Words: 907
Characters: Wally West
Notes: By far one of the worst things I think I've ever written but I needed to practice/blow off steam from the events of November-so-far. I actually wasn't going to post this on FF but I figured, why the hell not, if at least two other people seemed to like it on Tumblr. /throws hands up in the air /is so done with this show /so done with this boy /so done with life /done done done

just don't let it get to you, intermission #1

All it took was a little push.

It only took one little nudge on fate's part until Wally was hanging off of the edge, dangling by a string, and holding on for dear life - sometimes literally, too. He didn't believe in fate but if he did, he'd think that it had a weird way of showing him the right "path" or whatever.

So there he was. On the metaphoric ledge of his teenage life, and he could've dropped at any given second. There was nothing more exhilarating and terrifying than the prospect of your impending doom weighing down on your shoulders. But Wally lived for that rush; he knew Artemis did, too.

He didn't know that she would be one of the factors that could catalyze that sort of reaction from him. It was like she came out of nowhere – out of the dark, out of the light, materializing out of nowhere to give him one look, one raised eyebrow – just to smirk at him and wrap him around her little finger.

And you know, he thought he was always faster than everyone. Even his Aunt Iris started to mention more that that was why he could never get a girlfriend.

You're going too fast, kiddo.

Sometimes she grinned afterwards and Wally would call her out on the innuendo at hand but other times he'd be slouching in her couch, Uncle Barry nowhere in the vicinity, and she'd perch herself on the couch's arm and automatically he'd lean into the comfort of her stomach and she'd shush him, tousle his hair and tell him, "Slow down, Wally."

Slow down, Wally.

And when it came to Artemis, he wanted to slow down and speed up at the same time because hell if he knew what was going on whenever she was around.

What was it exactly about this girl? Since when did he falter in the presence of something that didn't have a Y-chromosome? What happened to the smooth and suave Wally West he'd come to know and love?

See, Wally thought that Artemis was kind of like a hurricane but without the eye of the storm. There was no calm in the middle when it came to her. It was always up and down, left and right, in and out - whatever he did, there was no escaping her and it frustrated him to no end that he was the only one being thrown around like this.

So: what right did this harpy have coming into his life and have him desperate for changing and starving for some kind of answer?

None. She had no right.

And then Bialya happened and he was flung around again. Except this time, he landed in the calm of the storm. The calm that was never supposed to exist. He and Artemis were never supposed to get along and yet, there they were. In two streaks of green and gold against the blazing sun of the Bialyan desert… they worked. And they knew it, too.

But taking a step back seemed to be the only good choice back then because, really? Since when did spontaneous splotches of red and majestic swirls of gold ever go together? She was out of his league in her kickass combat boots and surefire mouth, always ready with some sassy, smartass comment that never failed to make him look bad. Sweet didn't seem like her style and at the end of the day, that was all he really had going for him. Wally was the good guy, Artemis was the bad girl, and no amount of acting on his part would change that.

It felt just like heading down a spiral, or maybe tumbling down a long, winding staircase that wouldn't end. He was head over heels for her and he was getting bruised and battered – and goddamn it, it wasn't helping his masculinity or his self-confidence in any way whatsoever.

Don't let that harpy get to you, he'd tell himself.

But every day, he would. And every evening, he'd wonder why. Why, why, why - who are you - why, why, and why.

And he figured it out after they killed her under the confines of a telepathically enhanced nightmare. She was important for a reason. She was affecting him - and only him - for a reason.

He wasn't running away from this girl; nor was he trying to outrun her. He was running to her.

He just wasn't fast enough.

Yet.

Maybe he wasn't ready for this. But he could learn to adapt, to change. And maybe this whole time he'd been running so fast, waiting for something he never knew was going to come anyway and she'd been right there all along and he just didn't know about it.

But if she wanted him wrapped around her finger, then so be it. If she wanted to throw him around like the dastardly hurricane she was, then go ahead. Because he'd come right back for more until he could figure out every single inch of her.

Was he ever going to be fast enough for her? Maybe. He was on the edge, biting right at her heel, and he was gaining on her every day, and soon enough he'd be the swift wind that picked her up and took her away - wherever she wanted, wherever they wanted. Just like Bialya.

Was he masochistic for doing this to himself? Maybe. But in only the sweetest way possible.