I have an amendment to make to my use of the YJ timeline. It's in the author's note at the end of the chapter and if you're like me and pay attention to numbers and dates, you should check it out.
I heard the door open and close downstairs and heard footsteps. I dragged myself off of the bed. I had been laying there brooding since my uncle left and despite what Batman seems to think, brooding isn't a lot of fun, especially when your stomach is telling you to stop pouting and get some food. I was kind of glad that my mom was home; at least I had something to distract me from my guilt-ridden moping.
I limped downstairs and looked around for my mom. A head of short brownish-red hair peeked out from over the arm of the couch. I looked over the side and saw Mom, in a knock-out-deep sleep, her work clothes still on. The bags under her eyes were very dark now and she was a little pale. I looked at her sadly and went to get a blanket from the closet, deciding that I'd cut her some slack and make dinner for a change.
I restrained myself from eating before dinner. The cupboards in our kitchen were pretty bare, and I didn't want to clean all the food out of the cupboard. I didn't want mom to have to worry about grocery shopping until she absolutely had to, she was so exhausted as it was. I figured that it wouldn't kill me to wait a little.
I was sitting on the counter, waiting impatiently for the chicken casserole to finish cooking when I heard a yelp from the couch.
I looked up.
"I'm sorry Rudy, I'm sorry," Mom mumbled. She said some unintelligible sentences before she started crying in her sleep.
I cringed, not knowing whether I should wake her up or not. I wasn't sure what I'd do if I did wake her up. Would she even want me to wake her? I wouldn't want people waking me up if I had a nightmare, that'd be awkward. Yet again I'm a guy, chicks are different about emotions and junk…Does Mom count as a chick though? I'm pretty sure Mom's have their own category.
I sat there for a few minutes, unsure of myself, trying to ignore her crying…
Wow. I feel like a terrible person, I should go wake her up…But what am I supposed to say? I'll probably just make her feel worse.
She cried some more and I fiddled with my sleeve nervously.
Well, the casserole only has a few more minutes left. I'll just wake her up for dinner when the timer goes off. She can save face that way. She doesn't have to know that I know she was crying. That's what I'd want someone to do for me. Is that what she would want though?
I almost fell off the counter when my sleeve started smoking. Guess I'd been fidgeting with it in superspeed.
What kind of idiot sets themself on fire when they're just sitting around doing nothing?
I sighed and bounced my leg up and down. I heard a shift in sound coming from the couch. Mom stopped crying and her breathing steadied.
Is it mean of me to be glad that I don't have to deal with her now? I wondered.
Probably, my conscious said, a little snottily.
I fiddled with the end of my sleeve again, pulling out strings and ruining the hem-line.
So what, you're destroying your clothes now? Your parents are having a hard enough time without having to replace your clothes too. Are you trying to make things worse?
I gritted my teeth and chewed my lip compulsively, my stomach churning.
I knew what I was doing. I was feeling anxious, and since I had no outlet for my feelings I was internalizing them and attacking myself for everything I did.
You're a moron.
I knew intellectually that I was being stupid.
Because you are stupid you worthless runt, your dad thinks you're worthless, he cared more about the TV than you.
I knew that not everything I was telling myself was true.
Stop lying to yourself.
But understanding things isn't the same as feeling them.
You understand nothing, you ignoramus!
The kitchen timer went off and I numbly pulled the chicken casserole out and set it on the stove to cool.
Normally the smell of food would be hard for me to resist, I'd been starving a few minutes ago, but my stomach was acting about as violent as my thoughts and I had no desire to eat.
But you need to eat, the rational part of my subconscious told me.
No you don't, you're not using your superspeed, you're not being useful. You don't need food you moron, the snotty part of my persona told me.
You do, Wally you may not think you're hungry, but you are, said my valiant sense of reason.
My stomach churned again.
If I eat I'll throw up. I thought to myself. My logic and my inner demon had a lot to say about that last thought, but I pushed them to the back of my mind as I stood up and fixed Mom a plate of food.
I didn't touch the stuff myself.
Mom glared at me when I first shook her awake (she never was much of a morning person) but smiled when she saw the chicken casserole I made.
"Thanks, Sweetie-Green-Eyes," she slurred as she sat up and took the plate.
She shoveled the concoction into her mouth and chewed as if she hadn't eaten in years.
"Any good?" I asked.
"Mmhm!" she grunted before swallowing. "Haven't eaten all day, I had to work through lunch."
"Mom," I frowned at her. "You need to start taking breaks when your boss tells you to."
