OKAY! I updated. Great, huh? I know the chapters are super-short lately, and that's just because I never have time to write, but I really wanna wrap up this story, so sorry if anything is too short. This is also just a little chapter to get set up for some other stuff I have planned for poor Wally. Grins devilishly

More long updates and short chapters in the future. Don't forget about me!

R&R

Cry Baby Cry

Bruce rushed forward, leaving the second fastest man alive (currently the fastest, if you also exclude his younger version) in his dust.

"Bruce! Is that-" Batman was already on the doorstep, heart beating fast, his wounded leg stinging, reminding him against his will that he was only human. He pounded on the door.

"Who is it?" A rough voice slurred. As a response, Bruce pounded again. Clark arrived by his side, looking anxious.

"We should have stayed," The man of steel muttered, his face pale with fear. The door was swung open, and Bruce was struck with the resemblance. Although the man before him had brown hair, he looked a lot like the pictures Bruce had seen of Wally (when he was older). However, unlike his son, this man had no smile- no kindness in his eyes. His mouth was in a tight frown. His skin was tanned, with wrinkles cutting into the smooth skin. Even nearly a foot away, Bruce could smell the alcohol radiating off of this man.

"What'ch'you want!?" He demanded drunkenly. He glanced back in the house, then turned back to the two men on his doorstep. "I'm busy."

"Mr. West?" Clark glanced at him sharply. Bruce remembered that Wally had never actually said his last name, and that Clark was probably confused as hell. A ghost of a smirk would have breezed onto his lips, had it not been for the worries pounding in his brain. The man rolled his eyes.

"Yea. What do you guys want?" He repeated, leaning against the door frame.

"We-..." Clark fumbled with what to say.

"We wanted to see your son." Bruce replied evenly.

"What'd he do?" The man asked, anger seeping into his words. "I know he's an annoying little fucker, but I didn't think he was messing around that bad."

"No." Bruce replied, his fists clenched. "He's not in trouble. That's not it. At all."

"Then why do you want to see him?" The man asked coldly, a smirk on his lips.

"We wanted to talk to him." The man's face hardened.

"I don't care what he told you people. Me and my son are close- I think you should leave." The door was slammed before they could say a word. Clark glanced at Bruce, who was fighting hard to keep himself from breaking down the door.

"..."

Bruce was angrier then Clark had seen him before, and he couldn't help but wonder why they just didn't help this kid. Even if it would change the future, what would it change? He had never heard of a Wallace West. Another thing that was bothering him: how had Bruce known the last name? The one thing that the Man of Steel understood for sure was that Bruce was in no way in a mood to talk. Although Clark was angry, he was much calmer then Bruce, who was fuming, and practically pacing, had his leg allowed him.

"So what do we do?" Clark finally asked. Bruce turned to him.

"The guy's too drunk to recognize me." He replied casually. "I say we break in." Clark gawked as Batman walked calmly towards the side of the house.

"What?!" He hissed, running to his friend's side.

"You want to help the kid; we need a place." He replied gruffly, rolling his eyes. "The kid wanted us to come- he won't mind."

"And his dad?"

"I don't think he'll tell his father if he finds out his dad doesn't want us here." Bruce replied. "But he won't tell us to leave, either."

"Why?"

"Think about it, Clark." Bruce muttered. Clark grumbled to himself. "So- X-ray the house, find his room, and take us there." Clark did as he was instructed. The house's front story was basically just what they had seen- stairs, a small living room, and a kitchen in the back. He tried his best to ignore the three figures. One was heading towards a smaller figure, and Superman could only avert his eyes.

On the second story were three rooms- a bathroom, and two bedrooms. One was decorated in furnishings that one might find in a hotel room. The other was decorated with posters of Superman, and cartoons. A small mattress sat on the floor. It was extremely hard to figure out which one belonged to Wallace.

"Come on, then." Clark told Bruce, picking him up, finding the resentment radiating off of the Dark Knight pretty funny. Everyone needed help, and Bruce's abhorence of this fact could be amusing. He guided them to the small room. Within seconds, Bruce had lock-picked the window, and they entered. "Breaking and entering." Superman muttered to himself. Bruce smirked his usual half-smile, then situated himself in a dark corner.

"We may have to wait for a while." He stated. "You may want to sleep." Clark rolled his eyes, but sat on the bed, flinching at the sound the movement created. No one noticed however.

There were times when Kal-el truly hated some of his powers. Sure, he knew that in the long run he wouldn't be able to live happily without being able to soar, but sometimes he wished he could be normal. Like now. His enhanced hearing picked up on the soft whimpering, the tiny cries, and he could almost hear the helpless fear.

Batman had been correct in his assumption that it would be a while before the kid, Wallace, would return, and, in order to quell his boredom, Clark's eyes gazed about the room, resting on the posters of himself, and on the various games. The child didn't have much compared to what even he as a child had had, but he had had a happiness in him- an abounding energy, that apparently even an abusive father couldn't kill. If the situation was not so dire, and the child in so much suffering and pain, he would have smiled and wondered at the amazing feats humanity made when needed.

