Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine.

A/N: This story builds off the events that took place in Flash v2 198-200 (TPB Blitz). You don't need to have read those issues to understand the gist of this story. A few key points are provided at the end for clarification.

Dick Grayson, aka Nightwing, slowly closed his cell phone. Shock. Numbness. Disbelief. What he had just heard… it didn't seem possible. It didn't seem real. A part of him wanted to say it wasn't real, but he knew he couldn't deny it. Oracle had directly shared the news with him. She had known this news required more than the generalized message the rest of the hero community was receiving from Superman.

They had been dealt yet another blow. They had recently lost Donna and Lilith. Losing Donna in particular had been hard. She had been there from the beginning. Now Wally and Linda had lost their unborn babies. When would it end? When would the pain and loss finally end? How many more would die? When would enough be enough?

Running a hand through his hair, he stood up, not certain what to do next. Once again he found himself wondering if it was all worth it. Maybe he was getting too old for this. Maybe it was time to quit and devote his life to being a police officer. He was good at it. It felt like a natural fit. All those years of training under Bruce – under Batman – had paid off.

Yet all those years had also left him longing to do more than just police work. He wanted – needed – the action the vigilante business provided. Too bad he couldn't have the action without the pain. Too bad he couldn't have the police work with just a bit more – okay maybe a lot more – action. The phone rang. Glancing at the screen, he saw it was Roy. "You heard?"

"Damn, I was hoping you would say it was just a bad rumor," Roy replied.

"I only wish it were."

"Did you know?"

"No." No, Wally hadn't told him he was going to be a father. The fact Wally had been able to keep a secret, particularly one of such good news, meant the news had been very recent. Wally could keep secrets, but when it came to his own life, Wally typically shared everything. Growing up, there had been times Wally had shared too much. Then they had met Gar… Gar had made them appreciate Wally's discretion. "I doubt anyone knew."

"Who did it?"

The fact Roy didn't know meant his friend had received the general message. Some details were being purposefully left out. Right or wrong, the media would fill in the gaps. "Zoom."

"Zoom? I thought he was dead. I thought Barry killed him."

"He is, or at least I think he is. I don't know." When it came to Professor Zoom, Dick was never quite sure. Time travel made things all the more confusing. "Wally ran into Professor Zoom a few years back. But this is some new guy. It wasn't Thawne."

"Crap."

"There's damage all over from the sonic booms. The worst is in Keystone. Babs said the fight seemed to be over almost instantly. I guess Wal had a hard time keeping up at first. He finally stole speed from Jay, Bart and even Jesse." From what Babs had said, no one else would have been able to help. The speedster family hadn't been able to keep up. The speeds had been too much. If the speeds had been too fast for them, they became a nonstarter for everyone else.

Roy swore. "So, if it wasn't Thawne, who the hell was it?"

Dick sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Not surprisingly, Babs had known all the details. "Some profiler Wally worked with. He was injured when Grodd broke out of Iron Heights. He wanted Wally to go back in time and fix everything. When Wal refused, he tried the treadmill by himself."

"That thing is still around?"

"Yeah. Anyway, it exploded. The going theory is that the explosion somehow gave him powers. From what Babs was able to piece together, he's not a typical speedster. He can jump around in time, which makes it look like he moving fast. It's part of the reason Wally had problems keeping up with him."

"Have you talked to him yet?"

"No. I don't even know what to say," Dick admitted. Picturing Wally as a father, well, that took some imagining. At times Wally's maturity level was nonexistent. Then again, Roy had seemed to figure out fatherhood and, in general, Wally was much more mature than Roy. If Roy could handle fatherhood, then Wally could, too.

"Have you turned on the TV?"

"No. Why?" He asked the question even though he already knew the answer.

"It's on every station. It's a mess. So far, they haven't mentioned the pregnancy, but the reporters are speculating. This is going to get ugly very quickly."

"The League will issue a press release." Not that that would stop the media. Dick sighed. Dealing with Linda being hurt and losing their babies was bad enough. Adding the media to the mix made matters worse. Adding that Wally had a temper, well, things could get out of control very quickly. Hopefully between Jay, Clark and the police, they could keep Wally and the media in check.

To complicate things even more, Wally had recently admitted he was having more second thoughts about having a public identity. Each year, the media became a bit pushier. Wally and Linda had felt their world becoming smaller and smaller. Yet, there wasn't anything Wally could do about it. He had gone public. He had taken off the mask. It was something he couldn't change. Hopefully a few voices of reason would resonate throughout the media. If that didn't work, the lawyers would be called in.

