Soaring High
SUMMARY: There are downfalls in sacrificing your life to save the world. For what seemed to be minute for Wally is nine years later into the future where he finds that his girlfriend is married, his best friend is obsessed in quarantining him, and the only person normal around here is the resurrected Jason Todd, and that's saying something.
Being a speedster, there is a source of heat that is generated within me. It is within everyone, but, for speedsters, it is constantly vibrating, atoms rubbing against atoms, a constant that induces a greater warmth than coming from many. In a way, it is the pulsating heart of the speedforce—that links us to the speedforce. And with this heat, it'd be hard for the cold to affect us in any way. Whether it be snowing or storming, whether I am in the arctic or tundra, I'm fine.
But this endless chase of—of something that I'm stuck in—this pattern—sends sheers of white pain across my forearms, my legs, my face. It's as though I'm dipped in below zero—I know that I said that speedsters are tolerant of the cold, but we're not entirely resistant. The environment may not bring us down, but Captain Cold's freeze gun, for example, is a different story.
The path before me continuously diverges into many thin ones, but I maintain on the widest one despite its wildly veering curves. Ahead of me, it is as though the world peeling apart as I run through that dark crevice that is never within my reach. The air is shifting always, but the lopes and iciness are the same. It is monochromatic and bright. My lungs feel tight, but I don't grow weary.
Time is relative to speedsters. We can make a minute into a year if we wanted to. If Barry and Jay (and possibly Bart) wanted to. I'm not as fast, but, still, this rule applies to me nevertheless. Time is slow and can be slower if we will it. So I must have been running for a minute because it feels too long. I don't know how long—an hour, a day, a month—but it's long, and outside the speedforce it must only be a minute (maybe a second).
I'm still running. Suddenly, that black crack of the world is getting nearer—to near, too fast—and I'm afraid. I decelerate my steps, but I end up plunging into the darkness.
I open my eyes, seeing a horizon of snow.
I close my eyes, hearing someone calling my name.