Flowers for a grave,
Both dainty and distressing,
As tears escape twin rivers of the soul.
Convenient time I gave,
Infrequently expressing,
The sentiment between routine and role.
Words left unspoken,
Considered unnecessary,
Sunshine and shadows, petals and tears.
Now the bridge is broken,
The chance was temporary,
To cross back and stroll through tender years.
Eulogies and regret,
As mysterious as Artemis,
I failed to say just what I really meant.
A cemetery debt,
For love that went unpaid,
And greeting cards I never even sent.

PALO, ALTO, CALIFORNIA
OCTOBER 10, 2016 13:48 PDT

...and the first thought that comes to mind is 'Why are these lights so bright?' as I squint up at the florescent light fixtures that are hazily defining above me. My second thought is where I am in this non-familiar place. My vision starts off blurry, but it's just enough for me to watch an African American woman shouting out words as she stands before me. This oncoming migraine that sets in from the loudness of her voice complicates on making out the words she yells. I do nothing but watch the rapid movements of her lips. She pauses her utterances and quickly turns her attention to me, words sounding like a whisper said in order to keep myself calm. My ears gather nothing she says, only clinking like shaken bells. The constant ringing settles down and the woman's voice sounds more humanly instead of words coming as garbled and bunched together. Still, they're processed faint. With everything unclear, my vision slowly becomes more distinct and my eyes scatter to the left side of the area where two more people enter. One of them, a Caucasian male, wears a long white coat that overshadows his professional clothing underneath. He holds a brown clipboard to his side with paperwork attached. Like the woman whom I took my first look upon when I woke, he asks me continual questions I can't comprehend. My eyes wonder off to the right, ignoring the two when I end up meeting eye to eye with another woman who entered the room with the male. The first thing I observe is her thick blonde hair that's tied in a ponytail and dangles freely to her backside, her olive-toned skin, and the slender stature she posses from looking at her body head down. She wears a dark red sweater with a yellow shirt that's barely noticeable stick out underneath and dark blue jeans all covered with a white gown similar to those the people wore in front of me. Her description, her exact detail and features somehow comes to me faster than anything else that blends in this room, yet I don't find myself familiar with her. My attention is caught short and I move pass her, but my brain keeps pestering me that of the people in this room, she's the only one who looks bereaved.

"What ...name...son...?" The man asks me, his voice a little more broad. A good chunk of his question made sense, but I wait to answer until I hear him completely. "Can you... please give...us...yo...name?"

I clear my throat, the inside of my mouth feeling cottony and dry like a sandy desert. There isn't enough water in my body and I can feel the dehydration taking a toll in me. There's nothing I can do to help resolve my problem because the lack of strength I possess. I'm unable to speak due to exhaustion and I continue to ignore the man while he patiently waits for me to answer his questions. 'Where am I?' I think to myself, managing to lift my head forward about half an inch, but I grow tired too quickly and rest my head on the soft cottony pillow. I figure to turn my neck to view the rest of my body. Thoughts of being here because of something simple as my body giving out on me or I sustained an injury from battle flows in my head. If that's the case, there's no pain when I wiggle my toes, no discomfort in any part of my body. A large baby-blue blanket covers my entire physical structure except for my arms that relax on my chest. IV's and a few needles stick in my skin which has me assume that I've been put on drugs, a good explanation to why it's taking me so long to get my mind and body together. The puzzle pieces collect together and I realize I'm in a hospital.

"How many fingers am I holding Mr. West?" The female doctor asks me, pouring more questions as if I'm fully conscious.

My headache tricks me to believing she's holding four when I know there are two in my face. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing escapes my chapped lips. I'm beat and something easy as speaking will use to much energy I don't have. The last thing I worry about is trying to get out of bed and start rambling off with questions I have about the situation that led me here. I remain mute and everything around me slowly becomes settle. The volume from the television that's mounted to the corner of the wall in the background can be heard. A weatherman gives the daily forecast in what looks like...Palo, Alto? I blink a few times to make sure I read it correctly, then move on to read other cities near the area; Redwood City, Sunnyvale, San Francisco. The top of the screen has the state, California, underlined in bold letters. This is where I find myself lost. Why am I in California? The doctors detect my facial expression right away and finally put a stop to their questions.

