I forgot to put this in the last one so I'll just put it here.

Disclaimer: I do not own Young Justice or the characters.


Chapter 2: Am I There Yet?

There weren't that many ways you could kill a speedster Wally realized frustratedly one night. And even fewer ways to fake their deaths; not with their hyper accelerated healing and all. Drugs to fake the symptoms like Artemis? No go. His systems burned through those substances too fast to be able to keep up appearances. And even though he could fool cardiac monitors into flat-lining when really excited, there was no fooling super hearing.

"Supey 1. Wally 0." he joked half-heartedly.

Stuffing the last handful of chips in his mouth, he flopped back on the old couch with a thump. His apartment had been way too quiet these past few weeks without Artemis. He kind of started to miss the sarcastic bickering. So with nothing to occupy him, his mind would wander and this left him a lot of time to...think. However, with everything that was going on lately, he wasn't so sure that was such a good thing.

He rocked his body forward to sit up slightly straighter, sweeping crumbs that had fallen on his t-shirt as he did so. Wiping his hands on his pants, Wally then folded them together to start running through the possibilities for what felt like the thousandth time. At the moment, there were only three options:

One, die of old age. Even with super speed, that was a long way off.

Two, run until he ran out of juice and "dropped dead". Unfortunately, that would be self-inflicted, so highly unbelievable. Him, not stopping for food? Yeah right. And really, Artemis would tease him until he was eighty if he ever found out what a lame "death" he had.

Then there was the third option, get someone to pummel him bad enough that it looked like he could die. But that would mean he had to involve other people to make sure they didn't actually kill him. Not really- 'feeling the aster' for that one either. He liked his organs staying where they biologically grew thank you very much.

Three equally unlikely options, and no matter how fast his brain screens through other possibilities, nothing else seemed to fit either. Not even an option four after so many months. So basically, he was stuck.

That was until that day. Dick had mentioned a ginormous concentration of overloading kinetic energy and his feet had moved faster than his brain. A quick stop by his apartment meant stuffing money, food and a small stack of paper scraps in his suit cupboards before he raced off to the arctic.

He had found his option four.

-)(-

He slowly walking among the trees parallel to a road he had found that morning. Hopefully, this would lead to a city unlike the last one – a farm so wasn't what he was looking for.

"I'm so bored! Am I there yet?!" Of course, the only answer he got was silence.

His feet had always moved with experience on rough terrain but staring at them now, he had to snort at how absurd the whole thing was. Here he was, Wally West, the fastest boy on Earth, walking! Though it made sense, he couldn't risk raising a signal by using his powers despite being a speedster 'Well, not anymore.'

With a long sigh, he continued to walk among the shadow to avoid being visible to any passerby's. He could have brought some normal clothes and hitchhiked somewhere, but no. For once he had to agree with his old team, he didn't think very much before diving in head first. Now he was stuck doing a weird rendition of Batman skulking, jungle edition.

He stopped dead in his tracks and cringed disgustedly.
"Thanks for the mental scarring brain. Images of Bruce in a loincloth was totally what I needed."

Sighing again, he pulled his second last bar from the cupboards and ripped off the wrapper. He had stuffed as many of his special high energy bars in there as possible but he was definitely running low. The silent forest echoed with crunching noises as he sank his teeth into it and continued walking.

-)(-

A ceremony was held two days later for the death of Kid Flash. It was a small and quiet event, where many of the people would recount silly adventures and mishaps with the once enthusiastic and childish speedster.

Aqualad stood beside the hologram memorial, speaking in front of a seated procession that consisted mostly of the team and various leaguers. Artemis sat near the front, silent tears running down her face as she tried to keep her head high while Flash held her hand and sat proudly in memory of his nephew.

However, M'gann's attention was somewhere other than Kaldur as he spoke. Out of the corner of her eye, she stared at the lone ebony-haired teen sitting in the back with a blank look on his face, worry twisting in her stomach. Leaning over to Superboy seated beside her, she whispered, "We should get him to say something."

If Superboy knew who she was talking about, he didn't show it. He merely raised an eyebrow slightly and drew his lips into a thin line, thinking a little before replying,

"Why? He doesn't look like he wants to talk about it."

"That's the point!" she quietly insisted, "He can't just bottle it up like that."

Slowly sitting back in her own chair with eyes downcast, she clasped her hands tightly on her lap. With a mental tug for permission, she opened a mind link. M'gann was still hesitant to use her power so did this rather reluctantly, but she didn't want to further disturb the ceremony.

"Look, I know Wally was our friend too, but him and Nightwing. They were best friends, they shared such a strong bond, even people that couldn't read minds could tell. So losing someone like that..." She fidgeted with her hands trying to think things through. Closing her eyes, she continued in a much quieter mental voice than before,

"I just- He's been so quiet lately. I'm just really worried about him."

She opened her eyes as a larger hand enclosed hers'. Conner's face had softened slightly and was now giving her the tiniest of smiles as he squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"I think a lot of people are. He probably just needs some time." When she nodded, Conner let go of her hand and turned back to face the front again. "Soon enough, he'll be back to his old self, defiling the English language."

