screen before him. In the faint glow lighting up Barry's face, Oliver could see the tick in his jaw and knew the answer wasn't that simple.

He wanted to ask.

He wanted to know.

But instead, he settled for leaning back into the couch and watching whatever mindless sitcom played on the screen in front of them.

He knew neither one of them would get any more sleep that night.

An odd thing Oliver realized in the day that followed, was that he felt very uncomfortable not knowing where Barry was at all times.

Sure, he was one of Oliver's friends and he was protective of all of them.

But, this was different.

This was...scary, almost.

It was like an instinct. He had to know where Barry was, and what he was doing at all times. He needed to know.

Of course Oliver knew that Barry was more than capable of handling himself and whatever may come his way, but for some reason that simply wasn't enough for him.

And so, when Barry showed up at STAR Labs that afternoon, covered in soot and saying "it was just a small house fire, nothing to worry about", no one understood why Oliver got so angry about it.

He didn't even understand it, himself.

"What were you thinking, Barry?" He berated and Barry raised a dirtied brow as he tossed his cowl on the table beside him.

"Uh, I was thinking there was a fire and people that needed saving," Barry explained and Oliver rolled his eyes, thankful that Cisco and Felicity had chosen to leave the room, knowing what would inevitably go down.

"Not good enough, Barry. You should have had backup-"

"It was just a little fire. And besides there wasn't enough time to call for you guys," He stated simply, and Oliver felt a spark of annoyance light in his chest at his flippancy.

"So? What if there had been trouble? What if-" He stopped, abruptly, unsure of where he was even going with that.

This whole thing was ridiculous.

He didn't even understand why he was making such a big deal about it.

About everything.

Barry's face softened, and Oliver didn't know why but at the same time felt a sense of relief at being understood.

"I can take care of myself, Ollie." He admitted quietly, and Oliver merely stared at him, confused and conflicted and just wanting to ask what he was even doing anymore and what had happened-

"I know." He said instead, and watched as Barry nodded before his brows furrowed.

"Is this about what ha-" He stopped, suddenly, a brief flash of something crossing over his features and Oliver felt himself frown.

"Barry?"

"Never mind. Really," He added, at Oliver's skeptic look. "I don't even know what I was going to ask." He lied and Oliver wanted to scoff because yeah, Barry, sure you didn't.

But instead he let it drop and spent the rest of the day cursing himself for it because damn it, he wanted to know.

Because this wasn't right.

And he wasn't sure how much longer he could stand it.

He was going to lose it.

Honestly, Oliver was surprised how he'd managed to make it this far.

He was frustrated, and he was annoyed.

Frustrated at the fact that he couldn't remember anything that had happened, and annoyed at himself for feeling the way he did. He'd really like to understand this sudden protectiveness over Barry, and why he always felt on edge.

It didn't help the fact that Barry walked around looking as if someone was always about to jump out and grab him, but trying to cover it up by being overly cheery and optimistic.

As if they couldn't see right through it.

As if Oliver, couldn't.

And maybe that's what made him so, angry, quite honestly.

The fact that everyone knew yet Oliver didn't and no one wanted to tell him. Was the answer really that horrible that everyone felt he couldn't take it?

Part of him feared that, yeah, maybe it was.

And he was reminded of the fact that he didn't know with the way Barry walked around 24/7 looking liked a kicked puppy trying to hide the fact he'd been abused.

Oliver stopped, and blinked.

For some reason that analogy fit all too perfectly and it about made him sick.

Okay, that was enough.

It was about time that someone told him about what had happened in those two days.

Making up his mind without a second thought - if he even began to think about what he was about to do, about to learn, he would have backtracked his way to Star City and never looked back - he made his way up the stairs of the house and to Barry's room, slamming the door open.

Really, he should have given that more thought, considering how on edge Barry had been as of late, but he couldn't waste another second, he had to know.

He needed to know-

For the second time, in the past five minutes, Oliver stopped, and could only merely blink.

Inside the room, stood Barry, chest bare as he dropped the shirt he'd been holding to the floor in his fright.

Oliver blanched at the sight before him.

All across Barry's chest was a mixture of black and blue and red and-

-and then Barry was bending down to quickly retrive his fallen shirt and yank it on but it was too late, it was too late-

-too late because he'd seen the slash marks and the angry red welts forming on his back and it was suddenly all coming back so quickly that Oliver had to resist the urge to curl into a ball on the floor right then and there.

The screams echoed in his mind once more and oh, God, oh God-

He wanted to cover his ears, to get that sound of his head because it was so wrong-

-but all he could do was stare.

Images and memories flashed before him of red and silver and it's too cold, you have to stop, he's going to die-

-"why don't you pick on someone else, huh? I bet you're afraid. You don't dare to come after someone with powers, is that it?"-

No, Barry stop-

You stupid, stupid, brave idiot.

-"you were right, Mr. Allen. Your screams bring me much more pleasure than Mr. Queen's silence-"-

"oh, screw you and your villain monologues-"-

The words were cut off with a blood curdling scream and Oliver flinched even though he knew it was just a memory but it was still real and it had happened-

Oliver jolted back at the touch on his hand, and nearly bumped back into the wall behind him.

He blinked, prepared to fight when his eyes suddenly registered who was standing in front of him and his face nearly crumbled.

Barry stood there, arm slightly outreached as if he were afraid to touch him but wouldn't let the fear get the best of him and wasn't that just like him?

-"I can take it, Ollie. I can take care of myself-"

But the words were strained and he remembered seeing the blood trailing down his jaw with the sickening feeling of helplessness washing over him and-

This time, he felt Barry grab his arm, and let him.

"-'liver? Are you okay?" Barry was asking, this time in the moment, and Oliver blinked back the tears in his eyes at the sight of Barry in front of him.

Alive, and not bleeding, not dying-

He wanted to cry. And he wanted to laugh.

But mostly, he wanted to yell and scream at the man for being so ridiculously selfless-

Instead, he pulled him in for a hug.

Because yes, he was a brave and stupid fool but he was alive and so was Oliver and that's what mattered.

After a moment, Barry got over his shock and hugged him back just as tightly. And if the other man shuddered beneath his touch, choking on a muffled sob because he knew, he knew-

Oliver wouldn't say anything.

How could he, when there were tears running down his own face just the same?

Nothing about what had happened was okay.

But he knew that in time, they would be.

And as they stood there, in the middle of Joe's house, in the middle of Central City - safe -, Oliver knew.

That was all that mattered.

Ta-da! I really hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I had a lot of fun with this type of style, and am looking forward to doing it again. Feel free to let me know your thoughts by commenting! :D