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He actually stills when she makes her sort-of joke, looking up at her face as though trying to gauge her expression.

"You memorized the periodic table?" That is undisguised awe and appreciation in his voice and the wide set to his eyes as he digests that. "That's so cool. I've tried, like, a million times, but I always lose track somewhere around platinum. Or mercury. Or argon. And all those new elements are awesome but their names are so weird, right?"

It occurs to Barry belatedly that she might've been kidding. He really hopes she wasn't kidding, because this would be such an embarrassing admission. But this is science camp, right?

"Actually, I just came from the office. I can show you how to get there. If you want."

That's... Not at all the reaction she was expecting. Maybe a little laugh, some head shaking and moving on to another subject. Maybe a joke at her expense, though that seems silly in the context of science camp. The whole point was that the jokes here weren't at your expense.

"Yeah. And the new ones are kind of hard to fit into the song." Please, don't ask her to sing it. She'll try and run out of breath. It's best she just hum it and recite the elements in her head.

Oh, but the office. The holy grail. The place with the phone. Caitlin is smiling, and if she weren't worried she'd be beaming. "I'd like that, thank you."

He doesn't ask her to sing the song, but that doesn't mean he's forgotten about it. She kind of seems like she really wants to go to the office, okay, and they're going to be at camp for like a month or so anyway. Plenty of time to ask.

"Sure. You're welcome."

He's finally picked up everything he dropped and stands, holding out his free hand expectantly for the books she picked up before they start moving.

"Sooo, guessing you've never been here before."

The camp, he means. A few of the older kids have come more than once, though he isn't among them either.

She hands them over without a word of judgement regarding the subject matter. It's, honestly, almost entirely forgotten in the haze of a boy that knows her name showing her where the office is.

"No, never," and she tries to make it sound like a joke but it falls flat. Like saying it out loud has suddenly reminded her of how scary and foreign it is. "I've never even been to Central City before this."

For the moment, Caitlin isn't sure she likes it yet, though Barry seems okay. For the moment, she much prefers home. For the moment, she wants safe and predictable more than new and exhilarating because the former doesn't make her feel dizzy or inadequate. Just a little constrained, and she can cope with that a lot better.

A pretty girl who pays attention to him and doesn't think he's totally crazy or just an invisible nerd is...really new, when the girl isn't Iris. Usually, they don't notice him at all, but when they do it's never in the way he'd want.

"Wow," Barry says as they walk. "Really? Where are you from, Keystone?"

He would never have agreed to go to camp too far away, no matter how cool it sounded. It's be everything he's already worried about now but worse: who's going to visit his dad while he's gone? Who's looking for leads about the man in the lightning or other phenomena? What if something happens and he's not there to know? What if the lightning man comes back?

She'd be more focused on the anomaly of the nice boy helping her, of walking together somewhere with a nice boy, etc., if not for the goal in mind.

"Yeah. You're from here? Have you been to the camp before?"

It's easier to talk about this now, because otherwise she's worrying. How is Dad? How did the appointment go? Did they switch his meds? To which ones? Is Mom keeping track?

He shakes his head.

"No. I've never really been big on the summer camp thing."

Especially the away-from-home kind. Day camp is another thing.

"And, yeah, I grew up in Central. I've been here my whole life -- well, not here-here," with a gesture around the camp that he somehow manages with his arms full, "but in the city."

Caitlin grins down at the floor, small and sheepish and a little lopsided, but not willing to risk looking over at him.

"Me, neither. I always figured camp would be a lot of hiking and dumb macaroni art." It goes without saying that such things aren't going to be an issue at this particular camp, where most activities are indoors and the pranks will probably come from the robotics kids.

"Me too."

Joe took him and Iris hiking once or twice, and it was just really embarrassing. Nature and Barry don't get along too well, not when there's so much nature to make you trip and fall on your face.

"Here we are," he adds as they approach a fairly nondescript building. "The office is in here."

Oh, they're here. Something about it changes the atmosphere, and now she's worried about something else.

"They'll let me use the phone, right?"

She's looking at him now, with big eyes and concern, because she's not sure of the rules here and she's not sure what she'd do if this nice tall boy named Barry brought her all the way over here for nothing on top of not being able to check in on her dad.

He turns to her, opens his mouth, and then closes it.

