In D a r k n e s s dwells
Chapter summary: "The monster's here," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Warning: 'graphic' description of self-mutilation and attempted suicide, some swearing. Should the rating be upped to M?
Special Thanks: to xRae_Asakurax for beta'ing! And giving me the daisy chain idea. Thank you! And to Kyer, DoctorStalker and Shinju90 for reviewing. I really appreciate that. To everyone who alerted this story or faved it: I'm really glad you do, but please leave a tiny comment too? Even just a few words would suffice, really. Thanks everyone!
Chapter Two: Slowly dawn arrives
A red blur sped through the streets of Central City. A woman carrying groceries found herself blushing as her skirt was swept up by a sudden dash of wind. Some children skateboarding on the streets almost had to throw themselves off the boards to avoid getting hit by a red flash. A young man in a suit brushed a strand of hair back as it escaped from the rest, combed back with gel.
The eyes of everyone of the city were directed on the red blur, until he disappeared out of sight and the same question sprang into everyone's mind.
What's wrong with the Flash?
. . .
The world was spinning faster than usual. He raced through the city for the umpteenth time, checking the same streets and alleys for the umpteenth time. He hadn't stopped running since the phone call.
She wasn't gone. She wasn't.
She was somewhere. Somewhere in this city, a lonely girl was crying all by herself. He would find her. He wouldn't stop running until he found her. He knocked on every door, checked every nook and cranny around the place before the door was opened. He ignored grumpy calls, but repeated the same question over and over again.
"Sir, have you seen this girl?"
"Ma'am, do you recognise this girl?"
Her name is Molly and she is ten-years old. She has the most beautiful brown eyes you will ever see and wore her brown hair down when she went missing. She wore an orange skirt and a red Hello Kitty-top. She also has a Hello Kitty necklace.
It was hot. So hot he thought he would forget how to breathe. The air burned in his lungs and his stomach was protesting, begging for food. His legs were starting to get sore; he was pushing himself even beyond his limit. He needed to stop, stop running and slow down. Breathe. Eat. Think.
Please. If you find her, please, please contact the Central City Orphanage.
In seconds, the familiar streets of his city sped by. He had reduced the speed of the world around him to slow-motion, stop-motion. He thought he recognised Molly so many times he forgot to count. Then he would reach out his hand, start calling her name, but even before a single second had passed, he knew it wasn't her.
Her hair was too long. Her eyes weren't the same. She walked differently. She had a mummy. She wasn't as beautiful. She wasn't Molly.
He knocked on Nessa's door before he even realised it. He didn't check her house, she was Nessa after all. The door opened quickly. She was in a baby blue summer dress, frilly at the ends. She widened her eyes as she saw a man clad in a red costume on her doorway.
"Hello," she said insecurely. "You're… the Flash, right?"
Wally took a deep breath of oxygen that burned holes through his lungs.
"Yes, I am," he answered quickly. He held up the photograph. "She's gone missing."
Nessa gasped and bit her lip, before she held her hand before her mouth. She shook her head.
"Molly? No, no way," she replied.
"Look, I've been searching the city for hours now and I haven't found her. If she comes to you, please contact the orphanage, okay? She might come here because she feels safe."
"Okay," she answered firmly. "Of course. Are there any places you haven't covered so I can go looking for her?" She shook her head again. "A sweet girl like her shouldn't be all alone."
Wally gave her a small smile, the first one in half a day. It was good to know at least someone cared. It enraged him to know that if it wasn't an orphan, half the city would be looking for the missing girl now.
"I've checked everything, but a double-double-double-double-check can't hurt," he replied. "Thank you for your time." He added politely.
Nessa smiled and closed the door as the red blur took off again.
. . .
He checked the play grounds. He checked the toy stores. He checked the train station. He checked the forests. He checked the schools. He checked the bus stops, every single of them. He checked her old house. He checked the parks. He checked the dark, stinking alleys. He checked the small streets. He checked the big streets. He checked the candy stores. He checked every single place one could get ice cream.
He checked and looked and searched and ran and the world spun, spun way too fast and the world was slow and where the hell was Molly?
With every second ticking away, an ice-cold feeling of fear wrapped itself around his inside, squeezing tighter until he was both burning and freezing inside. He gasped for air that didn't want to come. He was exhausted, he wanted to eat, but he knew he wouldn't get anything to stay inside.
Somewhere in this city, burning up under the sun, a girl was all alone. A girl who was no longer anyone's responsibility.
