I wrote this chapter three separate times. THREE. I blame Hal and Alfred. Hopefully the length makes up for its less than timely appearance. Thanks to everyone who favorited and followed!

Warhawk'42: Ahh, your theories make me happy, but I'm not telling. Since KF is so young right now, his speed is like in the show. I hate him not getting the credit he deserves, however, so his speed abilities will increase with age and training. For the most part, season one events will be glossed over while remaining the same, but there's going to be an unknown amount of chapters dealing with the events between the seasons. Since I think five years is pretty unrealistic as well, the timing of things will probably be different. Friend, I am sorry to inform you that this is an (eventual) birdflash story, meaning Dick x Wally. Since it's eventual, though, Wally may or may not have a brief romance with Artemis. I'm sorry if this wasn't clear. Cookie?

FangirlingIsAnAddiction: I agree wholeheartedly with your username. Aw, thank you for your kind words! You're the reason I sucked it up and finished this chapter today. And if you love birdflash, you can leave me a prompt (or twenty) and I'll write you a oneshot.

WARNING: Hal is a potty mouth. (My computer is being weird, though, so I have to write them like this: bastar d. Sorry. If anyone knows how to fix this, please tell me.)


Koriand'r tried, really she did, to stay conscious long enough to spare her new friends from the troubled looking man dressed in red, but her mind was spinning and she was just so tired. In an attempt to spare herself more injury she stopped levitating, but the landing wasn't anywhere near as smooth as usual. The second the totality of her weight was forced onto her feet, she stumbled forward, barely missing Kid Flash, and pitched toward the ground. Her vison went black.

"What happened?"

It took a moment for her brain to translate what was being said. She was just too exhausted for the words to click into place like they usually did. The speaker was the red man. Kid Flash's… uncle? A good man, her instincts had told her, but confused. His voice was filled with worry, pinched with it really, and Koriand'r felt bad for making it that way. It reminded her of home, for some reason. But she couldn't remember. Everything was fading, and the voice of Robin trying to explain how they'd met was almost like a lullaby.

"…was from a planet called Tameran,"

Tameran. Home.

Seconds before she lost consciousness entirely, Koriand'r's heart twisted painfully. Memories flooded her exhausted mind, and the sort of mental block she'd constructed to keep her painful thoughts at bay crumbled.

She was terrified, homeless, an orphan, beyond sadness and mourning, and so very, very helpless. Never in her life had she felt this small, this insignificant. She wanted to forget, to physically push the memories away, but she couldn't.

Miserable, the last things she remembered before she succumbed to blissful blank blackness were two names. They were unfamiliar, but somehow carried the same sort of helpless suffering that Tameran stirred up in herself. She wondered vaguely who they were, this Rudy and Rick, and if they were okay, but was soon too far gone to care.

When she awoke eight days later, tied down with a man staring off into space next to her, she didn't remember either of them.


As the night progressed, Flash didn't know whether to be angry at his nephew or Robin. On one hand, Wally was older and not anywhere close to the realm of stupid, but his speedster DNA coupled with natural hyperactivity made for a tricky combination. Robin had more experience, Bat-training, and just overall better decision making skills, but he was two years younger.

Angry wasn't even the right word, he realized. He had already been nervous about letting the two kids run around Gotham, but Batman had assured him that he had surveillance monitoring everything. Flash had been a little surprised when Batman hadn't commented on the boys' movement out of the agreed patrol perimeter, but took it as a sign that Robin and Kid Flash had earned some sort of approval. No, he wasn't angry, he was apprehensive. Gotham was a calling card for trouble, and Wally was just waltzing around as if he were in Central City.

Both men had decided to observe their sidekick's reaction and subsequent handling of the crater situation from a nearby roof (aided by Batcams, or something), and Flash personally thought that everything was going as well as it could've up until his nephew had been kissed— kissed— by the alien. It had been three months since The Incident, but an alien inserting herself so intimately and abruptly into Wally's personal bubble nearly gave him heart failure.

