A/N: Based on/after the JLU episode "Wake the Dead". My personal thoughts on what happened when Shayera went back to the watchtower with the others at the very end of the episode.

I am a huge fan of the relationship between her and Wally West/The Flash, and this piece can be taken as a strictly brother/sister interaction, or something more if you support the pairing as romantic. Either way, please enjoy!

Note: this is my first Justice League fanfiction. Please be gentle with your reviews—and PLEASE REVIEW!

Title: Welcome Home

Characters: Wally West/The Flash, Shayera Hol

Summary: He always moved before she could register it—always running off before she could stop him, always hurrying away before she could catch him. More often than not, he was dashing off to do something incredibly reckless from which he had to be saved. But not this time.

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any part of Justice League/Justice League Unlimited.

Welcome Home

She could feel their eyes. It wasn't just a metaphor. She could feel the eyes boring down into her, from all sides. From every angle and every corner, they were watching her. Watching her and (undoubtedly) judging her. They all knew what she had done. They all knew what she was. They knew it all in one way or another. Whether what they knew was fact or fiction, it didn't matter. They knew.

They knew and they let their eyes watch her.

Judge her.

Blame her.

Condemn her.

But it didn't matter. None of it mattered.

She had felt their eyes from the moment she arrived on the watchtower with the others. It felt so strange, setting foot on this new tower—a place she'd never had any part in constructing. This wasn't like the old one…the one she had helped her fellow founding members build from scratch. This felt unfamiliar—nearly uncomfortably so. But it was nice…and it was certainly accommodating for the outstanding growth the League had undergone since she had left.

An unpleasant, heavy cold weight settled in the lower pit of her stomach. She remembered. Oh, yes, she remembered every moment of that day—of those days.

The invasion that forced her to choose patriotism to her homeland over the League.

The betrayal of trust she'd suffered from a man she'd once loved.

The betrayal from a people she had sworn loyalty to…and consequently sacrificed the trust her teammates had placed in her.

Having to leave the League…having to leave her friends—people she'd come to respect above all others. People who she had come to trust with her life.

People she had come to love as her family.

And now…they were the only family she had. Supposing, of course, they would even be willing to take her back.

She remembered Clark's words and his support and compassion—emotions she didn't deserve, but he gave them so willingly. She remembered John standing up for her, defending her from accusations and disgusted shouts that she did deserve. She remembered both of them smiling encouragingly at her when they arrived back on the tower. She remembered J'onn—always the stoic and emotionless one—looking at her with a suggestion of a smile on his face. She remembered Diana looking at her with an all-too-understandable expression of surprise, mingled with rekindled distrust. She didn't expect immediate forgiveness from the Amazon warrior…and to be honest, she didn't know if she wanted it.

She walked down the hallway, her feet surprisingly light and quiet against the metallic floors of the tower. More eyes stared at her—their faces didn't matter. She just felt the eyes. They felt cold…distrusting and unfriendly. She didn't need J'onn's telepathic abilities to know what they all thought, what they all felt towards her. She was a stranger here. Her status as a founding member was limited, if existent at all.

J'onn had told her they had left a room for her. She should go and rest, recover her strength. They knew what she had done—what she'd been forced to do. They looked at her with pity, those of them who knew.

Pity and distrust…that was all she felt from their eyes. Cold and distant emotions that weighed her down…burdened her and pushed her further away.

Maybe she should have stayed with Inza and Dr. Fate. She was welcome there…and she could have stayed there as long as she pleased. Until she was able to find her way.

Find her way…how many times had Dr. Fate spoken those words to her? How many times had he reassured her that was all she needed to do…all she needed to understand before she would be ready to go home?

She didn't have a home anymore…did she?

"Ha! Green beats gold every time! Another win for the champ!"

She stopped in mid-step. She knew that voice so well…knew who it belonged to when all the other voices around her seemed so detached and unfamiliar. Among voices that were cold, this voice was warm—it had always been warm and inviting.

Her lower lip disappeared in the grip of her teeth, the skin slowly worked and worried as she stepped towards the open doorway.

"Not fair! You cheated!"

Her heart was racing. Her stomach knotted itself repeatedly, clenching and tightening until she felt sick, weak in the knees…

"Did not!"

…and yet she had never felt so free…so alive.

"You had to have cheated! That's the fifth time in a row you've won!"

Had she been dead all this time? Her body in some kind of detached hibernation that she didn't recognize until now?

"I do not cheat!"

Her hand set against the doorframe. The metal was cool, but it was comforting against her skin. Her tongue flitted out over her lips, wetting her mouth before daring to speak, to announce her presence where it was most likely undesired.

But she had to talk to him. She just had to.

"He doesn't need to cheat," she said, voice sounding much stronger than she felt, "He's played it too many times to lose."

Silence fell over the sparsely occupied room, followed by a poorly hushed buzz of conversation. But her eyes were fixated on him, watching him stand slowly, as though unsure she was really there, as though partly convinced he was dreaming…like he would wake up from this vision any second…perhaps even if he dared to speak to her.

"Shayera…?"

For the first time since she'd stepped back on the tower, she felt her lips move up into a smile. Yes, she was smiling and it felt good to smile.

"Hello, Wally."

He always moved before she could register it—always running off before she could stop him, always hurrying away before she could catch him. More often than not, he was dashing off to do something incredibly reckless from which he had to be saved.

But not this time.

She heard the gasps, the quiet yelps, the shocked exclamations. She saw the startled expressions, the surprise in the eyes and written upon the face. But it was a blur…indistinct colors and sounds meshing together to create the atmosphere around them. Perhaps the exception was the feel of cool metal walls against her exposed midriff that told her he had successfully taken both of them to the other side of the tower…because he didn't quite put the breaks on his "running hug". But it didn't matter.

All that counted was the feel of his arms wrapped tightly around her—one around her upper torso, just below her shoulder blades; the other around her shoulders, angled to bring one hand up into her hair, cradling her head against his shoulder. If there was a breath of space between their bodies, she couldn't locate it.

Her arms finally came to life, reaching up and wrapping tightly around his shoulders, pressing her head even further into his warmth. Yes, he was warm…and he was real…and he was here.

"I've missed you…" she breathed.

His head moved slightly, and she felt his lips kiss her temple. A sudden warmth spread through her entire being, stimulating every fiber, every nerve, every piece of her back to life. Yes…she must have been dead, trapped in ice all this time. And once again, he brought her back to life.

"You came back." He murmured, his smile and happiness radiating from his voice along and infecting her with his warmth.

Her hold tightened around him, and what she previously believed to be mere fantasy came to life as she let it fall from her lips, let it be spoken for him to hear.

"I'm home…" she whispered, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes. But these were not painful, broken tears. These…these were warm. And she welcomed them. Welcomed them just as she welcomed his arms around her and his voice in her ear.

"Welcome home, Shayera."