In the alley he checked first the night before, he got hit by a sudden dizzy spell, causing him to trip over his own feet. His velocity caused him to slide over the ground and he smashed against the wall. His wrist made a painfully loud smack-noise and he winced as he felt pain flash through his body. He stayed like that for a while, head down in the dirt, the stench of rubbish all around as he tried to make the world stop spinning.
He got up then, achingly slowly and got ready to run again as a voice broke through his comm. link.
"Flash, are you alright?"
"Yeah, sure, why?" He took a few insecure steps. He was up again. He was up. He was walking. He would running again soon. The world spun. The world spun too fast. It was okay, he was up again. He was up again.
"You were expected at a briefing." Slight pause. "You're never late."
"Yeah, well, I'm sort of busy right now," he tried to keep the tiredness and hurt out of his voice.
"Briefings are important, Wally," J'onn answered through the comm. link, without a doubt thinking Wally was making another excuse not to come.
"Look! I don't care for Diana nagging about how she solved all the fucking problems on some fucking far away galaxy, when there is enough that should be fixed down on Earth!"
Pause. "I do suppose you could skip a meeting once in a while."
The connection broke off before Wally could open his mouth to apologise. He swallowed back frustration and started another full-check through Central City.
. . .
"Where's Wally?" Shayera asked as J'onn walked into the meeting room and closed the door behind him.
"He's not coming," the Martian replied, "he was busy." He spoke the last word as if he hardly believed it himself.
"Tied-up-to-a-boomerang-busy or meetings-are-boring-busy?" John interjected, a slight knowing smile on his face.
J'onn couldn't find the humour in it. Even though he and Wally were miles apart, the speedster radiated feelings with an intensity he had yet to find in another human being. It unnerved him, the amount of guilt he could feel now, the rage and the sorrow.
"Neither, I think," he replied truthfully.
Shayera raised an eyebrow and was about to ask what he meant by that, but Diana cleared her throat.
"Not that I don't love to listen about us speculating about what's up with Wally, but maybe we should get the meeting started? We'll talk to him later."
J'onn nodded. "My apologies."
Diana smiled warmly and started the briefing.
. . .
"So. What was wrong with Wally?" Shayera asked him as soon as the meeting had ended.
J'onn kept his face at the screen.
"I don't know. He seemed rather upset," he told her truthfully. After all, she and Wally were best friends, family almost. It couldn't hurt to tell her.
She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest, the mace dangling from her wrist. She narrowed her green eyes. "How upset?"
"Really upset."
Shayera looked thoughtful for a moment, then uncrossed her arms.
"That's it!" she said, more to herself than to him. As if she remembered he was still there, she looked at him and explained: "yesterday, during monitor duty, he got a phone-call and rushed off like apocalypse was nearing. Something's wrong, J'onn, and I'm about to find out what."
She stalked off to the transport bay and J'onn set the coordinates to Central City. In a flash of eerie blue light she was gone. He hoped she would fix whatever was wrong.
. . .
She flew over Wally's home town as if she had never seen it before. She scanned the streets for a sign of him. Only seconds later she spotted him as a red blur, running in a slightly less than straight line. Quickly, she calculated where he would be next and descended.
He ran into her with a velocity that smashed the air out of her lungs. She was hurled across the streets, only avoiding crashing into a window of a little café by a hair's length. She planted her feet firmly in the ground, subconsciously sinking her nails in Wally's arms, her grip so tight he couldn't move another inch.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" she screamed as she caught her breath again. He looked at her, his eyes half-lidded and tear-rimmed. His chest heaved up and down quickly, fast enough to get her worried and he leaned on her as if she was the last straw of survival. The furious look disappeared.
He pulled himself away from her grip, staggered a few steps backward and then fell. A young man walking by caught him and Shayera smiled at him. Sometimes she forgot how much everyone in this city cared about him. As Wally, as Flash, he was loved, always, everywhere.
(Sometimes she wondered what it was like.)
"Are you okay?" the man asked, helping him regain his balance. People were gathering around him, worried, hushed voiced all around. Shayera felt her claustrophobia creep up. Wally brought a hand to his head and smiled at the man.
"Sure, sure! Just lost my balance there," he said cheerfully. "Thank you very much."
(She almost bought it. Almost.)
"No problem, Flash," the man answered back, the admiration clearly audible.
