I see my mother in my face (but only when I travel)

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Barry Allen was now a college student. Since he was over eighteen, Joe West had no legal obligation to watch over him anymore. But he still encouraged Barry to come back during summer and winter breaks.

Barry was still good friends with Iris. They spoke on the phone often, while she was away at her own college on the other end of the state. The three of them still celebrated each Christmas and Thanksgiving together.

But Rudy alternated spending the holidays between them and Mary's parents. Truth be told, Barry didn't mind very much. He never really got along with Rudy. Which wasn't to say they disliked each other. They just... never really got along. Regardless, this year, Christmas dinner was being held at the elder West house.

"Merry Christmas!"

Rudy and Mary came through the door on a cold winter evening. Joe, Iris, and Barry rushed over to greet them. Smiles and hugs went all around. And special attention was given to the warmly-dressed little boy who held tightly onto his mother's hand.

Wally West recently turned five years old. Barry kneeled down to be eye-level with the wide-eyed redhead. The boy shifted closer to his mother.

"Well say hello, Wally," Mary told him. "You remember Uncle Barry."

When Barry was a little boy, he wondered why grown-ups always felt the need to comment on "how big he's getting." Now, as he looked at Wally, he probably understood. Barry only got a few chances to see him over the years. It didn't feel like that long ago since he was looking at a small toddler in a crib. But Wally had somehow become a kid in only a handful of appearances.

Just the same, Barry didn't say it. "Hey, Wally. How are you doing?"

Wally stared at him, then he nodded quickly and looked back to his mom.

Was Barry this shy when he was five? Was there a time when he clung so close to his mother?

It was more than ten years ago by now...

A tiny part of Barry - a part which would never be given form by being spoken out loud - hated the holidays. Every milestone throughout the year was just a reminder of what still wasn't there.

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Joe was preparing dinner in the kitchen, with a little help from Mary. Rudy and Iris were talking and catching up at the dining room table, with little Wally right by them. But Wally was getting bored listening to the grown-up talk and kept interrupting, until Iris kindly suggested, "Wally, why don't you go and talk with Uncle Barry for a while?" So he did.

Barry was sitting on the couch, writing another letter to his father. He wrote many letters in December. There was one his father would receive in time for Christmas, and another one describing what happened on the day itself.

"Wa'cha doin'?" a small voice said.

Barry looked away from his notepad and saw Wally staring up at him wide-eyed.

"Writing a letter," he answered plainly.

Wally climbed up onto the couch next to Barry. "Can I help?" he asked eagerly.

"Sorry, no." Barry put his pencil and notepad facedown on the other cushion. These letters were personal, and he felt nervous risking someone else seeing them, even if it was just a little kid who could barely read.

"Unca' Barry... Are you married to An' Iris?"

The question stunned Barry since it came out of nowhere.

"N-No. What? We're not married. No," he stuttered.

"Are you daddy's brother?" Wally asked.

Barry shook his head, wondering where this was going. "No."

"Are you mommy's brother?"

"No."

"Then why are you my unca'?" Wally asked innocently.

Barry probably should have seen that question coming, but he didn't.

It was like a needle jabbed into his chest. The awkwardness of his presence here was thrown in his face. But he couldn't be upset at this small child.

Barry searched for the words a child would understand. "When I was a little kid... I couldn't live with my mom and dad anymore. I didn't have anyplace else to go... But Grandpa Joe was really, really nice and he let me live with him, and with your dad, and with Aunt Iris. So... I'm not really your dad's brother, but I'm like his brother. And that's why I'm like your uncle."

"Why couldn' you live wi' your mom and dad?" Wally asked.

Barry froze again. He wondered why that had to be the part Wally focused on.

"Well..." He didn't know what to say. Would a kid this young even have a concept of death? Did he know what heaven was? Did he know what jail was?

He skipped his mother and moved to the part that was - comparatively - easier. "Do you know what jail is, Wally?"

The little boy nodded. "Granpa's a cop and that's where he puts the bad guys."

Barry tried not to wince. "My dad's not a bad guy... People just think he is, but he's not... He's in jail by mistake."

Wally said, "If you tell 'em your daddy's not a bad guy, they'll let him go." He spoke very seriously, like he was letting Barry know this for the first time.

"It's not that easy," he replied. "See, the bad guys - the real bad guys - they lie because they want to get out of jail too. Everybody says they're not bad, and the cops can't tell who's lying and who's not. So I have to prove my dad's not lying."

"How?"

"Well," Barry was gradually talking to the little boy with more ease, "I'm studying to be a 'forensic scientist.' You know what that is?"

Wally shook his head. "Uh-uh."

"It's kind of like a cop, but he doesn't catch the bad guys. He goes to the places the bad guys were and he looks for clues. I want to make sure that what happened to my dad doesn't happen again to anyone else's dad. And... hopefully... I'll be able to help my dad too."

"Do it soon."

He smiled. "As soon as I can."

"No, really!" Wally insisted. "Grown-ups say they'll do it soon but they never do. I wanna see him."

Barry stared at Wally. "...You want to see my dad?"

"Uh-huh. He's my granpa too," Wally said. "You're my unca' so he's my granpa. You know, my other granpa and granma live far away too. I want all my granpas and granmas together. I want everyone together. And you wanna see him too, huh?"

Barry tried to speak, but his throat was a little dry. "Y-Yeah... Me too... I want to see everyone together too..."

"We're a big family," Wally said decisively. This innocent little boy had accepted Barry completely... Trusted him unconditionally... Believed in his father just because he was there...

"Yeah, we are." Barry reached over and hugged his nephew.

"Thanks Wally."

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Author's notes: First draft posted on 2/5/2016. What do five-year-olds sound like anyway? I'm eager for feedback on how I'm doing with this story. Chapter title comes from the song "Half Jack" by The Dresden Dolls.