Author's Notes: Written for YJ Appreciation Month, with the prompt "Golden Age." This is an idea that I wanted to write last year, and now publish a day late for this year.
The building was huge, but also a wreck—it was a wonder that the Reach hadn't blasted it away years ago. Still, it was a nice place for a fugitive who wanted to get out of the cold. Lots of room to run around, and lots of rooms to hide in.
Apparently this place used to be a huge warehouse where you could buy things; each little chamber had been a separate store. Bart checked every nook and cranny, though, without finding a thing worth scavenging. Figures, he thought. The meat must have picked this place clean decades ago.
CENTRAL CITY
MARCH 2, 13:16 CDT
"Ha! Look at all of this!" Bart cried, spreading his arms wide to encompass the scene. "I've never seen anything so crash in my life!"
"The mall? Barry asked quizzically, entering the building behind him.
Wally crossed his arms. "Yeah, I'd have thought that the future would have...I don't know, ten-story super-malls. In space, or something."
Bart gave a "Pffft!" to cover his slip. "Please. In my time we have something called 'online shopping.' Trust me, it's gonna be huge. Hey, is that a whole store for nothing but cheese?"
Barry grabbed his shoulder before he could run off. "Whoa. Slow down there, son. Remember, we're mostly just here to get you some clothes, so that you won't have to keep wearing Wally's hand-me-downs."
"Alright, alright," he said, pulling out of his grasp. His eyes scanned the storefronts. "'Big, Big Pants.' That sounds promising."
He started to zoom off again, but this time Wally caught him and began to drag him in the opposite direction. "Come on. Guess I gotta hold your hand like a little kid, don't I?"
"Wally, let him go. But Bart, stay with us. And remember, you're not supposed to use your powers out in the open like that."
"Ah, right! I'll try and keep that in mind, Grandpa."
"...And could you please stop calling me that? In public, at least?"
Listened to the blizzard howling outside, Bart was glad that he had found this building to hide in. That said, it would have been better to find a place that still had some kind of heating. Or unbroken windows. Or all of its roof.
Bart hadn't had time to find a jacket before escaping from the Reach. His clothes were too thin for this weather, and the friction from all of his running was only making them more torn and ragged.
Curling up behind an upturned desk in a room in what had once been some kind of office, Bart closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep. He was still shivering like crazy; his breath came out in little puffs of fog. He tried rubbing his arms with his super-speed, kept his eyes shut tightly, and managed to get a few hours of fitful rest before he woke up to the sound of his teeth chattering in his mouth.
"Do you think he needs another jacket? It's been getting pretty warm lately."
"Yeah, but better safe than sorry, right? Here, Bart, try this one."
Bart took off the windbreaker that he'd been wearing and put on the heavier jacket. "Oh, wow," he said, giving a halfhearted chuckle. "It's actually kind of hot in here now."
"Yeah, but it'll be good if we get another cold snap before spring comes. Do you think all this is enough?"
Enough? Wally and Barry had picked him out five shirts, three pairs of pants and now two—not one, but two—jackets, plus a package of underwear and socks. If Bart had managed to find this many clothes back in his own time, he would have danced for joy—then left half of it behind, since it was obviously too much to carry around with him.
Bart honestly felt kind of uncomfortable taking this much—and even more so because they were acting like it wasn't a big deal.
Bart just smiled. "Yeah, sounds good I guess."
"Okay. Let's get out of here and head on over to the bookstore. Just—"
Barry didn't have a chance to answer before Bart, still wearing the jacket, zoomed away.
He stopped just outside the storm, jumping as an alarm went off.
"BART! We haven't paid for that yet!"
"Paid? Oh."
Wally facepalmed as Bart, smiling awkwardly, was escorted back in by a security guard.
There wasn't much to do in Bart's hiding place. Mostly he just wandered around the corridors, hugging himself and shivering, and explored his new home again and again. Bart had an active mind; he needed to do something to keep it occupied.
Soon he had memorized the name of every remaining storefront, every bit of graffiti on the walls, the location of every half-collapsed wall or unworking bathroom. Soon he began talking to himself. He found himself recounting the old stories that his dad had told him over and over, until they, like this building, had been committed to memory.
"'See, son, back before I was born, before the Reach came'...'the war started when your aunt and I were just babies'...'right here, back when it was still called Central City, my cousin Wally put on your grandfather's costume and went to fight them as the Flash...'"
"WHOA!" Bart said, so loudly and with such wide eyes that Barry and Wally both looked around in confusion. "Look at all these BOOKS!"