"Lot of good that will do," Roy remarked. Roy was right. The media didn't want press releases. They wanted direct quotes and interviews and would fight and pester until someone, preferably Wally, gave in. If no one close did, they would start looking for anyone who knew Wally and then things could get really ugly. Dick didn't want to think about that possibility. "Look, when you talk to him, tell him that he and Linda are in my thoughts."

"Yeah, I will." Dick ended the call. He glanced around his apartment. It was the last place he wanted to be. He could feel the tension building inside him. He needed to do something. He needed to act. He needed to knock some heads together. Unfortunately, it was the middle of the afternoon. Minutes later, he was riding his motorcycle back to Gotham, back to the Manor. Once there, he discovered no one was home, not even Alfred. Bruce was at work. Alfred was probably running errands. Tim was at school. Dick left a message for Tim to keep an eye on Bart. He knew it was a reminder he didn't need to make, but at least he felt as if he were doing something.

Changing into workout clothes, he went to the gym. He went through a routine on the uneven bars again and again and again. By the time Bruce appeared, three hours later, he had moved to the punching bag. His clothes were sweat-soaked. The palms of his hands were raw and bleeding. The skin around his knuckles was cracked and bleeding. Yet, he could still feel the frustration and anger pushing him.

Bruce grabbed the punching bag. "Dick." Dick ignored him. "Dick," Bruce said a bit more sternly. Finally, strong hands grabbed his arms. "Dick, stop."

Dick stopped. He hung his head. Sweat dripped from his hair to the floor. A few drops landed on Bruce's loafers. A part of him wanted to slug Bruce, to take out his frustrations on the other man. Yet, he didn't. One, he was tired and Bruce would easily kick his ass. Two, Alfred would kill him because Bruce was still dressed for his day job.

Bruce held out a bottle of water. "Linda's going to be okay. Jay provided an update a short while ago."

Opening the bottle, he took a long drink. "That's good."

"I…" Bruce hesitated.

Looking to Bruce for reassurance, support, was a nonstarter. Dick sighed. "I should be heading back. I just came to…" He shrugged. What did it matter? He turned toward the shower. Bruce's voice stopped him.

"Tim has some tests tomorrow and can't patrol tonight. There might be some trouble brewing down by the docks. It's been awhile since Nightwing and Batman patrolled together."

Bruce hardly ever showed emotions. Dick could count the number of times on one hand that Bruce had actually shown emotion, or at least had seemed to hint at an emotion. Worse, Bruce ignored the feelings of others. Whether he just didn't see them or chose to ignore them, Dick still wasn't sure. But every now and then, Bruce could surprise him. He turned and looked at the older man, a smile playing at his lips. "Holy crisis, Batman, really?"

Bruce smirked. "More pathetic than usual."

"Yeah, well, I'm tired. Besides, I'm saving the good ones for tonight."

This time a small, but genuine, smile briefly appeared. "Good."

Wally stared at the answering machine. The message light never stopped blinking. He had turned off the ringer as soon as he had returned from the hospital. Even an unlisted telephone number didn't protect him from reporters. It wasn't just messages from reporters, though. It was also messages from well-meaning friends and acquaintances. It was messages from people he hadn't heard from or thought about in years. Everyone suddenly wanted to talk to him. He just wanted to be left alone. The first three days he had erased the messages without listening to them. He had erased the caller ID log without glancing at any of the numbers.

Now it was day four. Linda had been released from the hospital and was staying with Iris. Bart had gone to San Francisco to be with the Teen Titans. Jesse was joining the JSA as a business manager. People were moving on, trying to get on with their lives. Wally wasn't there yet. He had managed to sit through a debriefing with Chyre and Morillo, but otherwise he was keeping to himself as much as possible. When he did venture out, he hadn't missed the fact that Jay always seemed to be by his side. Returning to the apartment had been an exception. He didn't care. It was probably a good idea. Jay was one of the few people he would actually listen to.

He had returned to their apartment to grab a few things. Then it was back to Iris'. At least at her house, they had the illusion of privacy. In truth it was only that the media hadn't tracked them there, at least not yet. The cynical part of his mind said it was only a matter of time.

