It's hard to believe that there is anything that the full power of the Justice League can't do, but the news spreads like rot from one person to the next, through the Justice League and beyond into the greater superhero community, and the news that is brought back is always the same.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
It's a bitter consolation that the older heroes knew as much as they did before Wally left (with the exception of Batman, but then Batman is always the exception). It's a twisted sort of knowledge that one of them, at the least, can evade some of the most powerful people in the world. They aren't being treated as children, as the lesser end of a partnership; they are on equal footing with the other heroes in the search for Wally, and it's one of the worst feelings in the world.
All they really are is equally useless.
Artemis doesn't know Wally that well. She knows him (knew him?), but she's only been around for a little while, and their whole friendship's sort of shaky and antagonistic. She knows him, but she doesn't really know him, you know? So she hadn't really been surprised when she found out she didn't know about all the crap he went through, after it's not like she talks to anyone about her family dramas.
The thing is that even though she's not the one that knows Wally the best, not by a long shot, she's the one that gets it. She understands how he could leave everything behind to get away from something that she, that he, just couldn't do. She understands the need to gain some sort of control over life when every option seems as though it will be as bad as the last. Hell, to a certain extent she's been there, back when her parents were having "custody issues," and her mom was still learning how to function in her wheel chair. The difference is she was never on the streets as long as Wally has been already, and she always had a place to run to.
She doesn't know Wally very well, and she understands better than the others. It's a hallow kind of comfort, but she wraps it around herself like a shield.
In Central City a missing persons report is filed. With the note confirming that he's a runaway the police do little more than process the paperwork.
In the middle of the chaos that ensues from Wally's departure Kaldur finds that it is easy enough to locate a corner, and quietly access a computer terminal. Though he is no Robin it is still only moments before he has the information he desires.
The next day finds Kaldur in Central City making a series of discreet stops.
He is not pleased with what he learns. At all. Although the fight is the only altercation reported it is by far not the only one. Instead he finds it last in a long list of systematic abuse. It is possible that his displeasure is apparent, but all the promises of changed behavior in the world mean little after the damage has been done, will mean even less without Wally's return.
His team is a responsibility that Kaldur takes very seriously, and if he perhaps makes a show of meeting M'gann, Conner, and Artemis at their schools occasionally in the upcoming weeks he feels he cannot be blamed. He will not fail them in such a way again.
Roy can feel the bags that have gathered underneath his eyes. He's had little sleep lately, less than usual even. He's in a city, and it doesn't matter what city it is, because the places he's searching have all begun to look the same to him. The people have all begun to look the same to him.
He's starting to worry that he won't be able to pick Wally out even if he does come across him.
"Roy." He didn't hear Ollie join him on the roof, but to be honest he's still used to Ollie's presence, still falls into sink with the older man whenever they are together without a conscious thought. He doesn't notice Ollie joining him because he's still so used to him always being there. "Roy, you need to get some sleep. This isn't helping anything."
He has the urge to snap at Ollie, to tell him that he can take care of himself. To remind him that he's not a child. But…
He remembers when Wally first found out that he was adopted. He remembers telling Wally all about his father and Brave Bow, and he remembers Wally's response. He didn't respond with the usual condolences, or look at Roy any differently than he had before. He just told Roy that he was lucky, and that Wally was glad that Ollie had adopted him. At the time Roy had put it off as just another instance of Wally being socially awkward, or thinking it cool that he got adopted by a rich superhero.
But ever since he found out that Wally was a foster kid (found out that Wally was gone) he can't help looking at those words differently. Because Wally wasn't as lucky as he was. Wally didn't get adopted; Wally didn't always have someone that was there for him.
Ollie puts his hand on Roy's shoulder and turns him away from the roof edge so that they are facing each other. "We'll find him. Just come home for a while, get some rest."
He's too tired to do any good right now, and underneath his stubbornness he knows it. He lets out a breath and nods stiffly. Ollie's hand trails off of his shoulder and Roy gives in to the emotions tumbling around inside him, and leans forward to wrap his own arms around Ollie. If anyone calls him on it later he can claim exhaustion. "I'm glad that, that you…"
Ollie returns the hug, arms wrapping tight around him. "I know. Me too."