"Wha..." I clear the gunk from the back of my throat once again. "What am I doing in California?" I look at everyone for an answer and for a brief moment the blonde that stands off to the side slight grins to me as if everything's alright. Sitting in a hospital bed stuck with needles, a heart monitor to my side, doctors asking me questions over and over, and I'm nowhere near home with my parents doesn't make me think everything's okay. They remain silent. "What's...what's going on?"

"Everything's going to be okay Wally." The blonde woman says to me with a soft voice.

I take a glimpse at her, strangely getting this feeling of warmth and comfort from her words. Unlike the others she doesn't have a name tag on her gown. Before I can ask, I feel the bed slowly rising upward from underneath with the inclination being controlled from the female doctor holding the remote.

"Mr. West." The male says to gain my full attention. "My name is Dr. Hamilton and this is my assistant Dr. Johnson. We're here to assess and take care of you for the duration of your recovery. We know you've just woken up, but we'll need to start off with you answering a few of our questions. We'll explain to you everything that's going on afterward. Right now, just relax."

I didn't have any other choice at this point. "Okay...?"

"Good. Now can we start off with you giving us your full name?" He asks, bringing his clipboard closer to his face for a better view.

I take a deep breath first to give me strength, "Wal-ly...West."

"And your parent's names?"

"Rudo..lph and..." I clear my throat another time, looking off to the blonde on the side. I can't help but observe the shivery look in her dark grey eyes. "Mary."

"When is your birthday?"

"November eleventh." I inhale another deep breath the same moment I make effort to wiggle my fingers and thumbs. "What's going on?"

Both doctors exchange looks to each other without saying a word, then turning their attention directly to the blonde on the other side of me. They nod in some sort of mutual and mental agreement they probably arranged earlier when I was out. Johnson makes her way towards leaving the room as Hamilton takes a few steps closer to the left side where I lay. "You've been involved in a car accident Mr. West. Your friend happened to be at the scene the moment you crashed and brought you here right away."

"A car...a car accident?" I take glint at the blonde woman. She suspiciously looks off to the side, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I know this is all so sudden for you and a lot to take in, but we're going to leave you with your friend. I believe she'll be able to answer some your questions better than we can." He pauses and sets a pager on top of my laid-back hands. "If you need help with anything else, page us and either myself or Dr. Johnson will be here for your assistance."

None of what they're telling me makes no sense. How could I have gotten into a car accident on my own if don't have my license, how did I get in a car accident, and this woman they claim who can answer my question is unknown. In what way will she be able to help me with the questions I have? She's unrecognizable, but I'll admit that she's been an attractive presence standing on my side. There's a possibility she is a higher expert in the medical field, but that part of her skill hasn't been mentioned and there is no name-tag labeled on her white coat. We are left alone once Hamilton leaves the room. My first action is to avoid looking at her and focus on flexing my arm muscles for any physical signal of pain. It's the only activity I come to think of since I'm stuck in a room with someone I don't know. Her bodily scent silently reaches the bottom of my nostrils, making me more awake and aware of my surroundings. It is soothing and it's almost like I can name her perfume right off the bat. As much as I refuse and as good looking as she is, I find myself staring at her again. There's not a moment where she hadn't kept her eyes off me the entire time we've been in the room. It's strange and almost flattering in a weird way. She gazes at me as if we've known each other for years. What is she thinking?

She gives me a half smile, "You feeling okay?"

I stop flexing my biceps and triceps. "I have, uh...I have a headache, but I'll be alright."

