A/N: Hey, everybody! Sorry about disappearing off the face of the planet for two weeks. Computer issues, you know. Anyway, this is the last installment of Step 8, which means the end is quickly approaching. Thanks, all of you!

I do not own Young Justice or any other DC characters.

Please review!


"He fell asleep."

"That's good. He probably needs the rest. Has he eaten anything recently?"

Wally looked guiltily at Bart. "I don't think so, Dick."

"Well, make sure you take care of that. You were always worse when you were hungry."

"I distinctly remember being always hungry."

"That explains a lot, then." Dick chuckled.

"Least I was over four feet tall," Wally halfheartedly jabbed back, poking at the fact that Dick hadn't hit his real growth spurt until he was in college. He'd expected the conversation to go a lot less smoothly than this. They'd barely spoken to each other for years, after all. Now, it was like Dick had never left his side.

Except, you know, the fact that he was talking to Dick on his cell phone, and Dick was in Bludhaven or Gotham or who-knows-where. Not his problem right now. The problem was the 15 year old speedster crashed on his couch.

"Wally?"

"Yep?"

Dick paused. "What's your plan? For Bart?"

Wally shrugged, even though no one could see him. "I don't know. Make sure he doesn't commit suicide. Dick, I don't think I've ever felt so this way in my life. I mean, I've seen people with screwed up lives. But…I've never completely caused one of them."

Dick didn't reassure him. Didn't try to tell him things were okay, he did his best. Dick said nothing.

"What am I going to tell him when he wakes up?" Wally asked. "He obviously remembers."

"He probably thinks everything that happened was his fault," Dick responded. "You have to convince him otherwise."

"It's not his fault."

"I know," Dick said. "Trust me, I know."

Wally waited for a few seconds. "So, how's Tim?"

"Sleeping," Dick answered. "He's had a tough time, too. We're going to adopt him right away."

Wally blinked. "Wayne adoption?"

"After all he's done for us, it's the least we can do. Yeah."

He could see the jokes coming from a mile away. A little sarcasm ,a Do we really want him to turn out like you? I don't think the world can handle any more Dick Graysons. They were on the tip of his tongue, really. Dick had practically set himself up.

He wasn't in the mood.

"That's good," he said. "Tim deserves the best."

Dick seemed surprised by the answer. "Um-yeah. Yeah, we thought so to." A pause. "Look, Wally are you sure everything's okay? Do you want me to come over?"

"No," he answered firmly.

"Alright, not me. I could send somebody else-"

"I need to apologize to Bart first. I need to make sure he's alright."

"He's not yours, Wally."

Wally glared moodily at the wall. "He should have been."

"What?"

"He should have been," Wally repeated. "I mean, who else is there? Really?"

"Wally, you were going through school when he showed up. Now you've got your M.D, but you're still going through training and registration and crap, right?"

"I'm the Flash."

"You're only human."

"I'm the Flash," Wally repeated. "And taking care of wayward speedsters in one of my responsibilities, and I screwed it up, Dick."

"Is Tim okay?"

Wally jumped to his feet and rushed over to where Bart was blinking awake. His eyes were red and bloodshot, and his voice was rough. "Yeah," Wally answered. "Tim's fine. He's at home, resting."

Bart nodded, "That's good." He closed his eyes and nestled his head back into the pillow Wally had supplied.

Wally absentmindedly fixed the blanket as well, and brushed the hair out of Bart's face. "Your other friends are alright too. I think you were the only one with serious injuries this time round."

Bart's eyes snapped open. He brushed Wally's hand away and sat up. "Well?" he asked impatiently. "Aren't you going to ask if its me or not?"

Wally retracted his hands. "Fine. Is that you, Bart?"

Bart glanced down at the floor. "Yes," he answered, shifting so that he was sitting cross-legged on the couch. "Yes, it's me. Klarion's back in the helmet with Doctor Fate. He traded places with Mr. Nelson."

"Oh," Wally said. "I was wondering." He sat down in some of the space on the couch that Bart had vacated. "Look, Bart, I need to talk to you."

Bart put his elbows on his knees and folded his hands. "I'm a murderer."

"It's my fault that – what?"

"I killed people," Bart whispered. He clenched his eyes shut. Wally was afraid he would start crying again, but when the eyes opened again they were dry. He'd probably run out of tears.

"It's not your fault, Bart. You weren't in control of your actions."

"That's what drunk people try to say when they've run somebody over with their car," Bart countered. "They're still murderers. That they were drunk might make it worse."

"You weren't drunk, though," Wally said. "You weren't in control of not being in control of your actions.'

"That doesn't even make sense."

"And you're a minor," Wally added. "Minors-"

"But I was a hero," Bart interrupted, and that means I had more responsibility."

"Being a minor," Wally continued, "Means that it is not your responsibility."

Bart threw him a sharp look. "Yes, it is."

"No, it's not. Acting as Impulse-"

"Inertia-"

"You were a minor, and that means that you are my responsibility-"

"Wally, you've never wanted anything to do with me."

"And everything you may or may not be responsible for falls to me."

"Let's see how many times you can say responsibility in one sentence," Bart said mockingly. "It'll definitely help the situation."

"Bart-"

"No, no, no," he said, turning his head and raising his eyebrows at Wally. "It's my turn. When I first met you, the only thing I really wanted was to be your responsibility. I would have run miles – I would have walked miles at a snail's pace to hear those words that you just said. To be your responsibility. But you said 'No, Bart. You're too impulsive, Bart. I don't want a sidekick Bart, and if I did, it wouldn't be you. I don't want the responsibility, Bart."

