A/N This came to me in the middle of the day when I was literally thinking about what it means to be a hero, and everything that really contributes to the role. If you will, a character study on our favorite speedster. I obviously think deeply way too much, as this turned out to be pretty deep and somewhat depressing.
Disclaimer: I don't own Wally or Young Justice.
My name is Wally West. I am a superhero. But I'm not a superhero. Because I'm not who people think I am.
People practically worship superheroes. They praise them, reward them, and spread their names to the far corners of the earth. They put their names in the papers, make merchandise with their logos, and expect them to pull through and save the day.
But it seems like they always forget how tough being a superhero is. I did.
I worshipped the Flash. He was my personal hero. I wanted to be just like him. I wanted to save the day just like him. I wanted to help him. I wanted to be him, all because he was cool.
I was right about him being cool. He was my uncle. Practically the last person I would ever expect to be the Flash. And that just made him cooler.
I recreated his experiment with absolutely no patience. I was so excited that there was no way I was standing still. I danced around that homemade shed like it was Christmas morning. Being a twelve-year-old kid, I was never patient to begin with. But this was way worse. I look back on it and smile.
When I woke up in the hospital with super speed, I was beyond excited. It took a lot of convincing to get my uncle to take me on as his sidekick. Not to mention being grounded for about six months for being an idiot. But I knew it would be worth it.
All in all, it was. But there were some things I dealt with while on the job that I could have never predicted.
The Team was one. Everyone was just awesome. Robin, with his ninja skills and flat-out Batman incredible-ness. Miss Martian, with psychic powers and the ability to manipulate objects, as well as being able to fly. Aqualad, with Atlantean sorcery powers and water bearers. Conner, who was the clone of Superman. Nuff' said. And Artemis, with her bow, arrows, and pure butt-kick awesomeness.
And these guys are the ones I get to train with, fight with, and sometimes even have parties with. We stick together. When one of us falls in battle, the others are there to help before they hit the ground. When they slowly circle each other in ring with confident grins, these guys are the ones sitting on the sidelines cheering each other on.
And when we fight, they become closer than friends. They're closer than family. In those moments when I look around and see them all doing their own thing and loving it, that's when I really love them. When Artemis fires off arrows faster than I can see them. When Conner smashes that wall, steps back, and looks proud. When Aqualad swipes and slices the baddies to bits and still has that leader tone that we respect and obey. When Miss Martian psychically attacks that creepy guy who has a visible brain. And when Rob's in the background, throwing bombs and bat-a-rangs and doing a creepy cackle that makes me grin. I know I'm not the leader or anything. But it's right then that I'm proud to be Kid Flash, a member of Young Justice. Those are the moments when I'm so close to my team that it hurts.
Those are also the moments when a single decision can destroy it all.
The Team isn't the only thing I didn't expect in the hero business. I never expected the criticism. Why would anyone dislike Batman, unless one, they were the Joker, or two, they knew him personally? Even I get some criticism some of the time. Mostly constructive, but still. The criticism hurts the most, though, is the criticism that comes from my Team.
When Aqualad turns to me and asks what I was thinking. When Conner's face contorts to rage and he starts to yell. When Miss Martian frowns and tells me I shouldn't have done that. When Robin looks me in the eye and tells me I'm an idiot. When Artemis calls me Kid Mouth, Baywatch, moron, imbecile, and a million other insults. No one admits it, but insults from your family hurt worse than anything a stranger can call you.
It's my secret. I'm not the idiot I pretend to be. I'm not an idiot at all. But the world is serious enough with Batman. Someone has to keep some humor in this work. Self-dubbed jokester, right here. So when Artemis shoots out name after name, I just let it go and keep the light mood. No one thinks about that, the fact that maybe laughter is a good thing. Every time someone voices their disappointment in me and the job I did, I just remember that without me, no one would laugh except Robin. And he'd only do that creepy cackle, the one that isn't his real laugh.
I ignore the insults and tell the jokes. It's part of what makes me who I am. If there was someone else to do it, I'd let them. I'd be one of the serious ones, too. But I've had practice at being the irresponsible guy who keeps everyone from brooding. It's second nature to me at this point. When someone yells at me for goofing off, I did it because it's a habit. If I did what I feel like doing, no one would laugh. But I do it to keep us from hitting rock bottom. It's okay to see what the clouds are like.
So when the costume comes off and Kid Flash becomes Wally West, there's a second transformation involved, one that has nothing to do with outward appearances. No one seems to realize that although Kid Flash is a lighthearted jokester without a care in the world, Wally West is is a serious, thoughtful teen with a plan always in mind. But they're two different people. I have to keep them separate.
The criticism hurts sometimes. But like any good hero, I can take a hit.
Another thing I didn't expect: responsibility. Okay, so I knew there was some responsibility involved. But not as much as there is. Every time you show up, you become responsible for doing your part. For performing your duty. For not sitting g around examining your fingernails while someone else saves lives.
But you're also responsible for every mistake you make. When you miscalculate the damage done to the bad guy's armor, and try to send a powerful hit to a weak area, only to find that it's not as weak as you thought. When you don't research on how many henchmen there are, and you get ambushed. When you plan too much, and then something goes wrong, and you can't change tactics. These are the kinds of mistakes that cost lives.
That's a responsibility I pray I'll never have to have. The responsibility of having cost someone their life.
When I'm holding that little girl, a little gray-eyed, blonde-haired angel of a kid who's holding my arm and kissing me on the cheek for saving her life? Five seconds ago, she was about to be crushed by a falling boulder. What she doesn't know is that I almost didn't see her. I almost let her be killed. With milliseconds to go, I grabbed her and pulled her away. It doesn't matter that she has a bruise on her leg because I didn't get there fast enough. She's alive. And she doesn't know the guilt I feel because I almost let her die. And had I waited just a half a second longer, she would be dead.
And when it happens again, because I wait, I barely save Artemis from death when she falls. And Aqualad nearly gets his head lopped off because I don't disarm the guy with the sword soon enough. When I can barely grab Robin and run, because there's a bomb next to his head that's about to blow. When I almost don't grab the Kryptonite-headed arrow shooting toward Conner's head. And M'gann is surrounded by fire, and I almost don't create a vacuum fast enough to suck away the oxygen and put it out.
Because when I'm almost too slow, people die. And even when they don't, they almost do. And it's still my fault, because it could have happened. And it would have been on my shoulders
It's a Flash's greatest fear that he won't be fast enough. Maybe Flash can deal with the guilt, and ignore it. But I still have it. Maybe it's because he's faster than me. But the guilt is almost like a dark cloud over my head. Unlike the insults, it's not something I can ignore.
But I still try. If I'm going to be the happy-go-lucky speedster everyone "loves", I have to put myself aside and take care of the others. I put the smile on my face, ignore the shadows, and be Kid Flash.
Because Wally West isn't a hero. That's Kid Flash's job.
There's a lot more stuff I didn't expect to be in the job description of "superhero". Like a high metabolism, a short attention span, and the trouble of a secret identity. But I take it in stride as well as a teenager can.
It's my job. It's Kid Flash's job. It's Wally West's job. It's the one job both identities share.
To protect the world, and protect my team. I won't feel the guilt of their deaths. I won't let myself. Why? Because I'll die first. I'll protect the world with my life. And I pray I'll never feel the guilt of having cost someone their life.
My name is Wally West. I am a superhero. But I'm not a superhero. Because I'm not who people think I am.
A/N Ask nice, and I'll make one for the other five. Maybe.
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