I was sitting on Barry's front porch, looking out onto Oaktree avenue. It was a quaint street name for a quaint neighborhood. Every house within a two-block radius had the kind of white picket, suburban-dream feel that made me feel more out of place than usual. I would have gone for a run, but then Barry would come and look for me. I didn't want to do that to him, not on Christmas. I couldn't stand being inside though and it was only partly because Joan kept trying to get me to finish off her disgusting broccoli casserole. I'd barely made it through Christmas lunch and had only just escaped during cleanup without anyone noticing that I was crying.

It sucked. I thought I'd used up all my tears a few days ago, on The Festival of Ages. I left the house in tears that day and went to my ship. I cried and forced myself to recite stories from the Golasid period until my voice was hoarse. Flash found me when I was running back to Central took me out for a burrito in Mexico. The sunlight helped me feel better and the food was good. I was able to calm down.

I figured that would be it, I'd had my holiday blues and I could make it through Christmas. So far though, I'd only made it through an hour of the Allen's holiday party.

Why, oh why, did I tell them I celebrate Christmas? I whined inwardly.

The front door opened and I kept looking straight ahead, wiping tears off my face. I heard footsteps on the porch. Not heavy enough to be Barry's or Jay's. So Joan.

The person sat down next to me and I saw red hair out of the corner or my eyes.

Not Joan. It was Iris, Barry's wife.

I turned my head away, embarrassed.

Great. I only met the woman an hour ago and now I'm crying on her porch. Way to go.

"It's freezing out here, I figured you'd want some cocoa."

A mug entered my field of vision and I took it.

"Thanks," I rasped, still not looking at her.

She hummed.

"Don't thank me, I'm using you as an excuse to escape for a minute," said Iris with a slight laugh.

"Why?" I asked, confused. I glanced at her for a minute before looking away quickly.

She seemed to be having a blast in there.

"Jay and Barry are talking shop," said Iris with a sigh.

"Shop?" I asked, confused.

"Hero stuff," said Iris. "I love them dearly, but I wish they could just relax and enjoy a holiday without debating what the first crime of the New Year will be."

I didn't quite know what she was complaining about, it sounded like a fascinating topic to me. I didn't argue though, instead I said:

"Well you're barking up the wrong tree if you're looking for holiday cheer." My tone was half grumpy, half apologetic.

"Perhaps," said the Iris, "but you know, Christmas seems more festive if you spend a little time with a Rudolph."

I turned and gave her a look.

"I've had that name for like, two months, and that's the thousandth pun I've heard."

"Why'd you chose it then?" asked Iris.

"I was told to pick a name. I decided on West because I was watching the news at the time I was told to pick. I chose Rudolph because the reindeer song was playing at a store," I said flatly. I wouldn't have answered at all but I wanted to clarify once and for all that I didn't pick West as a last name as some creepy retaliation against Barry.

"Not very creative are you?" asked Iris, with a mischievous smile.

"I figured it was some sort of test," I said awkwardly. "Like, they'd find some kind of hidden meaning in any name I picked, so I chose something random to throw them off."

I wasn't sure why I was telling her this, but something about her made her easy to talk to, kind of like Canary. Maybe that's what made her a good enough reporter to be on TV news.

Iris laughed.

"Well you definitely threw them off. Barry thought you'd figured out his secret identity. Of course, you discovered it not long afterwards. From what I hear you have a knack for finding things out."

I looked at her suspiciously, wondering if Barry had said anything to her about the super hearing.

"Guess that's something we have in common," she said playfully.

Doesn't seem like it…

Iris shivered.

"It is freezing out here, and you've been out here for over ten minutes. How do you stand it?" she asked, rubbing her arms.

I shrugged and sipped the cocoa she brought me.

Neither of us said anything for a couple minutes and I figured she'd go back inside, but suddenly she nudged me with her elbow.

"Barry said you told him what you got him for Christmas," she said, mischievous look back on her face. "He also said you got me something too; what is it?"

"A scarf," I said flatly.

Iris gasped.

