Bart Allen stretched one arm out and then the other, wading deeper into the chest-high ocean of ash. The wind whistled, high and piercing, like the torturous screams he'd grown so accustomed to hearing. But he couldn't focus on that now. Couldn't focus on how tight his chest was and how the unbidden tears rolling down his face stung almost as much as the ashes did. He couldn't focus on how the bitter taste of bile was rising in his throat, how he wanted to retch despite his stomach being devoid of any food to throw up.
No, he couldn't focus on any of that now. He had to keep moving, continue his relentless search. But the last of Bart's resolve began to ebb away as he heard it. With ever heavy footfall, the solid crunch from beneath his feet was audible. He told himself it was the crunch of gravel, but he knew better; a child cloaked in ignorance wouldn't have made it this far. How many bones were littered across the plateau, obscured by layers of dust and grime and cinders?
"Come on Allen," he whispered through his teeth, shouldering the bag of mixed mechanical parts and gears that was slung across his shoulders. "You're so close."
And he was indeed nearing his destination, for, in another moment, an incoherent rush of insect-like clicking reached his ears. The sound grated on his nerves, but he felt stress-knots on the back of his neck loosen. At least he'd made it.
Bart fought against the surge of dust, and, without another thought, ran into the Reach base. His heart pounded away in his throat as he ran, and even though his eyes were as leaden as his limbs, he didn't blink, not even for a second. A set of skulls were affixed to the walls, and as Bart stared into the empty sockets of one, he couldn't help wondering 'Did I know you?' Bart hastily pushed the thought aside. His loved ones were long since dead, so why would it even matter?
Bart continued to run for a few more minutes, wishing that he could go at super speed. But not with the inhibitor collar digging into his clavicle. His cheeks were flushed and his side aching by the time he spied the glint of metal. The last part required for the time machine he and Nathaniel had been working for the better part of the last three years.
He splayed his fingers over the cool, metallic surface, barely daring to breathe. This scrap of metal was the key to his salvation. If all went accordingly, he'd be able to crash the mode and change everything.
Bart bolted out of the Reach base, stopping only to slink behind a chunk of debris when a Reach patrol team loped along the corridor. He counted the seconds in his head before abandoning his hiding spot.
"What are you doing meat?"
Bart felt his heart plummet, and with it went all his hopes and dreams. His tongue scraped against the roof of his sand-paper mouth as he tried to form coherent words. "I'm... um," he had to say something. And he had to answer soon or he'd be on the receiving end of a blue plasma cannon. "I'm delivering this," he gestured to the metal device, "Negotiator's orders."
He gazed unflinchingly into Blue Beetle's cold amber eyes as the man—if there was any man beneath the armor—regarded him menacingly. Don'tblinkdon'tblink.
The Reach warrior merely sneered, and grabbed a fistful of Bart's shirt, lifting him a good few feet off the ground. The Beetle's breath was warm against his face, as he asked in an empty monotonous voice. "Where are you taking it?"
Bart swallowed. No one in their right mind would dare come anywhere near the Reach base, so if he managed to fabricate any sort of life, his chance at evading the Beetle's clutches was almost guaranteed. "I'm delivering it... to the other encampment."
Blue Beetle considered this quietly, and Bart felt a swell of pride at his falsehood. He was an a-class liar.
Finally, Blue released his grip and flung Bart forcefully aside. A shock of pain rippled through him as he hit the ground and his vision was soon ringed with red. A popping noise alerted him to his now injured arm, and he quickly brushed at the gravel embedded in his forearm.
"On your feet, slave."
Bart looked into those eyes with pure, unrestrained hatred, but they suddenly shifted from orange to brown. A deep shade of brown, like dark chocolate.
Bart was roused from his cold-sweat when the sleeping body beside him shifted. He blinked sleep from his eyes and sat up, battling his hazy confusion.
Several loose sheets of paper were sprawled across the bed, resting beside a Chemistry book. And then he remembered. He'd been waiting for Jaime to finish his homework so that they could hang out, when the older teen had dozed off... It hadn't been the first time this had happened.
Jaime looked so peaceful and at ease when he slept, as if only then could he let go of the stress of fighting his inner demon. Bart also knew that Jaime was a deep sleeper. So, being the thoughtful friend that he is, Bart had curled up against him rather than try to rouse him.
Despite the frown dominating his young features, Bart felt a genuine smile tugging at his lips as he watched his friend's chest rise and fall. Bart's nightmares had been particularly vivid lately, to the point where he felt as if he was reliving his memories, rather than dreaming about them. Quietly as he could manage, he leaned against Jaime's chest once more, and was admittedly pleased to hear Jaime give a contented sigh. They stayed there, Bart cocooned against his best friend's strong, lean body, for another good ten minutes, before he rolled out of bed.
Loud and raucous thoughts were buzzing in Bart's mind. And he couldn't shut it off tonight.
So he paced in circles (at least his body was occupied), before coming to a halt in front of Jaime's bedroom mirror. Light from the mirror reflected silvery on either side of the speedster's face. He watched the stranger in the mirror with mounting interest. To the Team he must look so young. So innocent. But there was a wisdom in the shadows of his eyes. A wisdom only detectable if he was caught off guard. Otherwise, Bart could easily feign innocence.