My eyes stick to her when she takes a chair from the side of the room to set it next to where I lay. She is more willing to make herself comfortable by sitting down. I suppose she had been standing longer than what I figured. Her head lowers to the floor, allowing all of her fingers to run through her thick strands of hair until they reach the back of her ponytail, then sliding her palms back to rub her neck. Our eyes meet once again and then blank stares. The air between us stands still. Neither of us know how to start off from here.

"I'm trying my hardest to keep myself from asking." She breaks the silence.

I use the little strength in my arms and shoulders to push myself meet her eye level. "Keeping yourself from asking me what?"

She gently bites her quivering bottom lip, remaining inexplicable the moment she first took steps in the room. I rewind back to all the friends I've had in my life and my family members I've came in contact with, any of the villains or hero's I've ran into my crime fighting career, but she doesn't spur a clue in my head. There is no relation, no connection, no friendship I have with this woman. She is here for a reason and her presence provides contentment.

Her voice cracks, "You have no idea what I had to go through to bring you back."

My mouth still dry from lack of water, I swallow the ball of spit that sits on the back my tongue. "What happened in the first place?"

She can't expect me to know what events took place beforehand and she looks at me confused. In order to make some type of attempt in doing so I rest my head back to the pillow and stare at the ceiling, trying my absolute hardest to focus and remember. Seconds of quietness passes by, but all I can gather is an image of my Uncle Barry and myself running in circles, words being thrown in the background. Then nothing as everything goes black and comes to an end. My migraine worsens.

"You don't remember, do you?" Disappointment in her tone.

"No." I slowly shake my head in frustration. "But I feel fine. How did I get out from the accident without any injuries? There's not a scratch on me."

She lightly chuckles underneath her breath, though her eyes start to water with tears. "You weren't in a car accident in the first place. I had to come with a backup story unless you wanted everyone know you're secretly Kid Flash."

My mouth drops to my chest when she announces my secret identity to myself, but she sits there smiling as if she told a joke. The last person who's aware of my identity, besides my Uncle, is Dick. Her confidence exposes and there's no denying it, so I angrily look off to the television. "So...you know."

"What did you expect?" She waits for an answer, but nothing comes from my mouth. I shrug my shoulders in response and this bothers her knowing she expects me to remember, but nothing comes to mind. She leans back on her chair. "You saved the world."

"I saved the world..." I repeat her exact words with sarcasm. I can't help but smirk, but the seriousness in her eyes and the set of emotions she distributes tells me this isn't a joke. She's the only one who knows what happened so some part of me has to follow what she says. "How did that happen?"

I watch her spiral both her thumbs over each other. "It was four months ago." She stands from her seat and casually walks to the sink across my bed. She grabs one paper cup from the counter to fill with cool water. "Long story short the world was going to perish from the hands of forces from the outside world. The Flash and Impulse tried preventing the almost unstoppable until you came and sacrificed your life to save all of us." She approaches me, leaning over my bed to hand me the cup. "When it was all over..." She sadly looks away from me after I take the cup. "You disappeared. We figured you died. The last message Flash delivered us from you was that you love your parents..." She breaks, a tear slides down her soft cheek and falls on my blanket leaving a wet spot. "And me."

I would've known if my Uncle was involved with a world catastrophe situation because of me being his protege. Wherever he went when there was trouble I was always there by his side. Like her, I'm unfamiliar with Impulse. How can I love someone I don't know? Every word she spoke makes it hard to believe. The main reason I continue to listen is because she knows my identity, but how? Questions will only lead up to more questions. I take a sip of the water to finally down the dryness in my throat.

"There was a funeral..." She continues, taking a seat on my bed to the side of my leg. Her eyes wonder to a decorative painting on the wall on the left side of the room, thinking back to her memories. "Everyone was there, all of our friends and members from the League. We had a ceremony to celebrate your life. There's even a hologram displayed of you in the Watchtower and-"

That's enough. I cut her off rudely. "I think I'd remember my own death and I'm pretty sure I'd remember loving a person like you." I watch her body turn numb, her face expressionless. I have to change the way I'm saying this. "I mean, I'm not saying I don't love you...I'm not, but, I uh...I can't?" It's impossible to put my words together correctly and I can't help but feel horrible knowing each word that escapes my mouth visually expresses her emotions of sorrow. I hold my words in and slap my forehead. "It's obvious you know who I am, but I don't even know who you are."