"I...don't know. Maybe we can ask?"

He can't believe that out of all his worrying about being out of contact with his dad, he didn't think to find out before now if they'd be allowed to use the phones to call home. They have to be able to; he's not going to take no for an answer.

"Yeah, okay."

That isn't a terribly encouraging proposal, though. She needs to know her dad is okay, how the appointment went, what she's missing. To hear from him that he's fine and that she doesn't need to worry. Except, as far as authority goes, Caitlin isn't quite bold enough to not take no for an answer.

Her bottom lip is firmly between her teeth when they walk inside and find... No one. Not a counselor or administrator or parent.

"Well," and she looks at Barry as if he jinxed it, "Who do you want to ask?"

The injustice of it all rankles. Not that anyone's around to say no, but what if they do? What if they aren't allowed to use the phones? It's possible. Joe could've forgotten to check. Maybe they believe in that whole kids-and-parents-need-breaks-from-each-other thing. Maybe they'll ban campers from using the phones. They didn't say campers could. But then what's the point of having phones if that's the case? It's unfair and awful and if this rule exists it deserves to be broken. It's the principle of the thing!

"Just use it," Barry says. "I'll keep watch and let you know if anybody comes."

Her stomach has flipped and sunk and gone cold with resignation that she won't be making any calls when Barry suggests that.

"What?" Is this nice boy a sort of delinquent too?

"No, no, I can't," and her eyes are wide and she's shaking her head like it will make her want to break the imaginary possible rules any less, like it will dislodge her from having to choose. "What if they come back? And then I can't call again? I need to be able to make sure everything is okay."

Hidden somewhere underneath his pajamas in his bag, folded up and shoved into a copy of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix is a layout of Iron Heights prison. Barry's old enough now to understand how bad of an idea a breakout would be and how impossible it'd be to try anyway. But he still reads and rereads it and thinks about new routes and strategies anyway, daydreams about if it were possible. What he'd do, what he'd say to his father, where they'd go.

So, yeah, maybe he is sort of a delinquent.

"If that happens, just say it's my fault. I made you break the rules even though you didn't want to. It's fine. Blame me."

"No!"

It is an immediate response, so much that it surprises her a little. How sudden it is that she absolutely, viscerally, does not want to get a call at the expense of another person. Even if she doesn't know him very well, even if he might be a very smart, very tall, very nice delinquent.

"No, I'm not going to get you into trouble for me. Don't you have calls to make, too?"

Barry's actually taken aback by how abrupt and impassioned her response is. He hadn't really, honestly expected it to be a big deal to a girl he's known maybe five minutes whether he gets in trouble or not. Sure, the consequences of rule-breaking might suck. But it doesn't have to be her problem.

"And if we get caught, I'll deal with it. But that's an if, and it's only gonna be more likely the longer we stand around arguing."

This feels impossibly risky. To do something you get caught at, like the wall between common sense and just picking up the stupid phone is insurmountable. But it isn't. The phone is right there on the front desk, a helpful post-it beside it that says 'Dial 9 For Outside Calls.' Caitlin looks at the phone, and then Barry, and then back at the phone.

God this is so stupid.

"Okay," and she sighs at herself as a strange mix of nausea and thrill at the potential of breaking rules washes over her. "Okay, I'll try to be fast."

"You'll be fine. It'll be fine, I promise."

Possibly because he has every intention of throwing himself under the bus if they really do get in trouble. It's clearly important to Caitlin to get to talk to whoever it is, and she deserves to! It is the Right Thing, no matter what the rules might or might not say.

What it is about this boy that makes her believe him?

"Thanks."

And then she's dialing, and waiting for someone to pick up. Unfortunately, it's her mother.

"Hi, Mom. Yes, I got here fine, I just-- No." Her tone had started bright enough, but it's fading fast. "No, I just want to know how Dad is. Can I talk to him? He had the appointment this morning, I wanted-- No, Mom. No. Did they take him off the Baclofen? Because it makes him tired all the time. Yes, I know, but-- Mom-- Can you put Dad on, please?"

There is a long silence, uncomfortable, and more trouble than any imaginary breaking of a rule about phone calls might be. You are not his doctor, Caity. You are not even his nurse. Your father is resting and I suppose if you want me to wake him up just so you can get him worked up about what the doctor said, I can.