Two superman posters hung on the wall- one hand drawn and the other an official one. There were various cartoons drawn by Wallace hung, with his signature proudly written in the lower right corner. A few toys littered the room, and one or two games, but other then that, the room was bare. Clark leaned back on the covers, surprised at the comfort he received. He then recalled, guiltily, the pain that Bruce had to have been in, considering his day. He glanced down at his comrade, and used his X-ray vision to peak beneath the makeshift gauze they had wrapped around the wounded leg hastily. The muscle tissue was broken, and the bone was scratched, and even though these weren't too bad (especially considering what could have happened) empathy and guilt swelled in Clark's heart. His flesh had never been pierced by a bullet, and it was too often that he forgot that Batman was not invincible. Like this afternoon.

When Bruce had said he would get the others, Clark had not even tried to object. It didn't matter that he was outnumbered. He was Batman. Guilty thoughts ran through his head, until he heard a quiet voice whisper with an edge of fear,

"Watson...?" Superman turned to the doorway and saw Wallace. A cut was above his lip, and another one was above his eyebrow. Bruises were already beginning to form around his visible body, and his left arm was nursing his right.

"Wallace," He breathed, with a soft smile. "You're all right." The kid nodded, looking unsure. He then blushed, looking ashamed.

"You came." He stated. Clark nodded awkwardly. "You talked to Rudolph?" Somewhat surprised by the fact he had used his father's first name, Clark nodded. The kid glared at him. "He thought I'd told someone- I'd never tell. Never."

"Calm down, kid," Bruce was on his knees, hiding a flinch. He held Wallace's eyes. "We- we came to see you. We told your father that, and he-"

"He thought I told you- but I didn't, and I won't, and I haven't told anyone, just like he told me not to-" His body was shaking with fear, frustration, and pain.

"I know- I know." Bruce nodded, and, to Clark's utter surprise, allowed the child to shove his head into his chest, crying quietly. "I know."

"I'm sorry." The kid muttered, bringing his head out of Bruce's chest. "I didn't mean to."

"Mean to what?" Clark asked, baffled. Bruce's face echoed the sentiments of confusion. Wallace blushed.

"It's all right to cry." Bruce murmured. Wallace shook his head.

"Rudolph says-"

"I don't give a damn about what that son of a bitch says." Bruce replied coldly. Wallace flinched as though he had been physically struck. Although he was too young to hear those kinds of words, Clark was surprised by the jerky reaction.

"I do." He replied. "And he says that men don't cry- and I'm a big boy. You're the 'son of a bitch'." The child replied. Bruce stared, shock showing in his usually unreadable features. "And I'm going to tell him you're here- I'm gonna scream, and he'll come, and see you, and he'll-"

"You aren't going to do that," Bruce replied calmly. "I know you won't, because I may not know you well, but I know you're the kind of big boy who knows what his daddy does is wrong." Wallace's eyes dropped to the floor.

"Why are you here?" He finally asked. "You and Watson left today- why'd you come back?"

"We need a place to say." Bruce replied, not bothering to lie. "And while we're here- your dad isn't going to hurt you." He paused. "Or your mom." A look of curiosity passed over the young face. Clark could tell that he was growing out of his childhood chubbiness, and that he wasn't eating as much as he should have been. The look that shaded his face now almost showed the weariness the child experienced, although only the slight bags beneath his eyes were any proof.

"How?" He finally asked, averting his eyes again.

"We have our ways. Dear Watson and I are trained in this kind of thing." Bruce paused. "We'll help you." Desperation was etched in Wallace's face, and tiny glimmers of hope shined in his eyes. Then the dark shadow of doubt and fear blocked the hope out. The desperation remained.

"No. It's okay. You should go." He pointed weakly at the window. Bruce nodded and, once again surprising Clark, headed to the window. The kid looked shocked and fearful.

"Last chance." The two words brought the hope back, and the desperation to new levels. His lips moved slightly, and Clark smiled when he heard what the child had said. "What did you say?" Bruce had not turned around yet, waiting for the answer he knew was going to come.

"Please don't go." Wallace whispered. He stared at the man who stood black against the moonlit sky shining through the bedroom window, who slowly began to turn. Bruce walked before him, and bent.

"Sure thing."

Okay, this chapter didn't bring much new stuff, except that Bruce and Clark are now gonna hide out in Wally's room. Clark is confused why they don't just hang out in a public place that's crowded, but Bruce, as we know, has his reasons. I tried not to make him and Wally OOC, but I think I might've so sorry if I did. Review if you liked it, or if you want to see something in the next few chapters while they hang out with Wally and the gang. Supes&Bats VS Rudy followed by Supes&Bats VS Supes&Bats! YAY!

More Rudolph Rudeness in the next chapter! Stay tuned!