Wally smiled to everyone, telling them he was alright and slowly the group of people dispatched again. When no one was really paying attention to them anymore, Shayera grabbed his arm and pulled him into the nearest diner.
"Shaaaay!" he whined, "what are you doing?"
"Sit," she commanded, pushing him down on a chair. She sat down opposite of him and all but smashed the menu in his face. "Eat."
"I'm not hungry," he protested.
"Yes, you are!" she fired back, she leaned closer and hissed through clenched teeth: "they may buy this whole 'I lost my balance' thing, but I'm not like them, I won't buy it."
He narrowed his eyes and for a second Shayera was convinced he would snap at her, but then he changed his mood just as suddenly and gave her a childish grin. "Well, as long as you're paying."
(She refused to acknowledge how exhausted he sounded.)
She gave him a weak smile back, still furious at being left in the dark about whatever it was that was making him do this and replied: "You're not going to make a girl pay, are you?"
"Well, actually…" he trailed off meaningfully.
"Fine," she gave in. "Go ahead and be a rude asshole."
He stuck his tongue out and she did the same in response. A little later a young girl came to ask them what they wanted to order, flustered at the appearance of both Flash and former-Hawkgirl in the little diner. Wally ordered half the menu and she ordered some water, just to drink something. When the girl left again, Shayera tried to calm herself and leaned closer.
"So," she started firmly, "this is the part where you tell me what is wrong with you."
He smiled at her, leaning back in his chair, a look in his eyes as if he wanted to sleep right on the spot. "Nothing."
She narrowed her eyes. She wasn't good at this and he knew that. She swallowed back her frustration.
"Don't lie to me," she almost-hissed.
"I'm not lying," he replied.
"You almost fainted on the pavement," she stated.
"Nah, just lost my balance. I do that sometimes," he grinned. "Remember that one time –"
"Don't," she interjected. "Don't change the subject."
Wally squirmed in his seat. He looked around him as if he was looking for a way to escape, like a deer in the spotlight. His eyes went through twenty different emotions, but he didn't say a word. He settled on shrugging and looking right past her as he said: "I don't want to talk about it."
Shayera held her response until the girl had placed down her water and the first few plates for Wally to eat, glancing between them quickly and backing off just as fast. It was only a minute or so, but the time seemed to calm her and she thought it was time for a different approach.
(Sometimes she wondered why he made her try so hard.)
"Is it about the phone call?" she said, willing her voice to sound soft and compassionate. "Did something happen yesterday?"
He stuffed his mouth and for the first time in his entire life he seemed to remember the rule of not talking with his mouth full. Shayera wanted to snap at him again, but she took a few deep breaths, forcing herself to wait patiently. She scanned the room. The young woman who was serving them was busy in the kitchen, she could see her walk past the little window in the wall separating the kitchen and the dining room from time to time. At the bar stood a middle-aged man, doing dishes.
"Wally," she said his name softly, checking if no one could hear them talking, and continued louder: "you know you can tell me."
He crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. "Don't treat me as a child."
"Then don't act like one!"
"Am not!"
"Yes, you are! Why won't just tell me? I'm just trying to help, you know! You're not alright. Something happened and I want to know what."
"She's gone, okay? She's gone and I have no idea where she is and that's all my fault and I should've been there, I should've been there, I should have saved her! I should have been there, but I wasn't. No, no, I was looking at the earth in a stupid metal cage instead of being there and protecting her! And now she's gone and I can't find her, I can't find her and she's probably dead somewhere and that's all my fault."
He covered his face with his hands and his shoulders shook, but she knew he wasn't crying. Yet. The bartended looked over at them and seemed shell-shocked for a few moments at seeing their city's hero hanging over the table like wreck, then politely diverted his gaze.
Shayera took a few moments to take all of that in. That was what the phone call had been about.
"Maybe she just ran off, Wally, don't assume the worst," she almost winced at how hollow that sounded.
"She's ten-years old, Shay," Wally looked back, eerily calm now, like all the life had slipped from him in the last outburst. "How far can she go? I checked the whole city at least a thousand times. She's nowhere."
She didn't know what to say to make it better, so she just patted him on the shoulder. He gave her a weak smile. A few more plates were set on the table.
"And the police?" she asked softly.
(It felt so unnatural to look at Wally when he wasn't smiling.)
"They're not doing anything," he told her indignantly, "they just write it off as normal for those kids. But kids don't just vanish."
She shook her head. He inhaled some more food, then looked back at her. "I'm sorry I snapped at you like that."
