Rain dripped from the top of the bus stop, forming a puddle at the young girl's feet. It was nothing compared to the pool of tears she had created herself, or so it felt. So many troubles weighed down on her. Between school, home, the general lack of friends... and the constant danger of her father's career. Half the time she didn't know if he'd come home from work alive, and when he did he was too tired to spend time with her. It wouldn't be so hard if she had friends, but no one at school wanted anything to do with her.

She pulled down her sleeve to look at her arm. Scars lined the area just below her wrist, reminders of her previous attempts to stop the pain. It had worked too, if only for a few moments. She looked around at her surroundings before reaching into her pocket to remove a small blade. Time for another attempt.

Barry was late for work. Again. To say Detective West would be upset would be an understatement, but he'd be even more upset if he arrived to the scene with flaming shoes. He was supposed to keep a low profile.

He ran as fast as he could without attracting attention to himself, clinging desperately to the messenger bag to prevent it from swinging around and hitting someone. He passed a bus stop along the way and backtracked when he noticed something unusual. He was late to a crime scene, sure, but his keen eyes caught something just as important.

He stood a few feet away from the bus stop, watching just to be certain his eyes hadn't deceived him. An anxious frown spread on his face as he watched the scene- a young girl, probably a high schooler, was crying silently and had just removed a razor blade from her pocket. He knew what that meant, and as far as he was concerned a dead body could wait.

He stole a glance in each direction to make sure no one was watching him before allowing time to slow, and himself to speed up. In a fraction of a fraction of a second he removed the blade from the girl's fingers and threw it into a nearby bush.

Oh, but that won't make her feel better, he realized. She'll just find a new one later.

He glanced up at the bush where he had thrown the razor and noticed the bright pink roses growing on it. A smile grew as another thought struck him, and he raced to pluck a rose and place it in her fingers where the blade had been. He reached into his bag an removed a marker to add the finishing touch: a message written on the girl's wrist.

There, he thought with a satisfied sigh. He returned to his spot on the sidewalk and returned to his normal speed. His heroic attempt had been completed in less time than it took to blink.

She reached forward, ready to touch the blade to her skin, but blinked in surprise when she saw that the blade was no longer in her hand. It had been replaced by a pink rose- and of the thornless variety, no less. Her eyebrows furrowed as she realized a message had been written in black ink over the spot where she had been about to cut. It read: "You are loved."

She looked around to see if there was anyone in proximity who could have made the switch so quickly, but the nearest person was a rather hurried looking young man faced away from her. And how could he have written the message so quickly? She decided it must have been a guardian angel, or perhaps that 'living streak' the kids in her class were always talking about. Either way, this strange phenomenon would be enough to get her through one more day unscathed.

Two weeks later:

Barry was late yet again, but this time he was already at the police department, late for a meet-up with Iris and Eddie. It hurt, having to see them together every day, but Iris was happy and that was far more important to him. He did his best to swipe away his troubles, as he had been doing for a long time now, and hurried from the forensics lab to the lobby. On his way to the door he bumped into a rather short individual.

"Oh! So sorry." He apologized in the awkward way only he could, before flashing a smile at the unfortunate victim of his clumsiness. It was a girl, no more than 17, who seemed strangely familiar.

"I-It's fine," the girl spoke softly. She smiled weakly back at him before asking, "Have you seen Officer Parr? His shift was supposed to end fifteen minutes ago."

He realized now why she seemed so familiar. She was the daughter of one of the policemen that he worked with every day. She came into the precinct every now and then, but today she seemed different somehow. Was it the smile? Now that he thought about it, he had never seen her smile before.

"He's just been delayed a bit," he replied, noticing the worry in her voice. "I passed him just a moment ago and he was finishing up a report." He glanced at the doors and checked his watch. He'd have to use super-speed to make it to the rendezvous on time.

Out of nervous habit, the girl checked her watch too. She wore it with the clock face on the underside of her wrist, and as she raised her arm to pull the sleeve away from her wrist, Barry noticed familiar writing on it. Directly under the timepiece were the words "You are loved" written in black ink. He couldn't believe that the words hadn't faded yet and he failed to restrain himself from asking.

"Those words..." he began. He pointed at her wrist, and was suddenly made aware of his mistake. "Did you write them?"

The girl became self conscious, and pulled her sleeve back around her wrist. If he had seen the words, undoubtedly he had also seen the scars. "N-No. Someone else did," she mumbled. "I got it tattooed as a reminder." She flashed another weak smile at Barry and looked down at her toes. "A reminder that, even when it seems like no one notices me, there's always someone who cares. We might not know it but... all those feelings locked inside will always be returned by someone, even if it's not the people we want or expect it to be."

"Janet!" A man's voice resounded from across the lobby. It was Officer Parr, who had finally signed off for the day. "Honey, what are you doing here all by yourself?" He ran forward and hugged her before noticing Barry.

"I wasn't entirely alone," Janet corrected her father. "I was talking to mister, uh..."

"Allen," Officer Parr finished. He had met the forensics expert before on many occasions.

"But you can call me Barry," he said to Janet. "I hope you'll forgive me, but I've got to dash." He opened the door and paused to look back at Janet. "Nice ink, by the way."