Within Seconds: Flashpoint Edition

Love Is A Battlefield

"So," breathed Parker, tossing her ice cream cup into the garbage. "You want to know about my babies."

Barry couldn't help but smile as he watched her light steps across the pavement. He walked slightly behind her, allowing her to lead him down the poorly illuminated streets of Central City. She swung her shoes in one hand and waved her other hand wildly as she spoke; an action foreign to Barry. His Parker was never one to speak with her hands.

"I do," agreed Barry. 

"Well, I have my twins. Nathan is my boy. I call him Nate, Natey Baby, but he hates that. Very rarely I call him Nathan Drake, but--"

"You did not name him after the Nathan Drake," begged Barry.

"You bet your bottom I did," grinned Parker. "Anyway, he's an avid baseball player, although she's not very good. His arm's getting better, though. I want him to be a shortstop when he gets older. He probably will, since I used to be in my softball days, and he's a total Mommy's Boy."

"Softball?" asked Barry. 

Parker raised her eyebrow. "You came to every one of my games back in high school."

Barry chuckled, tapping his head slightly. "Right. Gosh, my brain today is just so out of it. Uh, Nathaniel Drake Sylas. It does work; I give you that one."

"I was playing Uncharted when my contractions started," admitted Parker.

"You hadn't thought of names beforehand?" wondered Barry. 

Parker paused to bump the crosswalk button with her hip, then she shrugged as they hurried across the walkway. 

"I don't know. I mean, I did. Nothing stuck out. Then, he came out, and I just knew, you know?"

Without thinking, he asked, "Didn't you ever talk to me about names?"

"Well, you didn't find out about them until I ran into you at the daycare," said Parker, confused.

"U-Uh, right, right, I just meant, like, when we dated. Did we ever talk about naming our children?" he stuttered. 

"You told me, and I quote, 'don't ever name our kids after fictional characters,'" she recited. 

"So, to spite me, you did just that?" laughed Barry. 

"Of course not," smiled Parker.

He reached forward to pull open the door to her apartment building. She curtsied, giggling, then scurried through the door.

At the elevator, their fingers clashed when they reached for the button. Besides the spastic flinch away from one another, their shyness levels rose significantly, more so for Barry. It was strange, seeing a timid Parker. It was unseen.

"Sorry," they chorused. 

Barry turned his head from her to smile. He didn't expect himself to be having such a good time with her. Part of him expected the date to be a reoccurring heartbreak. But, as the date continued, he found he was enjoying this Parker. He felt as if he was falling into a persona he hadn't seen since he was a teenager. He had no worries with her. Their time was spent learning about one another and laughing. To hear her laugh once more made everything okay again. 

Much to her surprise, Parker found herself having a good time. She was enjoying her time with Barry. Somehow, it felt as it had all those years ago. Being with him, alone, brought her back to their high school days, when they were in love and it was just the two of them. For a second, she found herself thinking that, maybe, rekindling their love might not be too out of the picture. 

"After you," offered Barry when the elevator doors slid open.

"Thank you, kind sir," giggled Parker. "So, fun fact: my boy still sleeps with me. I've been thinking of ways to convince him there are monsters underneath. If not for a laugh, it's just so I can get my bed back to myself."

"I'm not shocked," admitted Barry. That sounded like a total Parker move.

"He's a kicker," she defended. 

Barry shook his head slightly. By accident, he mumbled, "You're so different," under his breath as the doors slid shut. 

"Oh," mumbled Parker. She took a noticeable step away from him. 

"Not in a bad way, not at all," said Barry quickly. "It's just..."

"I'm a mom, Bar," she said, suddenly defensive. "I grew up fast for them, I had to get all my stuff together."

"It's just strange not hearing you swear," he decided to say. 

What he truly wanted to say couldn't be said, not yet, at least. Time would have to pass, trust would have to be earned. Some type of relationship needed to be built between the both of them for him to explain to everything for her. There would be a time, he had decided, when he would tell her about the other Parker. His Parker. For him, it was necessary. Living a life where he had to pretend she hadn't exist would never work.

"Repeaters. Both of them learned that really fast," she said. 

"I didn't mean it in a bad way, Parker. It's just been a long time. You're a good different. So am I. I'm just happy to say that we found one another again and we're having a good time," he rambled. "Oh, are you? Are you having a good time? I am. But you don't have to say that you--"

"Barry," sighed Parker, placing her hand on his arm. 

"Parker," he sighed in return.

"I don't know where we're going with this, all right, but if anything was to happen... I just... I think we should take this slow. I have priorities now. They still come first," she told him. 

"I expected them to," he agreed. "I... I didn't want to go any longer without you in my life."

The elevator doors slid open. Barry, once again, followed behind her.

She started to wiggle her keys from within her purse, warning, "Also, be prepared to answer dozens of questions about how and why things work. Lucky for you, I've limited them to twelve a day. It's--"

"Parker," interrupted Barry. 

She paused, raising her eyebrow. There it was, again, the teacher gaze of disappointment for interrupting her. He shook his head in shame. She had gotten too good at it.

"All this explanation about Nathan, and your girl, it's not necessary. I spent years in the dark about them. If you'll let me, I want to learn about our kids by being with them," he said. 

Against the door, Parker leaned, her arms hugging her waist. A closed-lip smile brightened her face. Her head was shaking back and forth, her eyes cast on him, thoughts too deep in her head to be explained to him. She couldn't fathom the words to say about their night, reuniting with him, or anything to do with Barry Allen. 

At last, she said the only thing she could: "'Our kids.'"

"I think it's time we stop denying that they're mine, too," said Barry, amused. 

As a joke, Parker winced. "Virgin Mary, remember?" she said, then laughed and pushed open the door to her apartment. Into the quiet atmosphere, she cheerfully called, "Satan Spawn's!"

Barry briefly heard the fast steps of two little feet slapping against the wooden floor. His focus was in his shoes, slipping them off on the rug. Raising his eyes, a little piece of him wished he hadn't. Again, he wondered if the heartbreak his wife and daughter's death would ever end. 

For, as soon as his eyes landed on the children, on the little girl, who in another timeline would have been his beloved Melody Nora, his heart shattered for what felt like the thousandth time. And he ran, because, at last, he knew: he couldn't face them just yet.