"That's not what I-"

"But that's how it came out," Bart interrupted. "So I tried to shrug it off and I became Impulse. And I had Jay to help me learn what a hero was. I did my best, and later I had Tim, and Con, and then I had Young Justice, the covert ops team of the Justice League themselves. So I ran and I trained and I ignored the fact that nothing got your attention except when you were mad, and I ignored that the Justice League people kept commenting to each other about how I reminded them of you, and I ignored the fact that I had waited for years for you to say one kind word to me but you never showed up."

Bart shifted his gaze, away from Wally and back down to the floor again. "And for years I ignored that you could have shown up any time and offered to take me with you, and I would have dropped everything and said yes. But you never came, except to yell. So I ignored the fact that probably the closest link I would ever get to my Grandpa hated me, and I decided I didn't need you either."

"And now, after years of being the biggest jerk the Justice League has ever known, and you expect me to just forget the worst thing that's ever happened to me and let you take care of it? Do you think I'm stupid, Wally? When have you ever taken care of me before?"

Wally swallowed. "I haven't," he said softly, "And I'm sorry."

"Good," Bart scoffed, "You should be."

"But I want to change that."

"You can't change this past."

"I didn't know you felt that way!"

"Well, of course I did, Wally!" he screamed. "And you would have, too, if you ever just stopped to think about it!"

"Bart," Wally said. He leaned over and placed one hand on Bart's shoulder. "I don't want to lose you. I don't want to lose the closest link I have to Uncle Barry, either."

Bart closed his eyes, and an unreadable expression flashed across his face. "Too late," he said bitterly. Then he was gone.


Wally, paranoid jerk that he was, first rushed over to San Francisco to find the helmet to make sure Bart hadn't done something stupid like put it back on, but Bart hadn't been there, so he just picked up the helmet and signed something that allowed all bills to go to the Justice League (he'd almost signed Wally West, but honestly his signature was so bad they probably wouldn't even have been able to tell). His second stop was then the Watchtower, so he ran straight to DC to beam up from there to see if their sensors might have caught anything.

They hadn't. The only trail of superspeed had gone from Kansas to DC as well, so he logged off the monitor just in time to face a bunch of angry teammates looking for an explanation.

"Wally."

"Batman! Hey! Looking good. Just ran into Nightwing recently, you talked to him? He's also looking good. Oh, this? The Helmet of Fate? Yeah, I'm just here to return it. No, really, problem solved. Just ask Robin. Or maybe not. I also ran into him…"


"Hello?"

"Justice Solacetino?" Bart asked, cradling his cell phone. "I'd really like to talk to you."

"Who is this?" the woman asked. "How did you get this number?" From his position sitting at the kitchen table, he could hear the front door being unlocked.

"You did a favor for a friend of mine, once," Bart explained, heart pumping quicker than usual. He hadn't really thought this through, really, and in light of recent events, this probably wasn't the best idea. "Wonder Girl? She highly recommends you."

The front door opened. The woman seemed a little more relaxed, now that he had a sort of explanation. "Oh. So you're one of her caped friends." He could hear her both through the phone and through the house.

"Um, yeah. Minus the cape. Capes aren't really good for running."

There was a scream, and the clicking of heels as she came running towards him. Sighing, Bart put the cell phone down on the table and was raising his hands in the air when the woman entered the kitchen, armed with a bottle of pepper spray. "Please," Bart said tiredly. "I'm not here to hurt you. I just need some advice."

The woman was holding her bottle as if it were a gun – of course, neither of them would affect him if he wanted to avoid it. "Drop the blanket," she ordered, referring to the blanket from Wally's place that he still had wrapped around him. "And how did you get in here?"

Bart did as she asked, even though he was cold in just a hospital gown. "I vibrated through the wall," he admitted. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, I'll knock next time," he said.

She took a good look at him – a scrawny teenager in a hospital gown sitting quietly in a kitchen chair – and lowered the pepper spray. "Yes," she agreed. "You should do that. You know who I am-"

"Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States Jadyn Solacetino," Bart supplied automatically, "Fifth female justice and second Hispanic…" he trailed off, shooting a sheepish look at the judge. "Sorry."

"You've done your research," she surmised.

"Photographic memory," he said.

"Ah," she answered. "Who are you?"

Bart winced. "Um...if I promise I'm not evil, will you promise not to panic?" In response, she sent him a hard stare. "Alright, alright. I…I used to go by Impulse…"

She gasped in surprise, and he rambled on quickly before she would try to shoot him with pepper spray "-but I'm not Inertia Idon''thurtme?"

She paused, bottle of pepper spray half raised. "Don't hurt you?" she asked. Bart couldn't tell if there were sarcasm in her voice or not.

"I was possessed at the time," he repeated, slower. And then, in a rush again, "Flash said I wasn't in control of not being in control of my actions, but I don't really know what that means, and I can still remember everything that I did but I didn't want to but I still did it and now I need you to decided whether I'm guilty or not."

Unlike most of the people he dealt with, she seemed to understand him. Of course she would, she was a Supreme Court Justice and she was super smart, like Robin, except less distracted all the time. That was good. He should talk to smart people more often. "You want me to give you a verdict?" she asked calmly.

Bart nodded. "Yes, please. You see, I thought a lot about how to judge what's right and what's wrong, and obviously Ican't judge myself, and the Justice League is kind of self-appointed so they can't be it, either, I mean, they are good people, but what if they just happen to be good people? So anyways, I thought that Supreme Court Justices have been appointed by lots of people a lot of times, so obviously a bunch of people think that you can do the job, so…" he trailed off.

Supreme Justice Solacetino gave Bart a long look, sighed, muttered "I can't believe this," under her breath, and sat down in a chair opposite from Bart.

Bart perked up immediately, whisking his blanket off the floor and wrapping it around himself again. "Don't worry. I can be the defense and the prosecution at once if you want me to. I'm really fast."