Within Seconds // Barry Allen

PDA Not Permitted

Parker rolled her eyes. She moved to give the act up, but she froze, when Barry turned his head and delivered a fast peck to her cheek. Proudly, she winked at him.

"You guys are mean," pouted Iris. "Come on, Barry, we've gotta go."

"You guys are finally leaving?" asked Parker dryly.

Barry was the only one to laugh. He grabbed his coat, applying his hand lightly to her waist as he slid by her. "Don't mess anything up, please," he begged.

"Yes, yes. Go have fun," ordered Parker. "I'll keep it nice and intact."

Barry didn't need another reminder. With Eddie and Iris on his heels, he left, pulling the doors shut behind him.

Parker sat in front of the computer once more, feet folded under her, sketchbook resting on top of her thighs. She tried to analyze and sketch from the robbery video.

The ability to concentrate didn't get any less worse in Barry's Lab than it had been downstairs. Normally, the loud radio chatter distracted her, but in his Lab, a different subject was blocking her train of thought.

The feeling of Barry's soft lips on her cheek wouldn't leave her.

××××

Later in the day, Joe came to retrieve the sketch.

Parker briefly explained the difficulty of the task. She gave forth the paper, though she felt entirely insecure about it. She didn't believe it would further the case at all.

"We'll find something within it, I'm sure," assured Joe. "Hey, do you know where Barry is?"

"With Iris at some science function. You can probably narrow it down from there," said Parker.

Thoughtfully, Joe nodded, then bid her a goodbye, leaving the premises.

Parker took her backpack. At long last, she ventured to the one place she had been yearning to be all day: her apartment.

In the comforts of her home, she changed into sweatpants and a big shirt. She tied her hair up. Collapsing on her couch, she was about to down a bowl of cereal, when her laptop began to chime.

Parker was left with no choice except to answer. Her video message information had only been accessible to one group: S.T.A.R. Labs. 

"Thought you would want to see this," said Cisco when the call connected.

"What's going on?"

"Caitlin's screaming at Barry."

"Ooh, let me see, let me see," said Parker eagerly.

Caitlin circled the bed Barry sat on. She poked and prodded at him, running through a basic procedure. She was more aggressive than she most likely intended.

"Hi, everybody," greeted Parker.

"...lie to us and say you're not experiencing dizzy spells?! We're your doctors! God knows what's going on with your body. Your cells are in a constant state of flux. You could be experiencing cardiopulmonary failure, or a transient ischemic attack!"

Barry looked to Dr. Wells for explanation.

"Mini-stroke," he clarified. "Probably not."

"You, of all people, should know that in science, we share. We do not keep secrets," snapped Caitlin.

She turned on her heel and stormed out of the Cortex.

Cisco watched her leave. "Wow. I haven't seen anyone make her that angry since Ronnie."

"Ronnie was Caitlin's fiance? The one that died the night of the Accelerator Explosion?" asked Barry.

"Yeah. He is missed," said Dr. Wells. "Now, let's figure out why this is happening to you."

"Don't forget about me!" warned Parker.

Cisco carried the tablet into one of the conjoined rooms, specifically, into where their new and improved treadmill resided. He set the tablet up for Parker to watch Barry on the treadmill. She assumed the other three watched through the glass window.

Skeptical of the contraption, Barry reached his foot forward and tapped on the treadmill a couple times. He looked surprised when it remained intact. "Are you sure about this, Cisco?"

"Most home treadmills have a maximum speed of about twelve miles per hour," explained Cisco. "This one has been Cisco'ed. Trust me, it can handle your speed."

Barry started to jog. He progressed, slowly, until he was running at his normal speed of around three-hundred miles per hour.

"Heart rate, blood pressure, nerve conduction all normal," said Caitlin.

"For Barry," added Dr. Wells.

She nodded. "Brainwave function within standard limits."

"Told you the treadmill could take it," said Cisco proudly.

"Caitlin, look at the glucose levels," suggested Dr. Wells.

"Oh, my God. Of course. It was so obvious," said Caitlin.

"Glucose levels," sighed Dr. Wells. "Barry! We think we know why you keep--"

It was then Barry fell unconscious. His sudden stop caused his legs to give out. He hit the treadmill, which proceeded to throw his body into the mass of cardboard boxes.

Parker snorted. She was forced to slapp her hands over her mouth to keep the cereal from spewing out.

"--passing out," finished Dr. Wells lamely.

"Oh, God. That made my day," she said. "Is he okay, though?"

"Cisco and Caitlin are bringing him into the Cortex. I predict five to ten minutes before he wakes," said Dr. Wells.

The man was right. It was around ten minutes later when Barry groaned.

"I passed out again?" he croaked.

"Total metabolic failure brought on by acute hypoglycemia," explained Caitlin.

"I'm not eating enough. So, an IV bag, and I'm good to go," said Barry.

Cisco chuckled. He turned Barry's body, showcasing the abundance of IV bags they were forced to string on one poor pole.

"Try forty," corrected Dr. Wells. "Guess you were thirsty."

"We're gonna need to fashion you a new diet based on your metabolic changes," suggested Caitlin.

"I've done a few calculations. You need to consume an amount equal to roughly eight-hundred and fifty tacos," said Cisco. He paused. "Unless we're talking cheese and guac, which is, like, a whole different set of equations!"

"How many egg rolls do you think he'd need?" wondered Parker.

"Double the taco estimate, maybe? I'll do that calculation next," said Cisco. He spared a glance from his calculator to the tablet screen. "What are you eating?"

"Cocoa Puffs," she answered.

"When did that qualify as dinner?"

"My house, my rules."

"For Mexican," said another voice. It was Joe, and the man didn't sound pleased. "I recommend Tito's. On Bruckner Avenue? Best burrito in the city."

"I should go," said Cisco quickly.

"No, let me listen," hissed Parker.

"I'm not trying to get shot!" defended Cisco, then ended the call.

Parker closed her laptop angrily. Reclining on the couch, she opened the messages on her phone, awaiting a detailed explanation from Cisco. Needless to say, she failed to stay awake long enough to be told what happened.