"You mean to tell me that I'm sitting out here in the cold with no scarf when there's one waiting for me inside? Unacceptable. We need to go open presents now."

"Oh, you go ahead," I said uncomfortably, not quite ready to go in yet.

"Don't be ridiculous, Joan won't let anyone open presents until we are all there, and I'm cold, and I want my scarf."

She stood up and grabbed my wrist.

"Come on!" she urged cheerfully.

I sighed and followed her.

Iris marched into the house.

"Time to open presents, Wally got me a scarf and I wanna see it."

"Wally!" Barry complained. "You're not supposed to tell people what you got them for Christmas!"

"She asked," I said with a shrug.

"That doesn't mean—"
"I'm a reporter, Barry," said Iris with a smirk, "I always know things I shouldn't. Now hurry up. For the fastest man alive you sure do dawdle."

Barry pouted and I smiled for the first time that day because Barry looked funny when he sulked.

Next thing I knew everyone was gathered around the Christmas tree and I was handing Iris her present. Joan had helped me wrap it since the ones I'd wrapped myself looked terrible. It was done up neatly in purple paper with silver snowflakes. Iris commented appreciatively on this before tearing it open.

"Green!" said Iris gleefully. "It goes with my eyes, compliments my hair, and it'll look good with my coat! Did Joan help you pick it?"

"Uh, no. I picked it," I said, a little overwhelmed by the enthusiasm.

She's probably just trying to be nice, I thought to myself. I still felt uncomfortable though.

"A fashion savvy man," said Iris, impressed.

"We should catalogue him and put him in a museum," said Joan, glancing at Jay in his ugly Christmas sweater.

"Or you could just open your present," I said uncomfortably as I passed Joan hers.

"Oh!" said Joan, excited. "I think I'm the only one in this room who doesn't know what they're getting from you. This should be a treat."

It was one of the ones I'd wrapped, so it looked like a crumpled, square-ish, lump. Joan didn't seem to mind though.

"A photo album?" she asked once she'd removed the paper.

I shrugged.

"You were complaining that your other one was falling apart, so I thought—"

Joan swept me into a hug and kissed me on the cheek.

"Thank you, sweetheart."

A tight feeling formed in my chest. This was getting too personal, too much like past Christmases.

From the other side of the room I could hear Iris whisper to Barry.

"He's so cute."

I blushed but Joan paid no mind and shoved a box into my arms.

"Your turn!" She said happily.

"My turn?" I blinked.

"Oh, let me take a picture!"

"Yea, please don't," I said. The tight feeling grew more pronounced.

Don't freak out, it's just a present.

"But—"

Jay wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Hurry up and open it, kid. Joanie, come here, I want to give you yours."

Everyone followed Jay's cue, diverting attention away from me and diving into presents. The whole process went from ceremony to free-for-all. It was a very far cry from the organized family present opening complete with photos and the careful tearing of wrapping paper that my family used to engage in. The tension in my chest eased and I managed to get through present opening without having to excuse myself.

No one else made a fuss over my presents. Jay simply smiled at me and patted me on the back when he opened the new crescent wrench he already knew he was receiving. It wasn't super special, but it was better than the rusty one he had in the basement that didn't adjust the way it was supposed to.

I'd gotten an interesting mix of things. Jay's present was by far the best. He'd given me a book on experiments relating to chemical reactions and had book-marked the ones he had the chemicals for. I couldn't wait to try them.

Iris and Barry gave me a model car kit and a model airplane kit. I wasn't sure where that idea came from since I'd never expressed an interest model making and I wasn't really sure what to say except:

"Wow, this car is just like the one I hotwired in—"

I cut myself off when I realized what I was saying.

Joan and Jay weren't listening, thankfully, but Barry looked stern and Iris was raising an eyebrow curiously.

"—a dream I had…two years ago. Wild dream….Thanks for the models."

So obviously a lie, but I hoped Barry would take it as it was. No need to relive that stuff at Christmas, or any other time. It was just another rookie moment.

"You're welcome," he said after a minute, looking resigned. "Thanks for the mug."

