Parker Sylas, in her four years in Keystone City, hadn't gone through quite the experience she expected to. It was an amazing chance, being able to live in the pizza capital of Parker's world.

The first thing she did when she finished college was moved back to her hometown of Central City. For her entire life, it had served as an uneventful city. That statement remained true for a long time; Parker's life and Central City had been normal.

Until Barry Allen.

Present Day

"Mom, I'm fine," stressed Parker.

"Are you sure?" asked her worried mother. "I can send one of the boys to help out--"

"Jesus Christ, mother. I said I was fine," said Parker.

"Don't be snippy with me," snapped Mrs. Sylas. "But, I'll let you go if that's what you really want... Have fun at work. Make friends, would you?"

Parker chuckled a farewell to her mother, then tossed her phone into her backpack, the final bag in the haul to the lobby. She zipped it and hiked the straps over her shoulders. She stepped through the revolving doors, into the lobby of her new home.

Instantly, her shoulders slouched profoundly. A line with around ten people waiting for the single elevator lift was present. Transferring the boxes from the cab into the lobby was tough on its own. Having to wait for an opportunity to take all her belongings to the twenty-fourth floor would be a nightmare.

Stopping her from collapsing in an armchair, an elderly woman placed a twitching hand on Parker's arm. "Need some help?" asked the woman.

"Oh, no, it's all right. I can't ask that of you," she denied politely.

The woman winked, handing Parker her purse. She shuffled to the nearest cardboard box, hands placed on each side. "Oh, this is such a heavy box!" she cried, in fake pain.

Every able eye in the crowded lobby immediately turned to her. Young men rushed to her, each taking as many boxes as they could carry.

Crowding into the elevator, one man called, "What floor?"

Mildly shocked, Parker stuttered, "Twenty-four. Apartment 3B."

The elderly woman took the hem Parker's shirt, pulling her into the elevator.

"Being an old lady sure has its perks," she whispered in her ear.

××××

A heavy sweat broke out on Parker's body. Straight unpacking occurred for hours on end. She was exhausted, hot, and thirsty beyond compare. She trudged into the bathroom and splashed cold water on to her steaming face.

Treating herself to a break, Parker left her apartment building, finding a new route to the old coffee shop she used to visit as a teenager. Staring at the displayed menu, she hadn't spared a glance at the cashier, who was still entering the previous order on the computer screen.

"Parker?" breathed the barista.

"Iris," sang Parker flatly, "Damn. I thought I got rid of you after school."

Iris scurried around the counter, arms stretched wide open. Parker didn't hug her back with the same excitement, though it was there, hidden underneath layers of fatigue.

"Hey, hey, you've got customers," said Parker, waving her hands to shoo Iris away. "I'll hang out here until you're finished with your shift. We'll catch up."

"Don't leave! I have to hear about Keystone City," begged Iris.

"Will do," agreed Parker.

Iris hadn't taken long to finish her shift. Once the line of customers ended, she swapped out with another barista. She and Parker sat outside to discuss and summarize the events of Parker's life after they split ways for college.

Iris only had five words by the end: "Was your pizza man hot?"

"I hear he's taken," said Parker.

"Oh, speaking of taken: guess who's not?" said Iris. "Hint: huge science nerd, incredibly bright..."

Parker lowered the glass from her lips. "Barry Allen?"

"Yeah, he works for my father down at the CCPD. Forensics Department, but has had no luck with the ladies," explained Iris.

Now, Parker and Barry weren't classified as good friends. It was no secret Barry repeatedly got picked on. Parker occasionally tagged in to aid him in fighting off the bullies, who were, luckily, too afraid to hit a girl.

All throughout middle school and high school, the two had unofficially watched each other's backs. No words were ever shared between the two besides quiet "thank you," and "no problem."

"Uh-oh," said Iris, squinting. "I know that look. What's happening in the flashback?"

"Nothing. Nothing... I should get going, I have to stop by the CCPD, anyway," said Parker.

"Are you working there?" asked Iris.

"Trying to," corrected Parker. "I'll catch up with you later, promise!"

She believed, perhaps, it was time she reconnected with Barry Allen.

××××

The Central City Police Department was a massive building, Parker learned. Directly coming in from the outside, a map on the wall behind the receptionist held directions to each of the five sections the building was split into. She memorized the floor number for forensics.

"Excuse me, ma'am, may I help you?" called the receptionist.

Parker approached the desk. "Hi. I'm here for an interview."

"Job opening for sketch artist?" asked the receptionist. "Joe West called ahead to confirm it. Take one of the passes, then into the elevator you go. Good luck."

"Thank you."

Parker slipped into the elevator. On the ninth floor, she exited. Uniforms were zipping past the elevator, none absent of a file folder in their hands. The commotion had her shocked. Never before had she witnessed an active day at the CCPD. She thought it would have been less busy, and included more donuts.

"Parker Sylas?" called a woman. She sat at a wooden desk near the right staircase. "You're here for the sketch artist position, I see. Do me a favor, take these stairs to my right, and make yourself comfortable in the first door on the left."

"I can do that," said Parker, more to herself, than the woman.

Parker followed the woman's directions. She was faced with a metal door. Politely knocking, she heard no voice, so, she slid the door open. At one of the few computer chairs, she plopped down, drawing a comic from her purse. Specifically, Nick Fury and the Howling Commandos.

Entranced in the artwork, Parker missed the approaching footsteps until they skidded to a stop in the door way. She raised her head.

It was no one familiar: a dorky looking man with brown, spiked hair. He dressed in casually professional clothing. Eyebrow raised, he set down his satchel in the chair beside her. He placed the bag of food in his hand on the desk in front of her.

Parker seemed to be invading his work area. Was she going to move? No.

"Hi there," said the man. "I, uh, wasn't informed of a new partner?"

"If I recall, I believe it was a new boss," corrected Parker. Briefly, her eyes flickering to his blank expression. "I'm just kidding. I'm supposed to be working part time here."

"What's your name?" he asked.

"What's yours?"

"Barry Allen."

"Parker Sylas."

Looks of recognition settled over their faces. Casually, the two inspected the other, specifically, the agreeable changes made since they last met.

"Long time no see," she spoke.

"It's good to see you," said Barry politely. "Did you go away for college? Iris mentioned it before you left, but I can't remember where..."

"I studied in Metropolis. Came back because I missed my favorite Allen," she teased, flashing a cheesy smile.

Barry chuckled. "Well, you're still immature."

"I prefer to call it sarcasm," defended Parker playfully.

Barry, as nicely as he could, ignored her. He did want to speak with her, desperately, though his focus was meant to be on the case of the day. He found peace within her previous statement, however. If what she said was true, about the possibility of her finding a job at the CCPD, plenty of time together lay in their near future.

"Parker Sylas?" called a voice from the doorway.

Their heads met Detective Eddie Thawne's eagerly awaiting face.

"Hope to catch you later, Allen," said Parker.

Barry nodded his head as an acknowledgement as she passed by. He watched her walk away. Quite noticeably, to both Barry and Parker, Detective Thawne's eyes wandered over Parker's body.

Within reaching distance, Parker tilted his chin up, aligning their eyes. "Eyes up here, Thawne. Got it?"

Detective Thawne blushed. "Got it," he squeaked, then began to scurry away.

Parker retracted her hand, wiping it softly on her jeans. She straightened out the grey, fleece jacket hanging loosely on her body, and sighed, a smug smile on her face.

"You see that, Allen?" she wondered.

"I did," he said, failing to stifle his laugh.

"Means I still got it," she said contently.