He ran a small hand along his face. Even with his natural increased healing abilities, there was still the ghost of a scar accentuating his cheek. As if in a trance, Bart peeled his sweat drenched t-shirt off of his chest, and gazed at his willowy runner's body in the mirror. He caressed the skin above his rib cage, remembering each of his past scars. Because no one gets through life unscathed.
Eventually, he grew tired of his reflection, and plodded across the wooden floorboards to stop by the window. The blinds were already pulled back. Sighing, Bart gazed out at the night sky, where the stars winked back at him. He was so, so thankful that it was not the same smutted sky raining bitter sediment that he was familiarized with. But his sense of peace was short-lived, as a voice pulled him back to reality.
"Hermano?" Jaime asked, his speech garbled from drowsiness. "You okay?"
Bart didn't answer right away, leaving Jaime to watch the moonlight comb through his friend's auburn hair. "I, uh, most have dozed off," Jaime's light laugh cuts into the silence.
"S'okay. I did too."
Jaime's relief at hearing his friend's steady reply is palpable as he laughs again, before rising to his feet to stand beside Bart. "Something wrong ese?"
"Hmm?" Bart turned with raised eyebrows to stare into Jaime's molten chocolate eyes. "Oh, uh, everything's crash her-man-oh."
"Did you have a bad dream again?"
Bart swallows painfully, because as much as he hates seeing Jaime upset on his behalf, he hates lying to him even more.
"Was I—" Jaime pauses, as if reluctant to hear the answer. "Was I in it?"
"Yes," Bart responds automatically. Jaime's face falls at his words, and Bart wants to add that Jaime's in all of his dreams, especially the good ones, but doing so would just make things worse. It's hard loving Jaime the way he does, especially when Jaime doesn't return his feelings. Bart isn't sure when his mission to save the human race turned into 'save Jaime'; he was certainly never supposed to fall for the man destined to be enslaved by the Reach. But while that Blue Beetle is Jaime's future, he was Bart's past.
"Dios mio, I'm sorry Bart."
"It's not your fault." But Bart suddenly realizes that Jaime isn't referring to the dream; his mocha-colored hands are hovering over Bart's chest where a nasty laceration is still visible. Bart is also suddenly aware that his shirt is on the floor several feet from where he's positioned.
"Did I do this?"
Bart averts his gaze, but the tears pooling in his emerald eyes are answer enough. Goosebumps lift along Bart's bare chest as Jaime wraps his arms around Bart in an attempt to console him. But it just makes him feel worse. Because Jaime is another thing that Bart wants but can't have. Why can't he ever have what he wants?
A tear slips traitorously from his eye, and Bart feels as if his cheek is being eaten by a corrosive build-up of emotion.
Jaime presses his lips to his temple, in an affectionate, but brotherly, way. "It's okay Cariño."
The beat of Jaime's pounding heart is a slow staccato against the flutter of his own, but as Jaime's words process, Bart feels his heart stop altogether. "W-what did you say?" He wriggles out of Jaime's arms to scrutinize his friend's expression.
Jaime blinks down at the shorter boy in confusion. He repeats his sentence, being sure to draw each word out slowly. "It's okay Cari— agh, I meant hermano!"
"But that's not what you said," Bart interjects with a coy grin. He steps closer to Jaime, so close that their breaths mingle, and he can practically hear Blue Beetle's scarab screaming out warnings of potential danger. "You said 'ca-reen-yo'. I'm not sure what that means but it sounded a lot like—"
"Bart—j-just stop. Okay?"
But the thirteen year old continued on as if he hadn't even heard. "Sorry Jaime, but I've caught you this time." He waggled a finger.
Jaime inhaled sharply, vexed by Bart's persistence. "Just let it go Bart," he warned through gritted teeth.
"It almost sounded to me like you like mmf—"
Unlike Bart, Jaime Reyes was not impulsive or brash. But maybe this one time he acted without really thinking. Because what Bart was saying was going to mess up their entire friendship, and just make things weird. First of all, there was a three year age difference, if you didn't count the fact that Bart was also born in a different era. Second, Jaime had had at least two crushes just this past month, and he'd never expressed even the slightest interest in another guy before. So why he'd figured the best way to shut Bart up was to... kiss him... honestly didn't make any sense.
But what did make sense, was how Bart's arms instinctively encircled Jaime's neck to entwine themselves in his hair, and how their bodies fit perfectly against each other as their lips pressed. Jaime's hands closed around Bart's waist, the tips of his fingers resting at the small of his back. It started out as a soft chaste kiss, that slowly started to deepen.
Bart could hear the crescendo of crickets outside Jaime's window, the roar of a car starting in a distant El Paso street. He could feel the smooth tile beneath his bare feet, and the soft, ebony locks that were trapped in his hands. But his mind soon blanked out in pleasure, and he couldn't hear anything. Or feel anything. Except for Jaime's presence.
It was both intoxicating and exhilarating to let the mind cease and the heart take over. Because for the first time, Bart didn't have to fight his memories and dreams, and the dark and damaged part of him that was always struggling to surface. He didn't feel tangled in a web of secrets and pain. Jaime's touch was warm and safe. And with every kiss he felt a part of his life being pieced back together.
Bart Allen had woken from a nightmare and into a dream.
A/N: I hope this fic turned out okay, and thanks in advance for any reviews and such! I look forward to reading any feedback ^_^