Iris changed the subject by demanding he open her present to him and I unwrapped the last couple presents from the Garricks. Some sweaters, a black blanket decorated with bright blue chemical formulas, and…a telescope. I swallowed, grateful the present free-for-all distracted anyone from seeing the tears in my eyes as I looked at it.

Watching the stars with Mom and Dad…

I quickly piled my new sweaters on top of it so I wouldn't have to look at it.

"Do you like your presents?" asked Joan, coming over.

I quickly hugged her so she couldn't see my face.

"They're awesome! You gave me the coolest blanket ever," I said in a cheerful tone that didn't match my expression.

I accidentally caught Iris's eye and looked away quickly, ashamed that she'd seen the devastated look on my face. It was Christmas. I wasn't supposed to be sad. I didn't want to be sad. I didn't want to ruin Christmas for the adults.

"You know what would be perfect right now?" asked Iris.

Joan released me and I wiped my eyes quickly as everyone turned to look at her.

"Cookies and Cocoa! Wally, can you come help me, please?"

I nodded and quickly followed Iris from the room.

I felt relieved that I was being rescued from the situation, but also extremely uncomfortable with the fact that a total stranger was doing the rescuing.

"Why don't you put the cookies onto this tray while I make the cocoa," she said, passing me a Tupperware container and a large tray covered in little elves.

"Sure," I mumbled.

I placed the cookies, pausing now and then to rub tears off on my sleeve. I sniffed when I was finished and glanced around for a tissue.

"Here, honey," said Iris.

I turned around and she was looking at me and holding a paper towel.

"Sorry," I said, taking it and turning around while I blew my nose.

"Don't be sorry," said the woman kindly. "This might be awkward for me to say, since we only just met, but we all know this is a tough day for you. We've all been where you are at some point. We know it's hard, but you're trying and everyone appreciates that."

"That is awkward for you to say," I said tensely.

I really don't want to hear this right now.

"Occupational hazard of being a reporter," said Iris cheerfully, turning away and stirring the pot of cocoa. "Sometimes we say things that make people uncomfortable. Speaking off, did you see Cat Grant's interview with Lex Luthor?"

Subject change. Awesome.

"No, what happened?" I asked.

Iris began telling the story, pretending not to notice that I was still wiping tears off my face every minute or so.

Barry came in after a little bit.

"Hey, did you two need any—"

He looked at my face then back at his wife, who had three mugs of cocoa in one hand and a tray of cookies in the other.

"Could you try and see which drawer I put the candy canes in?" she asked, giving her husband one of those looks grown-ups traded.

"Sure," said Barry.

She left the room and Barry looked at me.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Perfect," I said sarcastically, opening a drawer to look for candy canes. Barry joined me.

"You know, maybe when the sun goes down we could check out your telescope."

He might as well have stuck a knife in my chest and twisted it.

My whole body rocked as a bark-like sob forced its way out of my chest.

"Kid," said Barry, coming over and putting a hand on my shoulder.

I jolted as a sick familiarity settled over me. At first I felt comfort, until I realized why it felt familiar.

A nickname, the hand on my shoulder, the tone of voice… It was just like my Dad used to do when I was upset. He would walk up to me and put a hand on my shoulder saying: "What's the matter, boyo?"

Now Barry was doing the same thing.

He was doing the same thing Dad did.

I—I hate this.

Who does he think he is? Is he trying to act like Dad? He doesn't have the right!

He—he put me in this situation in the first place!

He was the one who threw this party. He had to have known the Garricks would make me come and I wouldn't have the relief of hiding in my room when I felt like this. I wouldn't have had to listen to him suggest we watch the stars. And who suggests that anyway? He must have seen the star charts in my old hide out. He should have guessed that was me and Dad's thing. That IDIOT! This is all HIS fault!

I knocked his hand off my shoulder and glared at him. Another sob tried to come out of my mouth, but I turned it into a growl. A painful rage filled my chest and I grabbed hold of it. Anger was fine, I'd take anything over despair.

"I. Hate. You." I said through gritted teeth.

Barry looked like he'd just received a bad case of whiplash.