The steady beat of his heart is loud in Dick's head. The smell of chalk dust blooms with every impact and shift of his hands on the equipment. He's cut away at portions of his cast so that to free his movement, and it's only years of practice in every imaginable condition that let him compensate for the injury, placing the smallest amount of stress on it possible. His muscles are lost somewhere in the constant movement of his limbs, a prevalent ache that tells him that the only thing that keeps them moving is his continued momentum.
It takes a moment, lost in the rhythm of movement, to notice Alfred waiting patiently off to the side. He finishes a few turns and dismounts onto shaky legs. He grabs his towel, wiping off excess sweat, and takes large gulps from his water bottle.
Alfred doesn't say anything in a way that itches at the back of Dick's mind, inviting him to fill the empty air with his troubles. For a while he stubbornly refuses, not even making eye contact with the older gentleman as he studiously concentrates on the wall.
Alfred has years of experience at getting stubborn young men to talk though, and eventually Dick snaps, throwing his water bottle and whirling around to face him. "Why didn't he tell me? Why didn't Bruce tell me?"
Alfred made a soft humming sound in the back of his thought. "And what, precisely, would that have changed, Master Richard?"
Dick threw his arms wide. "It would have changed this!"
Alfred stays quiet for a moment, letting the room fill with the sound of Dick's panting breath. "I see. So if you had known Master Wally was a foster child earlier you would not have been troubled that he ran away."
"Yes! No!" His voice drops to a whisper, "No. It's just, didn't he trust me?"
Alfred approached and, ignoring both propriety and the sweat that still clings to him, gathers Dick into a hug. "I highly doubt that it had anything to do with you, Master Richard; some things are not a matter of trust."
Face pressed tightly against Alfred's chest, in a position that he has whispered so many of his secrets and fears, Dick tells one more. "I'm scared. I'm scared I won't ever get to see him again."
Alfred runs his hand through Dick's hair, holding him tight. "I believe a great many are scared of the same thing."
Mount Justice becomes the central hub in the search for Wally, and people find themselves gravitating towards it whenever they have a free moment, as though their added presence alone will somehow help. It's the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, and there are more people crowded into the mountain than there have been since the first day that Wally ran away. It will be the first holiday since, and it is made all the harder by the knowledge that it is Wally's favorite; all about food, and family.
It is also the day that Batman activates a new search program aimed at detecting Wally's movements. Since the first day when the team had watched the Flash break down in Wally's room he has been making a noticeable effort to act normal, and he hovers over Batman's shoulder as he implements the program with an air of casualness that is faked so well it's almost believable.
"So, how exactly is this supposed to track him?" Ollie asks. The heroes within earshot stop to listen to the answer.
Batman seems to consider before he answers. "It analyzes data to find anomalies that appear or disappear quickly, and flags incidents that show signs of a participant engaging in abnormal speeds."
Flash frowns. "I thought we were already looking for any signs of him helping people."
Batman's hands pause over the keyboard for one telling second. "The search parameters have been expanded upon."
The Flash's teeth grind together tightly. "Wally is a good kid."
Batman stays silent. Ollie coughs nervously and tries to stretch a smile across his face, attempting to find anything that he can say to diffuse the situation.
The Flashes hands ball up into fists. "He's a good kid."
Mary West drags herself out of bed sometime before another day begins. Sometime after the last one ended. Sometime. It doesn't really matter. The last times she ate, showered or left her house are fuzzy ideas in the back of her head. She thinks she might have done something on Thursday, but today has been Thursday, and Friday, and Wednesday several times before she gave up on labeling it. It's all the same.
Wally is still gone.
By the time Rudolph gets home from the double shift he had picked up, that he had needed to pick up since she stopped going to work, the alcohol in the house is gone too.
Eventually the team is given a mission.
Wally's absence is a constant ache, like the phantom pains of a missing limb, but it isn't the first time they have fought wounded, and it won't be the last. The mission is a success.
Christmas approaches and M'gann can barely contain her excitement. She learned all about Christmas from Earth television.
Christmas is magical.
