If It's the Last Thing He Does

oO-Oo

There should be a band playing. There should be many bands playing. But all they get is silence apart from the anguished screams of the survivors. They already have the fireworks; at least, there are enough explosions to function as fireworks. The ground trembles with each burst, but instead of bringing awed smiles to the people witnessing them, it brought upon waves of terror.

Wally's suit is torn, burnt, and dirty. He has scrapes, cuts, gashes, and bruises littering his body. He didn't even bother to keep his ragged cowl up, so his banged up face was visible past all the layers of grime and blood. Batman also had his cowl down, his handsome face marred similarly. In fact the rest of the founding members of the Justice League were all injured in one way or another. Shayera's left wing was dislocated, John's arm was mangled, and Diana's ankle was broken. J'onn had 2nd degree burns on his arms, and Clark was recovering from being stabbed with kryptonite shards in 5 different places. Most of Wally's torso had healing freeze-burns on it, making it difficult to move around much.

The seven of them had been separated from the rest of the Justice League, or whatever remained, and were currently hiding behind a crumbling wall that was previously part of a theater. Wally dimly remembered he had brought Linda Park with him to this very theater for their 5th date. He shook his head and scrubbed his face. Focus. This is the apocalypse, Wally thought to himself. The other founders were trying to come up with a plan but it was obvious that they couldn't do anything. But Wally could.

Wally shivered and tried to ignore the gnawing hunger that was taking up half of his concentration. He brought his trembling hand up to eye-level and took a deep breath. (Well, as deep as he could manage. The burns hurt like hell. Many ribs were broken or fractured.) After a second he could feel flickers of lightning under his skin and his fingers blurred. He grimaced and grits his teeth, his head throbbing viciously. Finally, his entire arm was only a red blur.

"Wally," Diana swallowed, "What are you doing?" The other five looked over.

"I can fix this," Wally vibrated his hand faster, faster, "I can fix this," he repeats. His other arm vibrated, now, too. His hopes were mounting.

"What are you talking about?" Bruce asked, his voice gruff and tired.

"I just have to go faster." Wally's voice was distorted now, his entire body vibrating wildly. "I will fix this," he muttered. He stood shakily. "I'll warn you. About this, about Luthor and Savage's plan."

Shayera grabbed his wrist, "Wally." She said lowly. "What if-"

"It's okay," he said softly.

"No, Wally, it isn't. You said if you ever go that fast again-"

"I know what I said, John!" Wally was losing his voice from all of the smoke inhalation. He coughed into his bloody sleeve and breathed shallowly. "I can fix this. And I will. I'll see ya earlier," he winked and flashed (all puns intended) his brightest grin possible, past all the grime, blood, and pain. And he ran.

As he pushed himself to go faster, he saw all of the devastation that those two sociopaths had brought upon the world. His world. Anger, indignation, and pure determination stood in the place of strength. It took him just as long as he thought it would to go back in time, which was about 5 minutes. (He wasn't able to go fast enough at first.) Images stretched out in front of him languidly as if they were nothing more than pictures on a wall. He saw his friends, the love of his life, his enemies, and himself. They wrapped around him, bright and sharp and utterly surreal. His headache almost messed him up but the thought of having to go through the end of the world again brought his attention back to time travel. He finally arrived far enough in the past to help the world avoid its end.

He skids to a stop in the middle of a meeting that included the founding seven. He shot past the table on accident, smashing into the wall in front of him and leaving a dent. He bounced off and fell to a heap of shaking, bleeding limbs. Chest heaving and tears streaming down his dirt-caked face, he tried to stand and only succeeded in scrambling.

"What the hell?" The other Flash exclaimed. "Oh God," he zoomed over to the fallen speedster and tentatively held his hands out. Wally clutched the outstretched hands and drew in a huge and trembling gasp.

"Lu-Luthor," he spit out blood and continued, "Vandal. Stop them, please, I can't-" He coughed harder and sank down the rest of the way, curling into himself. J'onn snapped out of the confusion first, and then Batman and Superman. The rest of them were too stunned by the image of their youngest member on the edge of death. J'onn gently moved Flash out of the way and, just as gently, cradled Wally.

"Wally," the Martian said mournfully. "You haven't long to live." These words jarred John, Shayera, and Diana enough to have them racing over to the dying young man.

Blood dribbled lazily from his lips, so he breathed heavily through his nose. His eyes were sliding shut. "I know," Wally whispered, his voice rasping in his throat, "I c-can feel…it. It's okay." He clenched his hands and his body tensed painfully for a moment. "S-Stop Luthor a-and Vandal, for me. For…for them."

Flash grabbed his hand and pulled off his cowl. "We will, I swear." Wally's eyes rolling around almost aimlessly, raking over his team. Diana placed her hand on his matted hair and almost gagged at the feeling of dry blood but remained stoic for him. John took his other hand silently and nodded.

Wally's eyes were dulling further and he shuddered one, twice, but took in another breath. "Thank you," he sighed. Fresh tears cut through the grime on his cheeks. "Thank you," he said again. Shayera's hand created comforting warmth on his shin.

"It's okay, now, Wally," her voice was choked with grief. This speedster wasn't really theirs but it felt exactly the same. Her other hand gripped Flash's shoulder and pulled him closer to keep from breaking apart. Wally nodded weakly and closed his eyes slowly. His last breath echoed in their ears as his head lolled back, resting on the crook of J'onn's arm.

oO-Oo

They held a quiet, peaceful funeral for Wally. There wasn't a body. A few hours after his death, Wally's body had disappeared. Batman had told the others that meant the future timeline had been erased. The entire Justice League, one way or the other, attended the service. Whether they were alone or in groups they gathered in the Watchtower together to come to terms with the death of a different Wally and the knowledge that there had been the possibility of the world ending, if not for a single speedster. Words were given and laughter shared, tears shed and overwhelming relief was felt. Not only because they'd evaded the apocalypse, but also because their Flash was alive. Many tight hugs were exchanged between the young redhead and his close friends. Even Big Barda and Mister Miracle arrived at one point and stuck close to Wally. John and Shayera were like body guards, walking around with Wally and always remaining in contact with him, Shay's fingers or wings brushing against him, John slinging an arm around his shoulder.

Wally, as opposed to most people expectation's, was not conflicted. Determination stayed strong in his eyes and he carried himself with a sense of purpose. He would never, ever let something like that happen again. This world was not for villains for take and if they tried, they'd have to get through Wallace West first.

He was going to stop Vandal Savage and Lex Luthor if it was the last thing he did.

A/N: As a dear reader of mine once said, "The more you torture a character, the more you love them." And boy howdy is that right. Sorry if this was bad, it was just a small plot bunny that I needed to get out of the way. I have other things to take care of but I started on like 5 different stories a couple nights ago.