"Why?" He asked.

"Because you're stupid," I said.

"Why am I stupid?" asked Barry in the voice adults used when they were trying really hard to be patient.

That voice took my two last nerves and rubbed them together.

"You just are, and I hate you! So just leave me alone," I hissed, angrily wiping away more tears.

I would have shouted at him but the last thing I needed was Joan and Jay coming in the kitchen to see what was happening.

Barry bent his knees slightly and leaned forward to look me in the eye.

"Wally," he said in a come on, tell the truth, sort of tone. "All I did was ask if you wanted to look at the stars, why are you so upset?"

I clenched my fist and gritted my teeth.

"Because I hate you," I said again. There was nothing else I could say; there was too much rage in my head. I wouldn't even be this angry right now if he hadn't made me come here.

I'd been getting it together before he came in, I had…I had! And he comes in and sets me off again. So very typical. Stupid Barry. Stupid, stupid, stupid. So stupid that, since knowing him, the word stupid is the only word my head has room for anymore.

Bloody Pillock.

"Why do you hate me?" asked Barry steadily.

"Because I do," I growled. The conversation was going in circles, which made sense because I was dizzy with anger.

I'm gonna punch him in the face. I'm gonna punch him in the face. Punch him, again and again, hurt him.

My hands shook as I held myself back.

"I don't think you're mad because you hate me," said Barry. "I think you're mad because it's Christmas and you miss your parents."

More tears and, if I didn't have to pause to wipe them away, I really might have hit him.

He was too close, bending his knees a bit so he could be on my level, trying to look me in the eye.

"Get out of my face," I demanded. My voice was harsh, a demented twist of sadness and blind fury.

"Wally," said Barry firmly.

"I'll hurt you," I threatened.

Barry didn't move.

"Will you?"

Hit him, hurt him, punch him, do it, do it, do it!

I wanted to, so bad. But I could almost feel my Dad's hand on my shoulder again. He had drilled anger management into me as soon as I was old enough to understand what anger was. He didn't want me to become like him, he never wanted me to hurt people just because I felt like it.

I wanted to, I did. I knew I couldn't trust myself not to if I kept standing in front of Barry.

My hands found my hair and I pulled it in frustration, sliding down to the floor and tucking my knees to my chest. I bowed my head, hands still clamped in my hair as if the strands would bind my fingers and prevent them from striking Barry.

I felt the anger pulsing through me, like a second heartbeat. I took several slow breaths, imagining the look on my father's face that time I'd lost my temper when I was seven and punched another boy. The disappointment, the concern, the sadness, the frustration. He'd look at me that way if he were still alive today and I lashed out in temper, I knew it. This knowledge helped me reign myself in, until my fingers untangled themselves from my hair and fell limply to my sides.

"You know, most boys I know would have thrown the punch, had they been in your shoes," said Barry softly. "That took some real self-control."

I rolled my eyes, frustration still burning me.

"I'm a living weapon," I said, my voice dead. "If I'm not in control, people get hurt."

Barry looked down at me for a moment, before sitting on the floor across from me.

"That's why you hate crowds, right? You're afraid of losing control."

I glared at him.

"You only know that because J'onn damaged my mind," I said. "You're seriously bringing it up?"

"I'm sorry," said Barry.

"Whatever," I said rolling my eyes.

"Kid—"

I stood up again, shaking my head.

"I don't want to hear it. I just want to go back to the Garricks."

Barry sighed and stood up too.

"Okay," he said. "I'll go talk to Jay and—"

"No," I said firmly.

I've already let Iris and Barry see what a mess I am. I don't need to ruin Joan and Jay's holiday too…

The solution presented itself to me and I grimaced.

Ah crap.

"Why?" asked Barry.

I folded my arms, refusing to look at Barry.

"The Garricks live forty minutes away. If they left now they probably wouldn't come back and they're having fun here. Besides I need to be alone."

"You can't run there yourself, Wally. You don't have your gear," said Barry. "Your shoes aren't meant for running and the only identity concealment you have is your coat, which isn't made for running either."