For a millisecond, the girl had been raising a weapon and hurtling towards his nephew's chest.

"Flash,"

Batman's voice— harsh, gravelly, low, and full of reprimand— somehow snapped him out of whatever zone his brain had entered without permission and he took a deep breath. Batman, the paranoid bastar d, knew about what had happened, had known even before Flash had told the League. For all of his protests and standoffish nature, Batman was nearly a good a friend as Hal. In vastly different ways, of course.

Turning to thank him, Flash's brain processed three things in rapid succession.

First, there was a surprising amount of equipment that Bats was kneeling by. Flash hadn't thought the other hero content with just listening to the interaction happening below them, but whoa. Full body scans— the alien was only four foot?—internal readings ranging from brain scans to pulse rates and estimated white blood cell counts, a running lie detector, and several things he didn't know the use for. Where in god's name did Bruce keep all this stuff?

Second, the digital brain's posterior superior temporal gyrus (Wernicke's area, more specifically) was lit up like a Christmas tree. That part of the brain was essential for knowledge and processing of linguistics.

Third, the alien's voice. Speaking in English over the small cameras. English.

"I am so sorry! I did not realize that… mouth-to-mouth contact, what you call… kissing? I did not realize it was so intimate. I am sorry, my people can learn languages through mou— kissing, and I did not understand what was going on, please do not be mad,"

"She learned English by kissing my nephew?" Flash asked incredulously. Soon he'd find this hilarious, even making a note to tease Wally about it later, but right now it was just weird.

"We've seen stranger,"

"That's true,"

But still, a part of him wondered, how in the hell do things like this even happen? Barry often had to take a step back and come to terms with most of his friends either being an alien, a borderline crazy, or a multi-universe-space-cowboy-sheriff-cop-thing who wore a glowy ring. And, the hardest to comprehend of all, the fact that Iris West, a woman so far out of his league it was laughable, had yet to run screaming.

"I've gathered all the data I can. Go get them while I get the Batmobile. Do not engage. Results inconclusive. Protect Robin and Kid Flash,"

"You're not a robot, Bats. Just emotionally constipated,"

"How about this— make them think they're in major trouble,"

Which was strange, because the kids were in trouble. It seemed, however, that Batman approved of their actions at least a little. And okay. He could admit that faced with an explosion at eleven he would have checked it out, too.

"I'm gonna make them think you're after them," Because even if Flash had calmed down considerably, that didn't mean that he'd forgotten. Wally needed to learn to think for himself, and Robin deserved to squirm for giving in to peer pressure. Even if it was kinda adorable.

And Flash could've sworn the corners of the man's mouth curved at least a tiny bit upwards.


Mount Justice was cool. High tech enough to house Earth's Biggest Egos, with just enough comfortable places to crash in order to make it homey. Really, though, it was nice. Quiet, even. In fact, if one ignored the constant instances of shouting, alerts, alarms, some weird cross between the two, distant thuds of something taking a Super-pounding, and general chaos of several holier-than-thou superheroes, the mountain was similar to a spa getaway.

In other words, Hal wanted to get to fu cking space yesterday.

Bats' magic satellite thingy was taking too long. He was going to fling someone into the sun any day now. In fact, the only reason he hadn't was because he couldn't decide between Ollie and Diana, or as he called them, Prince Whipped and Princess Dick-Slicer.

Okay, he didn't really call them that. But still.

It doesn't make a lot of sense, his distaste for the mountain. Hal had always been difficult to entertain, to keep interested. He needed something to enthrall him, something he could focus on, something beyond what most people were capable of, and that probably had everything to do with his romantic failures. Excluding his womanizer tendencies, of course.

But here, he's essentially locked in a mountain with aliens, metas, and two normal men able to hold their own against the formers. His best friend could run across the word almost instantaneously, he was friendly with a telepath, man of steel, and a guy who lived underwater. Nothing about this situation should be less than amazing.

But he was just. So. Bored.