She rolled her eyes. "I wanted to get out early today, I was so tired. I had to pull over and take a nap on the drive home so I wouldn't crash."
This comment made me feel guilty—well, guiltier. It was partly my fault that she'd been up all night.
"You've gotten a lot better at cooking," she said as she chewed ravenously.
"Yea, instant ramen and microwave burritos just weren't cutting it," I said gesturing at the ravenous fiend that was my stomach. Though it didn't feel so ravenous at the moment.
My stomach contradicted my thoughts by growling.
Mom looked at me questioningly. "Was that your stomach?"
"Uh…"
Mom's phone buzzed from somewhere across the room.
"Could you grab me my purse?" asked mom.
Saved by technology, nice.
I stumbled over to it leaning a little more heavily on my crutches than I had before. I bent down with a little difficulty and picked it up, bringing it back to her.
She pulled out her phone, looked at a text, and grinned before putting the phone down.
"Who was that?" I asked.
"Just Julie, she sent me a picture of her daughter's latest drawing," she said with a smile. "I remember when you were that age," said my mom, nodding towards the picture on the wall of the two of us at my kindergarten graduation.
"You were so cute. That was a really good year, you know?"
I nodded. I didn't remember much from that year, but a few events were still strong in my mind. Dad had given me an action figures set after my graduation ceremony. He and Mom were gushing about me making honor roll.
Dad and me used to play aliens and spacemen with those action figures. We'd have a blast, running around and fighting terrible Martian invaders (I will never tell M'gann), those memories are some of my favorites.
That was the only time in my life that I remember that felt completely carefree, happy. I was too young to notice the constant tension or the rocky stages. All I saw was what my young mind had whipped up. Mommy and Daddy were married so that meant they had to have true love like in the Disney movies, and Daddy was the best worker at the factory and one day I was going to be just like him, only I'd also be a firefighter, a professional baseball player, and a superhero too.
Well at least I got one thing right. I thought dryly as I remembered running around my house, pretending to rescue civilians and wrestle lions.
I don't know when I noticed that not all was well in the house of West. I think it was around second grade, the time that Mom had refused to let me join the kiddie-league T-ball team as a punishment for…I don't remember what I'd done to deserve that, but I had cried a lot Dad had gone and signed me up anyway. Mom screamed at him for undermining her and he argued back. It was the first time I'd seen them fight. Things were never really the same after that. Maybe it was for them, but it wasn't for me.
I remember how scared I felt whenever I heard them yell. I remembered when I got so stressed out that year in second grade that I started chewing holes in my sleeves. Mom tore me a new one for that, so I had stopped. And had taken up lip biting instead, thanks Mom.
"Got anymore casserole, or did you eat it all?" asked my Mom with a good humored look.
"Huh?" I said my train of thought crashed into a brick wall and left me a little confused.
"Casserole."
"Oh, yeah."
I went to the full crock-pot of casserole and scooped some more out for Mom.
I probably would have been ticked at Mom for making me get up and move around so much when I was on crutches, but I felt so bad about keeping her up all night then leaving her to suffer through her nightmares that I didn't complain.
"You should do your homework," said Mom. "I know you're going to that HQ with your team this weekend, and I don't want you waiting until Sunday night."
I didn't even have the heart to groan as I shuffled my way over to where I'd left my books. I glanced up at the clock out of habit as I opened my mathematics binder.
It was almost eight o' clock.
My gut clenched uncomfortably and I shifted my weight nervously. Dad would be home in a few hours. As a speedster, a few hours usually felt like forever to me, but now it seemed like no time at all. I couldn't stop myself running through scenarios.
What if he came home in a rage again? I could protect myself well enough if I really had to, but it would be much harder for me to protect mom. If I got into a fight my technique would have to be crude, on the offense, which didn't allow for a whole lot of mercy. If Dad got a hold of Mom, I would probably have to break some bones.
I felt my teeth scrape over my bottom lip again and growled in annoyance. It was impossible not to notice my little tic after Uncle Barry had pointed it out. I snatched a pack of gum out of my pencil case and popped a piece into my mouth, occupying my traitorous teeth with ferocious chewing.
I felt my body start itching to start running in superspeed and I threw myself into my math homework, trying to distract myself. It wasn't until the pencil started smoking that I realized I was going in superspeed. I glanced at my completed worksheet and grimaced at the few holes that I had unknowingly torn into it. Then I looked back at the clock. Less than three minutes had passed. I squirmed a little and pulled out my Spanish homework.
