Weight of the World

It was an office, the spare room. Had been for as long as Barry could remember. And that was exactly the problem. It hadn't always been an office. It had been Wally's room, his place in their home. Where the desk now stood had been a bed that was never made, the filing cabinet was where the closet belonged, its doors never quite closed, the clothes never really folded. It had been warm and chaotic and everything the carefully organised office was not. Every inch of personality had been stolen, along with the memories, along with Wally.

Barry shook his head. The memories were returning now, some in a flood, others trickling in. Some doubled up, confusing him. Points in his life when Wally had been there, but he could remember him not being there too. It hurt, in all the worst ways.

He didn't know what to do. How did he live each day now, knowing that Wally might be stolen again at any moment? That he could just disappear again and he'd never look, because he'd never know? The thought terrified him to the core.

Even now, he was acutely aware how close he'd come to never getting him back. How only a last second save had pulled Wally from the edge, a moment from death. If he hadn't had super speed he never would have caught him in time. If. Maybe. Nearly. The what-ifs were killing him.

Trying to clear his head, he went back to where Wally was sleeping, sprawled on the sofa with a blanket, his legs dangling over the end. He looked comfortable enough, but Barry could not forget that he was sleeping here because his room was an office. Because everything that had marked his place in their lives was gone.

Sinking into a nearby armchair, he never took his eyes off Wally. He didn't dare. He wanted to reach out and touch his hand, just to be sure he was actually there, but resisted from fear of waking him. Wally was exhausted and had all but passed out after emptying the fridge. That at least made sense - he'd gone through physical and emotional hell and hid mind and body were screaming for a rest.

At least his sleep gave Barry chance to think. And he was doing plenty of that. Everything was in chaos and all he thought he knew was being re-evaluated.

The other Wally, for example. He'd always found him difficult, challenging. Had put that down as the reason they never really got along, why he felt uneasy around him. Now though, he realised he'd been much harder on him than he would have been with anyone else, why he'd not tried as much as he could have. He understood now that very time he heard his name it hurt him subconsciously. He'd blamed the teen without even realising it, driven by pain he hadn't been able to understand. Now he did, he knew he owed the kid an apology at some point.

For now though, the Wally in front of him was the one that mattered. The one he'd forgotten. He wasn't sure that would ever not haunt him. How could anything have forced such precious memories almost completely from his heart and mind? Almost. There was one small measure of comfort. All the times he'd felt something he couldn't explain - suddenly happy, inexplicably sad or lonely - it had been Wally, reaching out from the speed force. He had felt it, even if he didn't remember.

It wasn't enough though. He too had returned from the speed force once. And when he had, he'd found Wally carrying on the Flash name, living up to his legacy and making him proud. Wally had worked long and hard to make sure he wasn't forgotten, that was something he remembered clearly now. And he'd not even been able to return that favour. He sighed and put his head in his hands.

"Barry?" Iris stepped in, a frown on her face as she took in Barry's expression as he watched the sleeping figure. "What's going on? Who's that?" She didn't miss the shift in Barry's expression when she asked.

Barry turned to Iris. Wally was a West, he was from her side of the family. How did he even start to explain that there were always two bearing that name?

"Wally West," he said quietly. "He's Wally West, Iris."

He saw the confusion mar her face, followed quickly by worry. "That... that isn't Wally, Barry. I don't know why you think it is but... he's nothing like him."

"Iris... I need you to trust me." He fought to maintain his composure. "I know he's not... not the Wally you're thinking of. But he is Wally West. There are – there have always been two. But he was taken and I... we... all forgot." He got up, standing over Wally, still dressed in Kid Flash colours. Too young. "We ran alongside each other, after I came back. We shared the name Flash. He taught me things I never knew I needed to know. And then he vanished and we forgot him."

Iris listened, growing increasingly uneasy with every word. "I don't..."

"Remember, I know." He looked at her sadly. "It's only me who remembers and I barely remembered in time. But I'm going to fix this. I'm going to find a way to restore him to the world. Whatever stole years of our lives must be able to reverse it." He turned back to Wally, still fast asleep despite the conversation going on around him. "It's the least I can do."

"I don't know what to say, Barry." Iris inched closer. "I trust you but... I don't know. That we all forgot someone seems unbelievable. Especially someone with the same name as someone already close to us."

Barry nodded. "If I hadn't remembered I'd think so too. But it's true, Iris, all of it."

"If you were anyone else..." Iris shook her head. "All right Barry. What do you need from me?"

"Just treat him like part of the family," Barry replied. "I'll do the rest."

Wally stirred and Iris nodded. "Okay. I can do that." She leaned in and kissed Barry briefly. "Call me when you need me."

"I will. Thank you, Iris." He watched her leave, feeling somewhat reassured that she was on his side, despite not remembering anything about this Wally, the first to touch their lives.

Unable to help himself any longer, he reached over and gently touched Wally's hand. Whatever else he had to go through, he wouldn't do it alone any more.

Wally stirred when Barry took his hand, green eyes opening slowly to peer at him. "Barry?"

"I'm sorry..." He said quickly. "I didn't mean to wake you..."

"S'okay," Wally muttered, sitting up a little. "Man, I'd forgotten what tired feels like. And I think I'm hungry again..." He forced a smile. "But at least I'm back... Barry? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just... I keep asking myself over and over, how did I not know you were gone? You were taken from us and no one knew. And the whole time, you were watching... I'm so sorry, Wally I... I just wish I knew how to stop it happening again. The thought that you could just vanish again and I'd never know..."

"You remembered, Barry. You remembered when no one else did. I'm here because of you. Even Linda didn't - doesn't - remember me, but you did. I think... I don't think I'll be taken so easily again." He got up, needing to hug Barry again, to feel human contact after years without. "Thank you for getting me back."

Barry held him tight, as tightly as he had that first moment after pulling Wally from the speed force. "I hope I never have to do it again, Wally. But I will if I need to."

"Thanks, Barry..." Wally sighed and held on tight. Barry was remembering things now, but there was a lot he still hadn't. Maybe he never would recall everything, there was simply no way of knowing. And he knew, there were some memories he could never share, if they didn't return on their own.

He buried his face in Barry's shoulder, remembering his wedding day, and the birth of the twins. They'd been growing into fine young heroes when the Flashpoint came and erased them from all hearts and minds except his. And it hurt, remembering how Barry had loved and doted on them, but he could never deliberately pass that pain on, when Barry felt bad enough already.

No, he'd keep that pain, keep it locked deep inside. And he'd hope, that somehow he'd win Linda's love again and maybe the twins would get another chance too. Maybe they'd all get another chance, once they defeated whatever had stolen their lives.

Barry's hug tightened on feeling his tension and he did smile then. One thing at least was certain as far as he was concerned.

He wasn't alone any more. Just knowing Barry was there made all the difference in the world. Even if no one else ever remembered, even if he never got his life back, he would always have that.

He was home.

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