Find Me (barry allen/ the flash)

11. Childhood Bully

To understand what I'm about to tell you, you need to do something first, you need to believe in the impossible. Can you do that? Good. Iris typed away on her laptop, sitting in an empty Jitters. She was writing about The Streak on her blog, even after she's been told to stop by her father and Barry. It had gotten to the point where Barry decided he shouldn't be around her anymore. Brea thought it was the dumbest decision any man could ever make and was probably more upset about it than he was. So for those of us who believe in you and what you're doing, I just want to say thank you. Finishing up her last sentence, Iris smiled at her computer screen and posted the article. Orange lightning glowed behind her and in one swift move, she was carried to the rooftop.

"You're welcome." The vibrated voice said, referring to Iris' article that was just submitted online.

"How did you- I literally just hit send." Iris said, amazed.

"Speed reading."

"It's crazy what you can do to your voice."

Barry sped in another direction, positioning himself behind her. "You need to stop writing your blog." He tried to convince.

Everyone, except for Brea, has already tried to talk her out of it, and as always, Iris never gave up without a fight. "People need to know that you exist. What else can you do?"

"This is not an interview."

"Come on. You got to give me something. Hobbies, pet peeves, favorite color? Wait, scratch that last one. Red, duh, obviously."

"You're not hearing me."

"My hearing is fine. It's just selective." Iris joked. "What should I call you?"

"Anything but The Streak." Barry replied. Iris asked for any suggestions, but he ignored her. "You said you were writing about me to bring hope to someone you care about. How would he feel if doing that would put you in harm's way?"

"He and I aren't exactly on the same page these days. Besides, you're giving hope to a lot of people, so I'm doing this for them." Sirens blared in the distant city night, signaling that Barry would soon have to go. "Wait, just one more question. My sister would kill me if I didn't ask it. Will you be doing all of this alone or is there somebody else helping you fight crime?"

Barry made a mental note to scold Brea later, but he never answered the question. "To be continued."

~

Cisco, Caitlin, and Brea stepped out of the elevator, debating not so serious matters. "Your dispersal models don't correlate." Caitlin said to Cisco.

"They do if you factor in the seasonal fluctuations in reproduction cycles." Dr. Wells wheeled in from the side and asked what they were talking about. "The average number of bugs Barry swallows in a day of running."

Wells gave a quick nod. "I look forward to seeing you accept your Nobel."

Brea had a thought. "Barry doesn't really run with his mouth open, unless he's talking to one of us through the comms. Doesn't that change your calculations." Cisco gave a frustrated sigh and the four continued to walk into the cortex. A red figure was sprawled out on the floor in front of the computers, more red dripping down his face.

Brea gasped at the sight of her friend and carried him to the hospital bed in the next room. Caitlin began going through x-rays and tending to Barry's wounds. "13 fractures. That's a new record, and that's just in your hand. You also have a concussion, three cracked ribs, and a bruised spleen."

"What exactly did you hit?" Wells questioned.

"A man. A big, bad man. His skin changed when I hit him, like, it turned to metal."