With that said, silence emerges. Her jaw lowers just barely enough for me to spot the bottom row of her pearly white teeth. Her right hand partially covers her lips just as Dr. Hamilton steps inside the room to check on us. When she bows her head a few strands of her hair loose from her ponytail follow along. A stream of tears flow down her cheeks. Her body shakes frantically and gives away vibrations on my bed as if someone had let the cold air flow from the glass window. This display on her behalf makes this situation more unclear to me. I might of accidentally insulted her and I don't want her feelings to be hurt. "I don't know. I mean...am I supposed to know you or? Who are you to me?"

She can't blame for not being able to add this up. I'm not aware of what the Watchtower is. I haven't even been inducted in the Hall of Justice with The Flash and the other known sidekicks. I wait for her to explain more, but she stays silent after catching Dr. Hamilton. He quietly exits the room without a word. The blonde doesn't look back at me with an answer, only wiping the tears that slip with her sleeve. "I'm...um..." She forces herself to speak, choking on the words she spat." My name is Artemis."

'Artemis, Artemis, Artemis', I think to myself out loud. It's a fit name and one looks to suit her perfectly. I'd definitely remember a name like hers, but nothing comes to memory. The connection we have to one another is non-existent, but it's starting to bother me. Maybe I can recognize her last name. "Artemis what?"

"Crock..."She maunders quietly, "Artemis Crock."

We sit quietly. Voices from the television sounds off in the background along with the footsteps from people who work in the facility passing by. We stay distant and Artemis sheds another tear in front of me. Her mouth takes in a large quantity of air from having a stuffy nose. I can almost feel the vibe of lonesome and sorrowfulness she exhibits in herself. Artemis stands from the bed and walks back to take her previous seat, her face vividly demonstrating how her heart has been shattered into a million pieces.

I rub both sides of my head where my temples located, looking at the news on the television screen that displays the date on top left corner. When I see the year date of 2016, I can't help but look at her with more confusion than before. "What am I doing here in 2016?'

Again, she looks at me questionably. "It's the present day Wally."

"It's not 2010?"

She closes her eyes, disagreeing with a head shake, "What do you mean? It was 2010 six years ago."

"No..." I clinch my teeth in anger, refusing to believe her. Both of my hands slap the front of my face to cover my eyes. "No, no, no."

"Everything is how it should be." She removes my right hand from covering my face, settling it in her own soft hands. She looks at me heavily in my eyes and I watch as they fill with tears over again. "There's no trick to this, no time travel involved...nothing. Everything is how it should be. " We both look below to her hands that tremble lightly; her palms warm and soft. She doesn't bother meeting eye to eye with me and keeps her eyes on our hands. She whispers, "But why don't you remember me?"

Her index finger grazes against my knuckles in a playful manner. I don't know if she was exactly asking me that questions, but I can't lie and tell her I do because I don't. Guilt inside me grows knowing that there has to be some history between us, otherwise she wouldn't be here.

" I don't know." I slightly smirk to try flirting my way towards her. "I don't think I'd forget a face like yours."

She giggles underneath her breath and as quickly as her attractive smile came, it vanishes. Her eyes twinkle with the lights in the room, her skin turning cold. She gets lost in my eyes and seemingly loses herself in reality. Another tear drizzles down her cheek when she tries to speak, but words can't seem to come from her mouth. I purposely gently tighten the grip of our hands together and doing so shocks her back to reality. She blinks quickly a few times...

"I don't know how else to put this." She says to me, tightening her grip even more. "I'm your girlfriend."

Author's Note: How Wally was brought back will be explained further along in the story.