"I know that," I said irritably.

Barry looked at me for a moment before asking, a little incredulously.

"Are you asking me to run you over there?"

"You're right, it's a stupid idea," I said, pride swelling up and drowning out the true answer to that question with sarcasm and irritation. "Forget it."

Barry actually closed his eyes. He looked like James's mom when she didn't have enough coffee.

"Wally," he said, his voice beginning to fill with frustration before he paused, calmed himself, and began to speak again.

"I want to help you. If you need something from me, ask."

My fingers dug into my forearms as I crossed my arms tighter. My face flushed with humiliation as I stared at the floor and addressed the man I was so furious at, and…asked him a favor.

"Will you please…take me back to the Garricks?" I asked, wishing I could sink through the floor. There were few things worse for the pride than asking someone you'd just declared your loathing for, for help.

"Yes," said Barry. "Hang on a minute.

He left the room and I cursed my luck.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

"Now call if you need anything."

"Sure," I drawled, rolling my eyes.

"And don't leave the house, it's dangerous to go out on your own when you're emotionally compromised."

"I know."

"And remember to—"

"Can it, Barry, you're not my mother!" I snapped. "Just go home and make sure the Garricks have a happy Christmas!"

It was so irritating. It'd taken him ten minutes to get out of his house and now he was hovering when he knew I just wanted to be left alone.

Barry looked at me sadly.

"Okay, kiddo," he said. He tried to put a hand on my shoulders but I glared at him and he withdrew his hand.

"Well," he said awkwardly. "Call if you—"

"I got it," I snapped, turning my back on him and marching upstairs.

I waited until he left before flopping onto my bed.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I sulked for a while before I went back downstairs.

I was so—agitated. I wanted to run but with my luck Barry had fixed the house alarms to let him know if I left. I growled and flopped on the couch. If I were in London right now I'd go find someone to beat up. Unfortunately that wasn't an option and I spent five minutes cursing those responsible.

Restlessly, I picked up the remote.

I tried to watch television but everything was "Christmas" this and "New Years" that. I flicked through the channels, picking some broccoli out of my teeth as I tried to find something that wasn't so bloody cheerful. I settled on the news, but even that was awful. It was all cutesy holiday stories.

Man, I almost wish—there were something going on. Some disaster I could help with, not that I should be wishing disasters upon the city but if there HAS to be a disaster I wish there could be one today so I could go out and DO something instead of feeling useless and angry and—I cut my thoughts off as words like sad, lonely, and miserable crossed my mind. That kind of thinking would only bring tears, and I'd had enough of those. I growled and looked back at the news. Now it was something about an adorable bunch of orphans having a multi-cultural celebration. I turned to the other news station at the word "orphan." Still nothing I wanted to see. I was just about to give up when urgent chimes cut across the cutesy report on some girl-scout troop.

"Breaking news in Central City. Turning it over to Cat Grant."

"Cat Grant reporting from the Central City University Campus. The campus events center was hosting the "Single Moms of Central" Christmas party when a bomber seized control of the building. He has over a hundred hostages. Though he has not yet made any demands, the bomber…"

Bomber.

I just learned to diffuse bombs.

Without hesitating I bolted upstairs and suited up. Nothing was on my mind except the civilians and he bomb.

Adrenaline rushed through me. I knew I could do this. I could totally diffuse the bombs.

I bolted out of the house, ignoring the fact that some sort of alarm had probably gone off. Barry said to call if anything happened right? The news was on so when he turned up at the house he'd figure out where I'd gone. I wasn't about to stand around and wait for him when there were innocents trapped in a building with a psycho.

My mind flew through the different kinds of bombs and how to diffuse each type as I ran.

I can do this, I can do this, I can do this!

I stopped on the roof of the building opposite the one mentioned on the news and tuned in my hearing.

Crying, lots of crying. Children's voices. Heartbeats. There were four floors, at least, going by the windows. They were on the third floor

"Shut up! Shut up all of you!" A male voice. Aggressive. Probably the bomber.

"Flash will stop you—" the sound of a child, speaking out defiantly only to have someone cover their mouth with their hand.