She couldn't help but laugh slightly. She shook her head. "That's okay."
"I just…" he looked down at his now empty plate. "I should have been there, Shay."
"Don't do that to yourself."
(Self-pity will kill you. Take it from someone who knows. She wanted to say, but she held her tongue.)
"It's true! She isn't the first kid to just vanish. They're in danger and I'm not doing anything about it! And just because I have to stare at some stupid screens!"
She nodded firmly. "Okay. That settles it then. From now on, I'm covering all your monitor duties until you found out what's happening."
He looked up at her so gratefully she couldn't help but smile.
"Seriously… You'd do that for me?"
"Of course," she mock-punched him in the shoulder. "I have to take care of my clumsy little brother, right?"
He laughed and it sounded real this time. It wasn't long before she was laughing too.
. . .
He pierced the stem of a daisy with his fingernail, already covered in green. Laying on his stomach in long grass, he carefully plucked another one, only momentarily glancing away from his book he was reading, without missing a single beat.
"And so, the little fairy, Rosebud, decided to go down to the lake and organise a birthday party for her best friend, Poppyseed."
He slid the daisy through the little hole he just created and pierced another little hole through the stem, all the while telling the story about Rosebud and her best friend Poppyseed. On his back sat Allison, from time to time correcting mistakes Wally put in deliberately. She could read like the best and loved stories, especially fairy tales. Around him most of the younger girls were sitting, absently plucking with the grass or intently listening. He made them answer questions about the text, or asked them what they would do for the birthday of their best friends.
(How he loved how seriously they took it all, how deeply they cared about everything.)
The younger boys were playing soccer, as the older ones were having a basketball match.
Lynn was braiding his hair and he let her, as he continued making daisy chains for each of the girls. When he finished the story, the girls applauded him.
One of them, Hillary, a short brown haired girl with thick black-rimmed glasses on her nose, shyly asked: "Do you think I can be fairy too, Wally?"
"Well," Wally started, dragging out the word, just to fill them with anticipation. He frowned then, put on a thoughtful expression and muttered to himself: "nah, I can't tell them…"
"Can't tell us what?" Hillary insisted, shuffling closer. The other girls followed, Anna and Lynn echoing the question. As always, Allison didn't react at all, simply observed what was happening.
Wally pretended to be embarrassed about blurting out a secret.
"Please tell us!" Hillary begged.
"Well," he signed for them to get closer, which they did. He dropped his voice to a whisper, as he said: "The Flash told me a secret spell that makes you a fairy…" he trailed of for the dramatic effect.
Allison was the first to break the suspenseful silence, in a voice full of devotion only children held.
"I want to," she stated, firmly and serious.
"Are you sure?" he answered, with the same seriousness, "because, once you become a fairy, you'll always be a fairy, you know."
Allison nodded. He knew she was only doing this because she wanted to show the rest it was 'possible'. No one ever wanted to go first, so she took the burden on her shoulders. He couldn't help but feel proud of her. He knew that when she would grow up, she would be one of the girls who kept returning to the orphanage, even after building up her own life. He couldn't be accused of picking favourites, he made (almost obsessively) sure he never did, but he had a special place for her in his heart.
"Okay," she said simply.
"Okay. Come and stand before me," he said solemnly. The other kids watched her with admiration. Despite the fact she never talked to them, she was admired by everyone. She had this special look in her green eyes, thoughtful and wise, a look decennia ahead of her age. She was mostly by herself, but that only seemed to enforce the mystery around her. Everyone knew she was brave and when it came down to it: pure-hearted.
(Wally sometimes found himself wishing his own daughter, one day, would be like her. If only a little.)
Allison got off his back and he got up, dusting off his clothes quickly (slowly). He picked up one of the daisy chains and fished an empty perfume bottle out of his pocket, one he had filled with water for the occasion.
"Repeat after me," he commanded and she nodded once, firmly. "I, Allison Lockhart, hereby solemnly swear…"
"I, Allison Lockhart, hereby solemnly swear," she repeated with perfect pronunciation.
"To fulfil my fairy-duties to the best of my abilities."
The other kids stared in admiration. "To fulfil my fairy-duties to the best of abilities."
"Such as: guarding nature and its inhabitants, saving and caring for my fellow-fairies, humans and aliens alike."
She repeated smiling.
"And to never lose sight of beauty."
She repeated. He sprinkled a few drops of water over her. "Now, you must choose a fairy-name."
"Alalia," she decided.