Missions were one thing; alien invasions, crazy murderers, metas, natural disasters, political catastrophes, all of that made the blood rush to his head, his heart pound, his very soul sing and hum with anticipation. He was able to live in the moment, and every one was possibly his last. He could save people or he could fail. So many things had the potential to go awry, but he consistently beat the odds. He felt unstoppable, and important, and the only thing that trumped those moments were space missions.

The times between those instances, however, bored him to the point of borderline poetry. While he was having an internal monologue.

So, with all that in mind, was he a terrible person for being relieved when Flash had sped frantically into Mount Justice with an unconscious orange child in his arms?

Yeah, probably.


Alfred had enough experience with his two charges to know when something was off. He'd been present for the aftermath nearly every one of their traumatic experiences, and knew each of their tells. Bruce, through no real fault of his own, had been a difficult child to connect to emotionally after his parents' deaths. Alfred had taken it upon himself to read as many books about children emotion as he could, the subjects ranging from self-destructive tendencies to lying to mental disorders to what made them happy.

It should be said that Alfred Pennyworth never planned to raise a child.

It was due to his semi-obsessive readings (he never could understand how to help Bruce, and it ate at him every time he put on the cowl) that he immediately noticed Wallace West was in shock. The child was too pale and breathing far too quickly. Looking at Batman, now hunched over the keyboard of his overly large computer, he wondered not for the first time how blind such an observant man could be.

"What happened?" he asked, walking quickly to the two children. Master Dick, who'd previously only looked a little pale, suddenly morphed into a full-fledged panic attack. Alfred had been witness to many during his first month at the manor.

"They met an alien," Batman said shortly, without looking up.

"No, Master Batman, what happened?"

Something in his tone alerted the man that something was wrong. He turned around, frowning, only to freeze when he took in the sight of his ward and his ward's best friend shaking and looking emptily in front of them, one barely breathing and the other hyperventilating.

Alfred reached the boys just as Batman unfroze and began typing furiously, barking, "Calm them down,"

He crouched and made the decision to help Master Dick, first.

"Child, please look at me," Alfred said, cupping his cheeks. "Whatever you're seeing is not real. Please, you need to breathe,"

"M' sorry," a tiny voice whispered, and Alfred looked at Wallace in surprise. "Sorry,"

"Masters Robin and Wallace, you need to breathe," and this time, it was a command. Dick obeyed, heaving a giant breath and looking at him with what he could imagine were fear-filled eyes behind the mask.

Alfred wanted nothing more than to scoop his tiny acrobat into his arms and whisper soothing words in his ear, but that was neither his place nor this the opportune time. The speedster, if possible, had begun breathing even faster, and Alfred didn't think that he was the best person suited for this task. As if to reinforce that theory, the redhead said something so incredibly fast that Alfred nearly missed the fact that he'd said anything at all. Master Dick, however, looked stricken.

"Master Robin, if I may," he said softly, not wanting to upset his charge any more. "Master Wallace is naturally fond of physical contact and affection. While you respond with calming words, the same is not true for him,"

Not that he'd been exactly calm in his speech, but the thought was there.

When Master Dick wrapped his arms around his friend and buried his face against the yellow fabric, Alfred felt something warm curl around his chest. Master Bruce would never have done something like that, and that alone proved that this child had not been lost to his elder charge's brooding ways.

He watched, a warm smile on his face, as both boys regained their color and even breathing. They remained pressed together, though they finally sat down and allowed Alfred to wrap a blanket around their shoulders, until Batman stormed to the zeta tube and Flash took his place a few moments later.


Batman had stormed into the medical bay, a dark air about him as though he'd decided the girl was guilty of some terrible crime. He never looked anywhere in the realm of happy, but at the moment he looked equal parts furious and pissed off. And with Batman, there was a difference. Furious meant righteous fury (or something) and pissed off meant that someone was going to go down with excess force. And this was aimed towards an injured kid.

"She needs to be locked up,"

It irritated Hal more than anything. Batman hadn't been there for J'onn's explanation. This young child had witnessed horrible things, enough that not even the Martian could discern too many details. Her instinct had been to get rid of the emotion and somehow she'd managed to drudge up horrible memories in everyone she came in direct contact with, Barry included. And yet, the speedster was looking at Batman in horror.