After five more minutes and a slightly charred pencil, I gave up trying to distract myself and fidgeted, trying to think. It was hard to focus when I felt so nauseous. I unconsciously wiped my sweaty palms on my pants. My eyes wandered around before settling on Mom's brightly colored purse. I suddenly remembered the text Mom's friend had sent her.
Julie. Of course!
"H-Hey, uh, Mom?" I said, when I could trust my mouth to speak without revealing how frazzled I felt.
She looked over at me, from where she was curled up on the couch watching some stupid soap opera.
"Uh, well, it's been awhile since you've seen Julie, right? Weren't you two supposed to go see that chick flick together?" I asked.
"Well, yes," my mom replied. She gave me a strange look, clearly confused by my random question, "but we got busy with other things."
"Why don't you catch a late showing tonight? Both of her kids will be in bed by then and neither of you have to be up for work tomorrow."
My mom looked at me in confusion.
"Honey, that's pretty late notice…"
"Doesn't hurt to try," I interrupted.
"Tonight's not really a good night, I'm tired" said mom wearily.
"Please, Mom," I begged.
She looked at me and I knew she knew what I was up to, but she asked anyway.
"Why?"
"You know why," I told her.
"Honey—"
"No."
"But you're injured!"
Exactly, I can't protect you when I'm like this.
"I've healed a lot since last night, look," I stood up, forcing myself not to gasp in pain or allow my legs to tremble. I stood up quickly and walked towards her, no crutches. I kept a straight face, hoping Mom wouldn't notice how tightly I was clenching my jaw. The gum I had been chewing crushed itself flat between my teeth as I tried to keep my mouth shut.
I held my ground for as long as I could as she watched me. I felt blood soaking through my bandages as newly healed skin shifted and tore.
"I need to stay here," she said.
"Not tonight, Mom," just go," I wasn't asking anymore. My voice was forceful, commanding…aggressive. My unkind tone was more a product of pain than annoyance, but it did the trick. Mom nodded, but I didn't miss the way she flinched as she did it.
I nodded back tensely and forced myself to walk back to the couch and sit down slowly, as if my legs weren't about to give out from under me.
Mom grabbed her cell phone to call her friend, and I sighed in relief when she said Julie was available. Mom left a little before ten and I knew her and her friend would probably go to a café or something and talk after the movie so I felt a lot more at ease with the fact that my dad was coming home. My stomach felt a little better, but the churning feeling still lingered.
It made me uneasy that Mom had obeyed me. Not only was she confirming Dad as a threat that she couldn't cope with, but she hadn't been willing to listen to me until I spoke to her harshly. A couple months ago she would have responded with righteous fury, but now she was just…timid. Was my Mom losing her confidence? Did she think she had to put up with that kind of thing?
I stayed in the living room as it approached the time dad would come home. . I wanted to meet my dad when he came in the door so he wouldn't smash anything.
I waited, nervous. I chewed my gum compulsively until I felt my mouth go dry. I hadn't realized how dehydrated I was… I ended up chugging a couple glasses of water. I considered eating something too, but I felt too sick to hold anything down, so I just fidgeted and finished off my homework, glancing at the door periodically. It was like waiting for an explosion.
After a while, I heard the door open and Dad staggered in, I frowned.
His red eyes focused on me.
"Wha're you doin? Get out of my seat!" I wasn't aware that Dad had a designated 'seat' but stood up and moved anyway.
"I'm hungry, where's my dinner? Mary!" he shouted.
"I'll get it!" I said hastily and stumbled into the kitchen as quickly as my injuries would allow.
"Mary!" he bellowed.
I hastily opened the fridge and popped his plate of leftovers into the microwave. Hope he doesn't mind chicken casserole.
"How was your day, Dad?" I yelled, trying to distract him, but he wasn't having it.
"Where's Mary?"
"She's at a movie with Julie" I said, "she'll be back soo—"
"Liar!" dad screamed, and he leaped off the couch and charged at me. I dodged and he barreled straight into a kitchen cabinet cabinet so hard, that his nose started dripping with blood.
Dad yelled, looking mildly psychotic, and came at me again. I dodged again and Dad—who had been leaning really far forward, trying to grab me—fell on his face in a manner that looked like the Charlie Brown fall, only in reverse.
"How dare you hit me! After ever'thin I've done for you!" he slurred."
"You're the one attacking me!" I said, trying not to think of the fact that his logic had regressed to that of a Central City rogue.