"No, that's okay."

Another pause, shorter, followed by a hopeful sounding, "Tell Dad I love him, okay?" and a slightly more resigned, "I love you, too, Mom. Bye."

That is not at all what she'd been hoping to get out of that risky phone call, and she stares at the phone itself after she hangs up. Like maybe it's karma for not asking permission or something.

Barry's not sure what he'd expected, but it wasn't this. A call to a sibling, maybe, or even a boyfriend, or to parents who'd make her smile. Like parents are supposed to. He'd never pretend to be a big authority on families, but he'd expected something that left her feeling how talking to his dad feels like. Not this.

This doesn't seem like his business; he bites his lip, hesitates, then speaks up quietly.

"Everything okay?"

Oh, right. Crap. Barry.

"Um, yeah. It's fine. I was just checking on something."

She doesn't have a boyfriend or a sibling, and he might have seen that if her father had answered the phone instead. He would've joked about her worrying, answered her questions, reassured her. But Barry heard everything, didn't he? There's a small swell of concern that he will use this against her, because in her experience most kids are not kind about ailing parents no matter what the ailment is, but subsides with the need to think and talk about anything but that phone conversation.

"Do you need to call anyone? I can be lookout this time if you do."

"Yeah, okay."

Both in response to her explanation and her question. Because it seems nicer to not ask what that was all about, and it's not like they're good friends or anything. He hadn't come here with any real intention of calling home right this minute, but now that they're here...

He approaches the phone, giving her a nod, and then dials.

"Uh -- hey, Joe. Yeah, it's me." He pauses, then frowns. "No, I'm not in trouble! God, I just wanted to take a minute and call. Look, can I just talk to Iris?"

Iris had promised to keep an eye out for any weird supernatural stuff happening while he was gone and to tell him everything. She'd also promised to keep an eye on his dad, and he'd been so relieved he could've kissed her. Not that, you know, he did. It's not like that between them. Maybe someday, but not now.

Except she's not home right now, which ugh.

"No, I don't want to ask y -- if you knew what it was about, why'd you ask?" He's quiet for a long, stone-faced moment. And when he does speak up, he starts to raise his voice. "I didn't ask you, and you don't get to decide -- no, I'm not letting it go! I'm never gonna let it go until everyone knows the truth!"

Bar, this isn't good for you. It's been five years, and it's about time you faced the truth. I thought when you agreed to go to camp --.

"You thought I'd give up? On my dad? Who isn't you, no matter what you say!"

Don't you talk to me like --

And then he hangs up.

That went well.

Caitlin tries, very valiantly, to keep her eyes focused away from Barry and his phone call. To make sure she spots anyone coming up, but then the volume rises and she can't help but glance over.

You thought I'd give up? On my dad?

By the time he hangs up she is staring openly, wide-eyed and concerned. She was not expecting that much anger from a single phone call, but from what she could get of the subject matter she can't help but feel sympathetic. Her dad is laying in bed somewhere, sick with something that can't be healed, and his dad... She doesn't know what's going on with his dad, but if it involves giving up being an option it can't be good.

She's about to ask if he's okay when a counselor opens the door and loudly proclaims, "Oh, thank god, there you are. What are you doing over here? Everyone is supposed to be headed toward the bonfire."

Barry exhales, angry, and presses his hands to his temples. Things with Joe are better than when he was eleven, but he still has a knack for saying the worst possible thing sometimes. He doesn't mean to, and Barry knows it; but he's still convinced that Barry's dad is guilty and Barry's just in some five year long denial.

He's not in denial. He knows what he saw.

For a second, he's forgotten Caitlin and camp and everything; so he's startled when he turns towards the counselor, eyes all wide with alarm.

He sputters for a second before managing to blurt out, "It was my idea."

PICK YOUR POISON
PIC PROMPTS / TFLN / RANDOM SCENARIO
HAN SOLO velocities	BETTY MCRAE bombsheller	RIVER TAM subsulcus	RIVER TAM (AU) comprehender
SIMON TAM vest	BRIA THAREN exulted	NADINE CROSS bridaled	GU JUN-PYO toddler
available on special request: veronica sawyer, benjamin linus, imani, maria deluca, mushu, poseidon, niccolò machiavelli, malik al-sayf, chloe

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