She decorates the mountain with pine branches, bows, bells, tinsel, blinking lights, mistletoe, and a tree. She watches all her favorite Christmas specials on the TV. She gets presents for Uncle J'onn and all her friends. She starts making piles and piles of cookies so that there will plenty for when he comes (and she doesn't care what the others say, he's coming and she knows it). Christmas eve she sets out a small batch, a glass of milk, and goes to bed early even though she spends most of the night lying awake, too excited to sleep.
She wakes up in the morning and they open presents. All of them are very nice, but they can't compare to the one she knows is coming. She spends the rest of the day in the kitchen making every dish she's ever learned.
The few hours of sunlight pass, darkness ticks by, and suddenly Kaldur is in the kitchen with her, hand stopping the motion of her rolling pin over the pasta dough.
"M'gann, perhaps it is time to retire for the night?"
She shakes her head and shakes Kaldur's hand off from her own. "He's going to be hungry when he gets here," she says.
"M'gann…"
She ignores him and focuses on her pasta dough. Last time she made it too thick, and her raviolis didn't turn out right. This time everything has to be perfect.
Kaldur sits patiently off to the side, and speaks to Conner in a soft voice when he appears before Conner joins him in his silent vigil.
Midnight comes and Wally hasn't returned. There is no Christmas miracle.
Conner and Kaldur are there to hold her when she cries.
People begin to notice that Kid Flash stopped appearing. The press is easy enough to persuade that nothing has happened when they notice Kid Flash's absence. But the press is always happy to eat up every word the League says. The Rogues aren't so easy to fool. They've faced The Flasher often enough to know when something is up, and the Kid missing is definitely something. Something enough to be the topic of Thursday Night Poker.
"Could be he's just out of the game," suggests Heatwave. "I fold."
"So Baby Flash steps down and the Geezer comes out of retirement? Don't make no sense." Mirror Master shuffles his cards in his hand making aborted glances the various mirrors that they had covered before the start of a game. He throws two red chips into the pile. "I raise."
"Raise." Boomer throws in five red chips without glancing at his cards. "Well, he ain't dead. Bloody Flasher just about flipped his lid when I suggested it. Still got the damn bruises."
Piper seems to study his cards, consciously not humming any song, which is a shame because Cold has never met a tell quite as expressive as Piper and his humming. "You don't think someone has him, do you?" Trust Piper to go all bleeding heart on them. "Call."
"All in!" The Trickster pushed forward an overflowing pile of candy.
"You went all in last hand," Cold reminds him. "You're out."
The Trickster pulls his candy back in with a huff. "See if I share with you."
"I say who cares if he is? Not like the Kid is our problem." Weather Wizard say. "Fold."
Cold grunts in agreement, throws in his five chips, and nods over at Mirror Master who grudgingly throws in another two. "Last thing we need is some other League reject thinking they can move in on our turf, or the Flash takin' a dive off the deep end.," says Mirror Master. "And the way he ruffed up Boomer ain't exactly a ringin' endorsement on his state o' mind." The others grunt (or in Piper's case nod) in agreement. Mirror Master turns over his cards revealing a flush. "Not exactly good for business either."
Boomer frowns, throwing his three of a kind off to the side in disgust. "Are we actually talking about wanting that annoying little pipsqueak back?"
"I like him," says the Trickster, carefully arranging all of his candy into a house. "He gets my jokes."
"Like I said, annoying."
Piper turns over four Jacks. Cold and Weather Wizard both groan at the display, and Piper takes that as his cue to take the winnings. "We should do something. We can't just let something happen to him."
"Of course not," Weather Wizard says sarcastically, "we just make something happen to him."
Piper glares and Cold can feel a headache building behind his eyes. "We're not doing anything, because we don't know anything. Keep your ears to the ground, not literally." Trickster gets up from the floor, and back into his chair where he balances it precariously on two legs. Cold sighs, and reminds himself that he is nobodies' mother. "We'll figure out what to do, if anything, when we know more. Now hurry up and deal the next hand."
Wally's birthday is January 16th. Every superhero, and all of the Rogues, have heard the date often enough that there is no way they could forget it.
The day passes in conspicuous silence.