"Alalia, I hereby declare you a fairy," he stated as he hung the daisy chain around her neck. The other kids stayed silent for a little while and Allison sat back, just slightly separated from the group. It wasn't long before they all wanted to be fairies and Wally spent the rest of the day 'making' them into ones and watching bright smiles. He even got Rachel, despite her worry about Molly to smile several times.
(He hoped he didn't have to tell her she lost someone she loved once more.)
. . .
When the dark started to set in, Vanessa opened the door to the orphanage, only to find all the girls with daisy chains hanging from their necks, even when wearing their sleeping clothes already. She spotted Wally and gave him a quick wave.
He walked towards her, leaving the kids to draw or something else. Allison followed him with her eyes, as if to make sure he wasn't leaving her, then directed her attention back to her drawing.
"Daisy chains," she said as he stood next to her.
He laughed and shrugged. "I made them into fairies today."
"Awww, how cute," she mocked him.
"You're just jealous you're not a fairy," he fired back.
"Of course I am," she brushed a strand of hair out of her face. Her face turned serious. "Have you heard anything about Molly yet?"
He shook his head. "No. It's been a whole week now."
She hugged him. "We can't lose hope, Wally."
He nodded as if he understood.
They talked until the owner of the orphanage, a middle-aged woman called Kate, told the kids it was bedtime. Wally and Nessa helped them get into bed. At Lynn's bed Wally lingered.
"I'm going to stay tonight, okay? So you don't have to be scared of the monster."
"Do you want to sleep in my bed?" She smiled, the fear prominent in her huge, blue eyes.
He smiled back. "You know what? That would be a great idea."
The bed was small, but he managed. Lynn lay on top of his chest, but she was such a slim girl he barely felt it. He had had building fall down on that chest and been able to breathe, a small girl wouldn't make a difference. He stared at the ceiling through the semi-darkness (there was always a light on, since most children were still afraid of the dark.) He smoothed Lynn's hair absently and she snuggled closer to him. He listened to cars screeching by and the occasional snoring from the children. Inwardly, he made a note to thank Shayera again for covering his monitor duty. Outside, the wind howled and he could smell the moist air that predicted a summer storm.
He looked around for monsters.
. . .
A little after midnight, Lynn shot up and looked around wildly. She was sobbing and shaking. He pushed himself up on his elbows and caressed her hair. She wrapped her tender arms around him, shaking still.
"The monster's here," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"That's okay, Lynn, I'll protect you," he promised. "Don't you worry."
She nodded and he held her close until she calmed down. She pouted, but she wasn't crying anymore.
"I need to pee," she told him.
He laughed softly. "Okay. If you see a monster, just shout for me okay? I'll protect you." He flexed a muscle to strengthen that statement and she giggled. He watched her close the door behind her and looked around to see if anyone had woken up. Outside, the rain broke through the clouds and pounded against the windows with aggressive force. Some of the children shuffled in their sleep, but didn't wake.
Wally waited in the dark, staring at the lightening outside. When Lynn wasn't back after what felt like an eternity, he got up and walked outside. Softly, he closed the door behind him.
"Lynn?" he called. He looked at the clock in the hallway. Half past midnight. He shivered, perhaps against the cold, perhaps against something much, much worse.
"Lynn?" he called again, feeling his heartbeat skyrocket at the lack of response. It took him a few long strides and he smashed open the door to the girl's bathroom, only to find it empty.
His heart trashed against his ribcage wildly, his lungs suddenly begging for air that was never enough. "Lynn?" he called again, his voice shaking along with his hands.
A whimper.
He smashed the door open to the grand hall. The lightening cracked outside, bathing the room in an eerie, bright light.
Wally smashed his hand for his mouth so he wouldn't scream in horror.
. . .
Shayera leaned back in her chair and drummed a song with her fingers, careful not to push any buttons on accident.
"Are you alright?" a low, painfully familiar voice next to her asked. "You look troubled."
"I'm just a little worried about Wally," she answered, giving John a small smile. He nodded in response, glancing between her and the screens, frowning.
"What happened?"
Shayera shot him a look. He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "I've been really busy, and that guy can be stubborn like hell when admitting things aren't all sunshine and rainbows."
She smiled and frowned almost simultaneously as she remembered how keen he had been on denying the fact something was wrong. "Kids have been disappearing from the orphanage."
"And he blames himself," John added.
. . .