His green eyes continued to stare at the blinking light. Sooner or later, he would have to listen to those messages. He couldn't keep deleting them all. Today was not that day, though. Rather than listen to the messages, he scrolled through the caller ID log. At least it was a small step forward.

Wally recognized some of the numbers. His mom. Linda's parents. Piper. Dick. He had talked briefly to his mom and Linda's parents, just enough to reassure them that Linda was okay. That had been it. Jay was providing updates to everyone else, or at least Jay was providing updates to the League. The League could do whatever it wanted to with the information.

How could it be so painful to lose something – someone – you hadn't even yet known? Only a few weeks earlier, babies had never crossed his mind. There were so many other things to think about. Sure, he knew that eventually he and Linda would try to have kids. They had talked about kids in an abstract sort of way. What color hair? Eyes? Personality? Would the kid inherit the speed? How would they balance their already busy lives? But it had always been done in sort of a what-if manner.

Then they had learned that Linda was pregnant. Everything had changed. It had become real. The what-ifs changed to when. He had wanted to share the news immediately. Linda had held him back. When she had finally felt comfortable, they had shared the news with the speedster family. Seeing the joy on their faces – well, maybe not Bart's – made it seem even more real. Then only minutes later it had been taken away with the simple snap of fingers. He had been left with nothing except the knowledge that he hadn't been able to protect his wife, his children. That if he had kept the mask, this would never have happened.

When he had first gone public with his identity, he had been young. He hadn't really thought about the consequences, what it would all mean. He had wanted to honor Barry's legacy. Besides, it had been a simpler time. There had been clearer boundaries. The media had been more respectful. Now, most of the boundaries were either gone or blurred beyond the point of recognition. Chat rooms, tweets, blogs…none of that had existed when he had went public. Had he known then what he knew now, he would have kept the mask.

Now, they couldn't mourn in private. The media wouldn't let them. The Keystone Police Department, the League, the Titans, even the JSA, had all issued press releases. Everyone had asked for the media to respect their privacy. The requests had been ignored. How were they expected to get on with their lives when they were constantly reminded of what they had lost? Having to deal with the loss was hard enough. Having to deal with it in the public spotlight was near impossible.

He wished he could give it all up. In some ways, Zoom – Hunter – had been right. Linda was always at risk. As long as he was the Flash, she could always be used as a pawn. Any children they had could also be used as pawns. His friends, his extended family…no one was truly safe. The old Rogues, the ones who followed Captain Cold, had an unspoken rule of no killing, or at least no killing innocents. The newer Rogues were more bloodthirsty. They followed no rules. They had gone after Linda this time. What if they went after Iris the next time? Or Joan? What if they tracked down his mom? Or his grandpa? Was he willing to take that risk?

He wished he could talk to someone. This was the last thing he needed to add to Linda's burden. Iris was helping Linda. Wally wanted his aunt to stay focused on his wife. Like Linda, Jay didn't need this added to his worry list. Jay was already keeping things under control, as well as helping Jesse and keeping an eye on Bart.

Scrolling through the caller ID, he noticed Dick had called four times. God only knew how many other times Dick had called, the times he had erased everything without checking. Thinking about it, it was rather surprising Dick hadn't shown up. Someone had probably told Dick to give him space.

Seeing Dick's name, though, made him realize he did have someone to talk to. Dick always seemed to know what to say, what to do. Dick would listen without being judgmental. Most importantly, though, Dick just always seemed to understand, or at least understand him.

Hesitantly, he dialed the number. After the fourth ring, it went to voice mail. He almost hung up, but at the last second decided to leave a message. "Hey, man, it's just me. I saw you called. I'm…I'm…" He felt the tears sting his eyes. "Man, I'm really a mess. Everything's just…" His throat tightened. "Look, if you get a chance, give me a call."

With a shaky hand, he replaced the receiver in the cradle. He needed to get out of the apartment, but he didn't want to return to Iris' house. He didn't want to see the look of pain in his wife's eyes. He didn't want to be reminded that he was the reason for that pain.

He could feel the walls starting to close in. Where could he go? Somehow, he found himself at Valhalla Cemetery, staring at Barry's memorial. So many thoughts and feelings coursed through him. So many conflicting emotions. Once again, he found himself missing his uncle. Like Dick, Barry always seemed to know what to do, always seemed to know what to say.