"Uh, yeah. It's a bookstore."
"Let me guess—it's all Kindles and tricorders when you come from?" Barry said, sounding amused.
Bart quickly recovered and forced a smile. "Uh, yeah. I mean—all this paper. So retro."
He took a few steps away from the others, feeling slightly dazed as he picked up a random bestseller and flipped through the pages. He had never seen a book that looked so new, so pristine. He thought back to his mother, carefully preserving an old photo album full of singed and dirty pictures, or Pastor McKay's Bible, with each page carefully put in back in place years after they had fallen out.
The Reach used tech everything, but for humans even books were rare treasures. Bart shook his head slowly as he made his way through the aisles. There were books about cooking, books about dating, novels, anthologies, picture books, joke books, self-help...
"See anything you like?" asked Barry, who seemed to notice his grandson's suddenly awe.
Bart jumped and spun around. "Huh?"
Wally reappeared before Barry could answer. "Okay, I got what I need for my class. And, hey—here. Think of it as a really early birthday present."
He held out a book toward Bart, who stared.
"What's this?"
"An almanac. Thought it could help you learn a little bit more about the present, since it looks like you're gonna be stuck here for a while."
"Um—th-thanks," he said, taking it and staring at the cover in wonder.
"No problem. Now come on—let's remember to pay before we walk out this time."
Barry put his arm around Bart's shoulders and steered him toward the register, as the young boy continued to stare down at the first book that he had ever owned.
After a few days, Bart had stopped obsessing about the cold so much. Now he was more concerned about the agonizing hunger that was chewing its way through his stomach.
"UGH," he groaned, doubling over. "What am I supposed to do? To get food I'll have to leave, and with all the meat out there still looking for me—"
He heard a small, skittering noise and turned. He saw a rat crawling through a pile of rubble in the corner. The rat, in turn, looked back and stared at Bart for several seconds.
It tried to get away, but even running on fumes, Bart was faster.
"Hey there, little guy. Say, you're pretty plump, aren't you? Don't suppose you could tell me where you've been getting your food, huh?"
The rat merely thrashed its head, trying to break three of the hand that was holding its jaws shut.
"No? Well, never mind, then."
He snapped the rat's neck, then looked around. "Now, what can I use to make a fire...?"
Bart had only been in the past for a few days, but he had already discovered a food called "pizza" and determined that it was, in fact, the ultimate prize of human civilization.
Barry had just reached their table and put the tray down when Bart snatched up two pieces and simply inhaled them—or at least appeared to, though he had actually eaten them in a series of several bites in the course of two seconds. The others just stared as he snatched up a third piece.
Bart paused, his mouth full of food. "Sowwy," he said, then swallowed. "I guess some of that was actually supposed to be for you guys, huh?"
Wally continued to stare at him, but directed his question to Barry. "Remember when I first got my powers and you said how weird it was to find somebody who ate faster than you?"
"Yup." Barry rose to his feet. "Be right back with some more, I guess."
He walked off. Bart was now staring down at his remaining pizza, not eating.
"Dude, you've already had half, you might as well finish." Then Wally blinked. "Bart?"
The younger boy had made a soft, sudden gasp, and though he couldn't see his face, Wally saw a drop of water fall down onto the tabletop. He quickly stood up, grabbing Bart by the shoulder.
"Bart! You okay, man?"
Bart looked up, and though his eyes were, in fact, filled with tears, he had a huge, toothy grin on his face.
"Yeah, fine! Just—ate too fast, and it's really hot, huh?! Whoo!"
He grabbed one of the drinks from the tray and sucked down half of it at once—it was the coldest, sweetest thing that Bart had ever tasted, and he had to struggle hard not to let out another sob of pleasure as he drank it. Wally sat back down, shaking his head.
"You have got to calm down, man. I was actually worried for a second."
"Yeah, sorry! Just, you know...a little excited."
He looked away, and let his eyes wander over the scene. All these stores, all of the people milling around them, all of the restaurants in the food court where you could order as much as you wanted and then go back for some more...
Bart felt his hand begin to shake. He moved it under the table where Wally couldn't see it, then balled it into a fist as he looked up, meeting his cousin's gaze.
"You know what?" he said, his voice far more even now. "I think I'm starting to like the past."
"Well...good. Glad to hear it."
Bart took a slow, careful bite of his pizza, rolling it over in his mouth to savor the taste.
I came back to a golden age, he thought. And I'll do anything that I can to keep it from ending.