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Barry entered Jitters long before 9 a.m. and got a table. He was worried about how Iris would react when she saw him. His father had tried to reassure him that it would be fine. That Iris would understand once he explained it to her; Barry had wanted to ask Henry what 'it' was exactly but he'd kept his mouth shut. Cisco hadn't been much help either – he had just told Barry that he intended to watch the whole thing going down and had promptly hacked into Jitters' CCTV to prove it.

"Don't worry," he'd joked, "if things got too hot I'll figure out a way to get you out of there."

Barry had changed three times until he'd reminded himself that it wasn't a date and that Iris would probably be too incensed to notice what he was wearing.

000

Iris entered Jitters with ten minutes to spare. She was wearing one of her favourite dresses – a short figure hugging green affair with high boots. She went to the counter where Kendra was waiting with her favourite coffee and looked around for a table.

She spotted Barry sitting in the corner and made her way to him.

"Barry," she smiled widely at him, "what are you doing here?" Before he could reply she added. "Don't tell me you changed your mind about meeting Bartholomew Allen? I'm so glad you did, although this is supposed to be a one on one interview with him. How did you know…?"

She stopped talking.

"You're him. Aren't you? Barry is probably short for Bartholomew." Some investigative reporter she was. She should have seen it earlier. She put her coffee down and glared at him.

"I'm sorry," Barry told her. "I should have told you who I was as soon as I saw you holding the book."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know," he replied, honestly, "believe I wanted to but somehow I didn't."

She nodded and sat down. For a brief second she thought of leaving and not doing the interview but she had never not finished an assignment in her life; in fact she always finished what she started, so she wasn't going to let him make her start now. She would ask him about his book and get out of there and write her article.

Barry was grateful when Iris sat down. She probably wasn't as angry as he'd thought she'd be. Five minutes later he realised his mistake; she was angrier than he'd thought she'd be but she was going to do her job. She asked him questions about the book, why he'd written it, about dark matter and time travel, how relevant those theories were, what his greatest influence was, she also asked him about his job at the university and about twenty minutes later, she put away her phone, which she'd been using to record their conversation, thanked him and stood up.

"That's it?"

"Yes," Iris said, "I think I got everything I need for the article. Thank you Mr. Allen."

"Mr. Allen?"

She shrugged. She didn't have to remind him that it was his name.

"I'm sorry," Barry said, again, "I should have told you that I was the author of the book."

"But you just couldn't," Iris finished for him, "and I get it."

"You get it?"

"Yeah," she said flatly, "I am just a random person you met for the first time yesterday. I practically forced you to talk to me. Who am I kidding, I kidnapped you. You had no obligation to tell me that you had written the book I was supposed to review. You don't know me from Adam, so I get it. Thank you for the interview."

She picked up her bag and put in her notebook, pen and phone and walked out of Jitters.

000

"That did not go well."

Barry had forgotten about Cisco until his friend spoke. "Yes," he agreed.

"It was worse than I thought it would be," Cisco added. "She was so logical and understanding."

"Yes," Barry said again.

"I thought she would keep asking for an explanation," Cisco continued, "and maybe shout at you, you know be angry, but she was just so cool."

"I was here Cisco."

"Maybe you should go to Picture News and try to explain," he suggested.

"I have no explanation," Barry reminded him.

"You could tell her that you were so … enthralled by her that you forgot to tell her that you'd written the book she was holding in her hand."

"Enthralled? Cisco! Who uses such words?"

"Not me," Cisco denied immediately, "but it is a word and I'm sure that there are people out there who use it."

Barry nodded glumly. He was so tired of lying to people.

000

"It's not funny."

"Excuse me," Linda laughed harder. "It is very funny. Barry the cute guy you met yesterday is the author of your favourite book."

"It's not my favourite book."

"You said it was great."

"I liked it," Iris explained, "when I understood it. Doesn't make it my fave, it's not even on my list."

"Did he explain why he didn't tell you who he was?"

"He had no reason," Iris said, "he just couldn't."

"Those were his exact words?"

"His exact words were 'somehow I didn't'."

Linda stared at her friend wishing she knew what to say.

"Anyway that's over and done with, right?" Iris forced a smile. "I wrote the article and handed it in. End of story."

"Sure it is."

000

Iris entered the Baldwin building.

She would get to the bottom of this real estate scam and maybe stop these hooligans from breaking up families and hurting people. The fact it would probably end up on the front page – above the fold – wouldn't hurt either.

One minute she was walking through an empty, trashed apartment, the next she was dodging bullets. I really should have thought this through, she told herself. She pulled out her phone to call her dad, he was the last person she wanted to call but as a detective he was probably the best person to call. She would deal with the lecture later; when she was safe.

A well-aimed bullet made her drop her phone; she ducked behind a bullet-ridden wardrobe and weighed her options. She could either stay there and get killed or try to escape. She looked around and saw an open window, and even as the idea formed she dismissed it, she was ten stories above the ground, she wouldn't make it.

Two bullets went over her head and Iris made a decision. She would brave the window. Maybe she could hang on the outside until help came. Someone was sure to have heard the gunshots.

She climbed slowly out of the window and stood on the ledge. She wasn't ready to die. She was too young to die. She hadn't done anything with her life. Please don't let me die, she prayed silently.

She was too taken up with her thoughts she didn't notice that she'd missed a step until she felt herself falling. She was too scared to scream and the ground was rushing straight up to meet her.

Something grabbed her and she was carried to the ground.

She couldn't believe it.

It was the Flash.

The Flash had saved her life.

000