I caught his fist as it came at me with my left hand and shoved him. He stumbled backwards, fell, and smacked his head against the wall. He ended up on the ground—and he wasn't moving.
I froze, horrified.
"Dad?" I asked, panicking as I knelt down next to him, ignoring the protest of my shins. His fist came at me and I scrambled back.
"Worthless Brat" he hissed "prolly not even mine, and Mary out running around on me again."
"She's not running around! She's at the movies!" I said, now scared.
What will he do to her if he thinks she's been cheating again?
I had to dodge another fist as my dad stood up. He staggered sideways and panted as if he'd just sprinted across a football field.
"Shuddup and gimme a beer!" he slurred once he had caught his breath and he, stomped away towards the couch. I almost had a heart attack when the microwave timer went off behind me. My hands shook a little as I took it out and grabbed a beer from the fridge. I brought him his dinner, taking care to go the long way to set it down, so I wouldn't be within attack range.
I stood back and watched him nurse his sore nose (thankfully it wasn't broken), consume beer and chicken casserole, and occasionally bellow random phrases. He seemed to have exercised the violence out of himself because he mostly just sat there watching mindless sitcoms while demanding more beer.
When he finally got tired he went upstairs to bed, not wanting to sleep on the couch.
I got to work as soon as I was sure he was asleep. I took samples of the blood that came from his nose and saliva from the beer cans and preserved them for analysis tomorrow in the cave's lab.
After that I cleaned up the mess Dad had made in the living room and kitchen. It was easy work, though the pain I felt in my legs slowed me down. I had to stop and change my bandages, which was painful because I'd left them on too long and they were sticking to the skin. The wounds had healed a little more though. Probably adrenaline from the fight, I thought.
I had just finished when Mom texted me, asking if it was okay to come home.
"Yes" I texted. "If you're still with Julie take a picture with your cell of you two together, and keep your movie ticket."
When she arrived I led her into the living room and we started whispering to each other.
"Do you have your movie ticket, and the photo?" I whispered.
"Yes, why?" she asked, confused.
"He didn't believe me when I said you were at the movies," I explained.
Mom suddenly looked a little pale and anxious, a perfect illustration of the feelings I was trying to hide.
"Why don't you sleep on the bed in my room tonight? He's a little crazy right now and, well, he might be angry if you wake him. I'll take the couch, it's easier for me anyway, I can get to the fridge without braving the stairs."
"Okay," Mom said. She didn't argue one bit, meaning she had no doubt that she should fear her husband at the moment.
I clenched my fists, but smiled at her and gave her a kiss goodnight.
I watched her go upstairs and heard her open and close the door to my room.
Now that my focus was off my parents I realized that jaw felt a little sore and I found myself still chewing the gum. I moved towards the kitchen trashcan to spit it out but suddenly a horrible feeling hit me and I collapsed to my knees clutching at my middle. I would have thrown up if there had been anything in my stomach.
You moron, you should have eaten something.
The edges of my vision started to blur.I used my last bit of coherent thought to spit out my gum so I wouldn't choke. My head spun and I blacked out on the carpet.
"Wally, Wally baby, get up. Honey, I need you to wake up."
I opened my eyes and felt my head pound viciously.
"Mom?" I rasped trying to focus my vision
"Wally, what happened? Are you okay?" I could tell that Mom was freaking out.
My stomach answered her and I curled up, resting my head against the carpet and closing my eyes.
I heard her speak, but I wasn't listening, I just fell asleep again.
Someone shook me insistently.
"Wally, come on, wake up!" Mom sounded like she was crying.
I opened my eyes to find myself propped against the back of the couch. Mom was sitting in front of me. I opened my mouth a little to ask what was wrong and Mom shoved something into my mouth. She forced me to tilt my head back and a liquid rushed into my mouth I swallowed reflexively. I started to struggle on instinct after the first few gulps, but mom held my head in place, forcing the liquid down my throat. After several more gulps she let me go and took the liquid away. I gasped for breath and my vision sharpened.
Things started to make a little sense. I realized it was daytime, and I remembered that I'd passed out last night. I tasted something sweet and licked my lips.
Orange juice.
"Wally?"
I looked over at my Mom, who had tears in her eyes.
"Huh?"
As soon as I said it I felt a terrible thirst ripple across my tongue.
I snatched the orange juice carton from Mom's hand and chugged the rest of it. I frowned when the juice was gone and Mom handed me a gallon of milk before running into the kitchen. I had poured half the gallon down my throat when mom came back, snatched the milk away and started shoving something into my mouth, my cheeks puffed out with whatever she had stuffed into my mouth as soon as I swallowed mom stuffed some more of whatever it was into my mouth. I grabbed her wrist as she tried to shove more of whatever it was into my mouth.