*"You always did everything right, Barry. And I believed I was doing right by you. But I got ahead of myself. I never thought things through like you did. I was never…I took off my mask and now everyone I love is a constant target. I try and pretend that's not true…and I don't want to let you down but…" He thought away his costume. The next words were ones he never thought he would say. "I'm quitting. I can no longer be the Flash." Saying the words aloud surprisingly brought a sense of relief. It felt like the right decision. He would make it work…somehow. He would-

A rush of wind caught his attention. He looked over his shoulder. "Barry?"*

Dick collapsed on the sofa in his apartment. It had been the day from hell. One crisis after another at work. Then there was Bruce. That man… Dick wished he could just punch him at times. Then again, there were times he had and it hadn't helped. How could Bruce be the smartest detective in the world but yet be so dense about the little things in life? After all these years, Dick knew he shouldn't let it bother him. He knew Bruce. He knew what he could expect from Bruce. Yet, a part of him always hoped that this time would be different. That this time Bruce would actually get it. Each time he was left disappointed and hurt. Each time seemed to result in another blow-up with Bruce, even though with Bruce it wasn't so much the words that were said, it was the words that went unsaid.

Only four days earlier, Nightwing and Batman had patrolled together. The potential trouble down by the docks had never materialized. While they had gotten to smack around a few thugs, it had been a quiet night overall. Yet, Dick had enjoyed it. It had brought back good memories, swinging from the Gotham rooftops with Batman. It had also helped that Bruce seemed to be a bit more relaxed than usual. Unfortunately, nights like those always left Dick wanting for more. Now, four days later, it was back to business as usual.

He should have seen this coming. He shouldn't have been surprised. It was his own fault. Bruce was back to the usual Bat mode. Dick had been overtired from work. One thing had led to another. It had resulted in the usual fight. Actually, that was saying too much. They hardly ever fought. That's what irked Dick the most. Bruce had the annoying of habit of just doing whatever the hell he planned to do, everyone else be damned. Today had been one of those days.

It wasn't helping that he hadn't heard from Wally either. Four days. Jay was acting as a go-between. He provided updates to the League. No one had spoken to Wally. The media frenzy refused to die down. Even the Titans, the currently defunct Titans, had issued as press release to no avail. He suspected Roy had been behind it.

He had been tempted to go to Keystone and see Wally, but Babs had so far managed to talk him out of it. Wally was mourning. He got that. But he also knew that friends helped, even if it was the last thing that seemed likely. Babs reminded him that Wally and Linda had the Garricks, Iris and Bart. Dick figured he would give his friend a couple more days and then he was going to Keystone no matter what.

At the moment, though, he just wanted to sleep. Maybe ten hours of sleep would help set the world aright again. Ten hours should be enough to allow him to think about Bruce again without wanting to kill the man. He stretched out and emptied his pockets unto the floor. He turned on his cell phone to check his messages.

The message from Wally caught his eye. Dick listened to his friend's voice crack. Damn. Now, when Wally had finally reached out, Dick hadn't been there for him.

He started to punch the numbers. Hopefully he could still catch Wally at home. If not, maybe Babs would give up Iris Allen's phone number. Wally's aunt would know what her nephew was doing, where he was staying.

In New York City, inside Valhalla Cemetery, the Spectre told Wally to run. He did.

Dick paused mid dial and frowned. Who had he been about to call? His mind had been so preoccupied that he had forgotten who he was calling. Actually, what had he been thinking about? After a few seconds, the answer came to him. Bruce. No big surprise. A look at the numbers he had punched, though, showed he hadn't been calling Bruce. He didn't recognize the area code. He didn't recognize any of the numbers. Glancing at his messages and call log didn't help. With a shake of his head, he put down the phone. The argument – er, discussion – with Bruce had obviously left him more rattled than he had thought. Especially when added to his sleep deprivation. He laid down on the sofa, closed his eyes and fell asleep.

*Text from Flash v 2 200.

A/N: At the end of issue 200, Wally goes to Valhalla Cemetery. He is joined by Barry who traveled back in time to be with Wally. They are joined by Hal Jordan, the Spectre. The Spectre informs Wally he could make Wally's wish come true – he could make the world forget Wally West is the Flash. This decision would also wipe out the world's memory of Barry Allen as the Flash. In the end, Wally accepts the Spectre's help. Not surprisingly, things are never as simple as they seem.

For more on Dick's reaction to Wally's decision, see Flash v2 210-211 (TPB The Secret of Barry Allen).