Blood dripped to the ground, staining her white sleeping dress. Staining the floor, staining the scissors next to her.
Her mouth was open in agony, but only blood spilled out, her voice some noise in the back of her throat. Her wrists were turned up, a tear in the flesh. She had stopped shaking. She just stared at him, lifelessly.
He saw the useless remains of a tongue in her mouth, the rest of the muscle laying on her lap, between her sliced wrists.
His heart lay completely motionless in his chest.
. . .
"He cares too much," she said, keeping her gaze locked on the screens, not even blinking. He loved all those children as if they were his own, she knew.
"He does," John confirmed. He looked at her, she could see it from the corner of her eye, but she didn't dare to look back into his glowing green eyes. She hadn't for so long now. "But hey, he bounces back fast."
"Yeah." But she could still see the pain in his eyes, fresh like newly sliced cuts filled with salt and she wasn't so sure.
. . .
He fished his Flash ring out of his pocket and put on his costume as he ran to the EHBO kit in the storage room. In super-speed he applied her bandages, making sounds that were meant to comfort her, but made him shiver instead. He picked her up and a nanosecond later he was at Kate's room, pounding on the door more than he was knocking. She opened the door and screamed as well.
"What happened?"
"I don't know," he answered, words like poison he was swallowing willingly. "I've got to take her to the hospital. You make sure no one gets in or out this place until the police are here, okay?"
She nodded, grabbing her cell phone. He could hear her dial the number as she went to check on the other kids. He could hear them crying now, woken up by the sudden hysteria. He raced off with Lynn in his arms, direction hospital, a trip that never seemed to take so long.
He gave her into the arms of a professional-looking nurse, as she paged the doctors. Seconds later they were rushing her to the surgery rooms. The same nurse held him back.
"I'm sorry, Flash, you can't come in."
He nodded and stepped back, feeling dizzy, angry, exhausted and just plain devastated at the same time. He covered his head with his hands, only to find them sticky with blood. Her blood. He staggered towards the restroom and threw up in the sink, coughing wildly. He closed his eyes, but he could still picture her, covered in blood, screaming with a voice that no longer could form any words.
The blood on his hands didn't seem to come off.
. . .
"You're not even trying," Diana said in frustration as she made a back-flip to avoid getting Bruce's boot in her face.
He ignored her, instead launching another series of punches and kicks at her. She dodged them all and the grabbed his hand, hurling him (almost softly) through the room. He got up again and waited for her to attack, as he tonelessly stated: "It's just a spar."
She couldn't tell exactly why, but the words and the voice enraged her. She aimed for his face, but he ducked under her wrist and brought he palm up, hitting her chin. Momentarily caught off guard, but not at all fazed by the attack, Diana kneed him in the stomach.
He let go of her wrist, taking a few unbalanced steps backwards.
"You used to try your hardest even during 'just a spar'," she replied.
"People change," he said and it sounded stupid because if there was one person on the world who didn't care for second chances, it was him.
She leapt forward, grabbing his wrist. In a fluid motion she was behind him, twisting his arm towards his back.
"Looks to me you just lost your spark," she said and she hoped he would elbow her to deny it. About all the qualities she had found attractive in him, his passion and determination stood out. The person she was holding in a death grip now was someone she hardly recognised.
It terrified her when he did nothing to get away from her. His eyes were, instead, looking straight ahead and curiously she followed the direction.
She had never seen Wally looking as broken as he did right then, leaning in the doorway.
"Oh hi there, Wally," she feigned ignorance, reading Wally's look. He gave her small smile back, as in reflex. She added: "I was just leaving."
She let go of Bruce, who took his now sore wrist in his other hand and turned his hands a few time to restart the circulation. She walked past him and patted him in the eye when she left.
Bruce raised an eyebrow, letting go of his own wrist. He noticed the redhead had dark circles underneath his eyes, as if he hadn't slept at all the night before. His hands were slightly shaking, he kept them balled to fists. The clicking of Diana's heels down the hall subside and Wally finally spoke, his voice sounding hoarse.
"I need your help, Bruce. Please."
. . .
Omigosh cliffhanger!
I don't believe I have ever posted a second chapter so quickly. And that when I rewrote it like three times (this is the third version.) So yes, we're turning to the darker side! Yay?
I don't really have too much to say about this, I think.
I enjoy writing about a worried Shayera and an angsty Wally. And Bruce finally got some story time.
Please review. any questions will be answered and suggestions or comments are highly appreciated.
- Jazyrha