"You can't lock up a child,"

"She's a threat,"

"She was scared. She didn't mean to. Once she wakes up-"

"Once she wakes up, who knows what she could do?" Batman interrupted. Hal didn't know how someone who'd essentially become the human incarnation of vengeance due to two deaths could fault a small child for reacting poorly to millions, but to each his own. Douche.

"She did not mean to do what she did," J'onn reiterated, and Hal could only imagine what kind of dangerous waves were radiating off of Batman. It was common knowledge that the bat went batty whenever Robin was threatened, but damn. Hal had never seen J'onn look so concerned.

"That's not the point,"

"Batman, you can hardly hold the girl responsible for—"

"Martian Manhunter, she put both my sidekick and the Flash's in danger, she is accountable for her actions regardless of the circumstances,"

"Now now, Bats, cut the girl some slack. If what J'onn saw was any indication, she was acting on pure instinct," Hal cut in. It hadn't sounded like the girl had even known she was capable of doing what she had. There was no reason to blame her for that.

"This doesn't involve you, Lantern,"

"Batman, she really didn't mean any harm," Flash, the idiot, said, trying to appeal to some sense of human compassion Hal was pretty sure didn't exist in the man.

"This involves your nephew, and you're just going to let an alien girl run rampant without caution simply because she was scared?"

Hal clenched his fist. Barry had explained how the girl, Kor-something-or-other, had been nothing but reasonable and even protective towards Robin and Kid Flash. He'd also explained how he'd suddenly flashbacked to the day he came home and found his mother's body. When Batman had used the tubes to yell at everyone for not being careful enough, it had taken Superman to get him to spill the beans.

Somehow, the girl had taken everyone's worst experiences and brought them to the forefront of their minds. Barry hadn't had a panic attack, but he had been upset. He'd been directly affected and held no grudge against the girl. Robin and Kid Flash, if asked, probably wouldn't either.

"Seems reasonable to me," Hal spat, blood boiling. "You're the one who's being a—"

"Hal,"

"What? It's true!"

"Be all this as it may, something has to be done to make sure that Robin and Kid Flash's minds haven't been permanently affected," Batman's voice was cold, calculating. It set his teeth on edge.

"The remnants of the girl's energy should be gone in a few hours, if not already,"

"Thank you, J'onn. And you too, Hal,"

"It was no trouble,"

And it really wasn't. All he'd done is ask his ring about the planet Tameran, and found out that no one in the Green Lantern Core had heard of it. That meant that Tameran was too far away from anything to be catalogued. It was strange, and a little frightening, that a little girl had managed to travel so far while an entire organization specializing in intergalactic travel couldn't.

"Yeah, I was happy to help you. And the kids. Wanna know why you're not on the list, Bats?"

"Not particularly,"

"Hal, please…"

"Fine. C'mon J'onn, they wanna have super-secret sidekick talk,"

It was complet bullshi t. Batman never wanted to talk to anyone, and the two mentors had nothing to say to each other at this point. Barry gave him a look, and Hal knew that he was caught. Barry should just be grateful that he was bailing, though, because otherwise Batman would have been punched. And then Barry wouldn't have a best friend, because Batman would kill him. Painfully.

He decided that he'd stay near the girl. He wanted to collect data for the Core, but also be there in case Batman decided to go insane in the dead of night, which wasn't too far out of the realm of possibility if Hal was being honest. The guy had serious issues.

Besides, it wasn't like anyone was waiting for him anyway.


That's the end of chapter three! I'm sorry if it seems a bit choppy. Things will be a lot less so once we get out of the exposition. Good news- I've finally got an actual plan for this story instead of just a rough outline.

Like I said last time, feel free to send me prompts! I didn't get any last time. :( And having something else to work on actually helps me work faster, believe it or not. Until next time, which hopefully comes sooner than this one did. Sorry about that.