I looked around disoriented and saw the leftover chicken casserole next to me and Mom was holding a spoon.
"You need to eat," said my mom firmly.
I looked down at the food.
"M'kay," I slurred and took the spoon from her. The next thing I knew all the casserole was gone. Things started making a little more sense after that. I was actually able to focus on the things around me. I saw Mom sitting next to me surrounded by various dry goods.
She cracked open a can of pears and handed it to me before snatching up a can opener to open some green beans.
It was a few more moments before Mom spoke up.
"What happened?"
"Dunno," I lied.
"Wally," said Mom warningly.
"Went to bed without eating first."
"You went to bed on the floor?" said my mom disbelievingly.
I need a good lie…
Mom wasn't as sharp as my uncle, so I allowed my thoughts to kick into superspeed.
"My metabolism freaked out and started healing me super fast, I was going to go eat something to compensate but I ended up passing out from the pain of my bone fixing itself and my skin re-growing."
Mom looked worried.
"We should call your uncle after your dad wakes up," she said.
"No," I said quickly. "I mean, uh, he won't be home, he'll be…at the cave! Yeah, he told Red Tornado last night that he would help fix a machine that uh…Superboy broke in the training room. Boy doesn't know his own strength, ha ha!" I laughed nervously before continuing my lie.
"But anyway, I'll just ask him to give me another check up while I'm there, I'm sure everything's fine. He said uh, that uh, Trickster's acid might cause something like this to happen! Yeah, but, uh, he didn't expect it to be this extreme, but it's not a big deal! I'll just have him look me over when I get to the cave.
Mom stared at me.
"Oh…Okay, then. Alright, yeah. We'll get you to the cave." She said uncertainly, though I knew she could tell I was nervous. I tried to think of an excuse…I saw my wad of gum lying on the carpet a few feet away
"Imsrybouthegm!" I said, purposefully rushing my words to fake anxiety.
"Wally! Speak Slowly!" snapped my Mom. She hates it when I rush my sentences.
"Um…I'm sorry about the gum," I lied.
"What gum?"
"I had gum and, uh, I like, spat it out when uh, I knew I was going to pass out and it's s-stuck in the carpet now," I said pointing at it.
"Wally," mom groaned.
"I'll get it out!"
She sighed and glanced at the clock
"No, no, you have less than an hour before you're supposed to be at the cave and I still have to drive you to the area where the zeta-beam is," she sighed. "I'll take care of it, the last thing we need is for your uncle to come over to see why you're late, I don't want him to wake your father up."
"Dad's not awake yet?" I asked nervously.
"No, he's pretty tired," she replied.
My teeth scratched at my lip and I wished I had another piece of gum.
"Maybe I should stay until after he wakes up," I said.
"No, Wally, there's no need for that."
"But what if he gets mad again? He was pretty mad last night."
"He's always better in the mornings, Wally, you know that."
"Better?" I demanded. What does she know? "Better, what do you mean better? Is he sick? Why are things different in the mornings? Why has he been acting like this, why—"
"That's between me and you're father," snapped mom getting defensive.
"And yet I'm still involved so what—"
"This discussion is over."
"Mom!"
"Enough."
"But Mo—"
"Wallace West! You shut your mouth and go get ready to meet your team this instant!"
I glared at her and used the back of the couch to pull myself up. I stormed away in a huff, though the effect was ruined by the fact that I was wobbling on my crutches.
She doesn't want to tell me? Fine! I'll just go to the caves and test the blood and saliva samples I got from Dad.
Okay, so about what I said up top…You ever had one of those 'Epic Fail' moments? I had one recently when I looked at the Young Justice timeline.
I've been going out of my way to follow the timeline when I realized that it was made for 2010-2011, not 2011, 2012, so basically I'm a day behind as far as Failsafe goes. I thought it took place on Sunday, but it happened on a Saturday. I would rework my story to make failsafe happen Saturday, but it would mean rushing a few other things that I've set up the previous chapters for, so I'll just keep my little error (lucky this is fanfiction and I could make it take place whenever I want) as is and merge with the correct timeline when I reach the next "official" Young Justice episode.
Sorry guys. I'm really trying to stick to the official plotline here, going by the calendar helps me time things in terms of the characters and where they are in their developments, but like I said: epic fail.