Her eyes widened a bit only to be quickly replaced with mirth as she let out a silent giggle. "You know Wally would have made a joke of some sort about you growing a sense of humour there."

Conner couldn't help but smile a bit sadly at that.

"I know."

-)(-

'Welcome to Mesa City'

At least he was somewhere in America still. If he remembered from geography correctly, this was the opposite end of the country, away from Gotham, Central City and Happy Habor. No big super heroes in town and the closest one he would have to watch out for were Green Arrow and Arsenal, maybe Red Arrow in Star City. This was almost perfect for the moment.

Before he had gotten into town, he had removed the top part of his costume, leaving him wearing a tight t-shirt underneath and the red spandex of the remaining part of the costume. At least it was less attention grabbing than bright yellow, though equally as odd.

So his first stop had been to the closest thrift store where he picked up an old hoodie, some jeans and a worn bag where he stored his suit. Disposing of it and having it accidentally discovered was too risky. The hoodie had also hidden his hair and face for the moment but he knew that wouldn't last long.

The second stop had been to a hair salon. The little trip had been a bit of a hit to his metaphorical wallet, but how different he looked with just that little changed said it was worth it. The last place had been a Halloween shop. It was off season at the moment so there was hardly anyone there, a quick in an out.

Walking into an empty public washroom in a nearby park, he locked the door behind him and placed his small bag that he had purchased earlier beside the sink.

Inside the crinkly plastic bag was a small set of containers that Wally grabbed and unscrewed the caps to. He dipped a finger in the first container and place the coloured contact in one eye and proceeded to do the same to the other. When he was finished, he screwed the caps back on placing it in his sweater pocket and the plastic bag in the trashcan.

The mirror told him that he was no longer Wally West, well at least he didn't look like it. Short chestnut hair and dark brown, almost black coloured eyes stared back at him. It was slightly disorienting but entirely necessary.

That moment, his stomach decided to make itself known with a growl. Just as necessary as getting some food in his stomach it seemed. It was around lunchtime now and he was starved!

Paul's Diner two blocks from the park seemed relatively small and humble enough. Right as the door opened, a whoosh of air flew past his face, the smell promising bacon and grilled chicken. In short glorious food! As fast at normal humans were supposed to walk, he bee lined for a stool at the counter and picked up a nearby menu.

About two minute had passed when a larger middle aged man in a white apron stopped in front of Wally. The slightly balding man was quite tall and had a customer winning smile. Wally went ahead and assumed this was Paul. After all, other than him, there was only one waitress and customers in the diner.

"What can I get for you son?" He pulled out a notepad and pen ready scrawl down the order.

"I'll have a chi-" Wally clamped his mouth shut before a chant of food orders could tumble out. His pockets were light to start off with and his spendings today made them even more so. "I'll just have a chicken sandwich and water."

A plate was in front of him in less than five minutes and Wally had inhaled it all in less than one and a half. Paul laughed at him saying something about having an endless pit for a stomach and a vacuum for a mouth. However his stomach growled again.

"You still hungry huh? How about you order something else. I'll try to whip it up faster than you can eat this time," he chortled.

The young man stared at the menu that had been closed and discarded to the side, but reaching into his pocket, he realized that after the previous meal he would only be left with a dollar twenty-five in quarters. Not much to work on there. Smiling sheepishly he shook his head, "No thank you, I-I wouldn't have enough to afford anything else anyways."

Paul expression didn't change though, "Grab some money from home? You can be my first teen regular you know!"

He didn't even need to act, he frowned and turned his head downwards at the thought of home and how he couldn't go back. Paul was waiting expectantly for an answer though. Might as well tell the truth. "Can't. Because I can't go home, not anymore."

This, made the older man frown. "Wow, sorry champ, I didn't mean to bring something bad up. Did… you get kicked out or something?"

"Yeah. Or something."

Neither of them spoke. Wally sat awkwardly and Paul looked to be thinking for a bit while idle chatter and clinking plates and utensils in the background filled the silence. Then a large warm hand came down with a mighty clap on Wally's shoulder.

"I know! If you can clean and wash dishes as fast as you ate that sandwich," Paul chuckled amusingly at Wally's reddening face, "I'll hire you to work here and I'll even give you a discount on the food. How's that sound champ?"

Wally stared up at the man with wide eyes. Sure there were a lot of nice people out there but- "Are you sure?!"

"Of course!" The man's eyes crinkled in amusement, "You seem like an honest kid, and I feel like you would need to food more than the money with the way you eat. Now, how about I fix you a hamburger and some fries on the house." Without even waiting for Wally to answer or most likely protest, Paul had headed back off to the kitchen.

His initial shock was replaced by a grin as he shook his head disbelievingly. He wasn't so sure if he had just accepted a job or had gotten manhandled into one.

Alone again, - the waitress was attending to the other customers - Wally dug through his backpack for the pile of scrap papers that he had brought. Their edges were frays and many of them faded from constant handling. They didn't look very special being different sizes and only having the odd scribble on them, by Wally handles them like delicate glass. These paper scraps were important after all. They were what started everything.