"Be quiet, Lisa," he heard a woman hiss.

"Flash?" the man laughed cruelly. "I've got every door and window to this building rigged, if he trips the sensors this whole place explodes!" He cackled manically.

I frowned and focused my hearing further. The man was loaded with gear. I could hear the hum of electricity, the clink as he moved. Guy was probably wired up with explosives on his body. Probably a suicide bomber then.

If that's true…he's blowing this place up no matter what. He's just trying to get his 15 minutes of fame first.

I cursed.

Now what?

I adjusted my goggles and used them to scan the roof. Messing with the filters, I was able to detect several sensors attached to the roof.

I cursed again.

I heard the sprint of Flash's steps and turned as he zipped up beside me.

"Go home," he said angrily. "I'll deal with you later."

"No. I can help."

"Kid, I don't have time for—"

"The hostages are on the third floor, lots of kids. The windows, doors, and roof have motion sensors on them. If you go near them, the building explodes. The guy's wearing an explosive vest too by the sound of it. I'm not sure how many bombs are inside the building. He's a suicide bomber by the sound of it, so we need to come up with a plan and fast."

Flash cursed too.

"Is there a basement?" he asked.

I listened carefully.

"There's a boiler room."

"And underneath that? Is there a sewer?"

"Sounds like it, yea."

Flash scooped me up in his arms and before I could ask him what he was doing I was underground inhaling the smell of sewer.

I vomited and the broccoli casserole from Christmas lunch was twice as vile the second time around. Flash ignored my discomfort and began to talk.

"Okay kid, which pipe leads me to the boiler room?"

I struggled with my gag reflex for a moment before focusing my hearing

"That one," I said pointing at a large pipe, fed by several smaller pipes. Flash ran up the wall and swung himself into the drain pipe. In an instant he vibrated himself through the wall. I listened and heard him land on the other side.

After a full minute my communicator went off.

"Kid," said Flash. "What's the bomber doing?"

I listened.

"Going on about how screwed up his life is."

"Okay, listen carefully. I'm going to blow a hole in this wall to create a passage between here and the sewer. You'll need to stand back so you don't get hit. The moment I've transferred enough energy to the wall I'm running up to the third floor to grab the bomber and take him out of here via the sewer. You need to come in behind me and go to the civilians. You can't let them run out in a panic and trigger the motion sensors on the doors. I deactivated a bomb down here, but I don't know if there are more."

"Got it," I said.

"Okay, find some cover and be ready."

I moved further down the sewer, bracing myself.

Without warning the explosion hit and I rocketed into superspeed. I ran up to the drain pipe, leaping up the wall. I felt Flash fly over my head, on his way out of the building. I ran in through the hole he'd made, the hole that was still crumbling. There was dust frozen in the air and I ran through it and up to the third floor, bursting into the ballroom that held the hostages.

"Everyone remain calm!" I shouted, snapping out of superspeed as I looked out into the room. Women and children were there, tear streaked, surrounded by half-ruined Christmas decorations.

"I work with Flash," I told the speechless civilians. "We need you to stay here, until we can disable the motion sensors on the doors."

There was silence, then a woman with brown hair spoke up angrily.

"Are you crazy?!" she yelled. "That psycho has this place rigged, we can't just stay here!"

"Ma'am," I protested.

"If Flash is here he probably diffused the bombs," said another woman.

"He needs time to—" I tried to say.

"I'm not staying here another moment—" A woman screeched. People were starting to move towards the doors.

"EVERYONE SHUT UP!" I bellowed.

The women looked at me, quiet, but it was clear by their faces that they didn't intend to listen to a word I had to say.

I sighed.

"Let me sweep the building for explosives. It won't take long. It's just to make sure it's safe to leave. I don't want to watch your kids die in an explosion."

The room got very still and tense.

"Well—go then! Sweep for bombs," snapped the dark haired woman in irritation.

I rolled my eyes and took off.

I took a top down approach, which was a good thing because in the room directly above the ballroom the civilians were in was…

Crap.

It was a bomb and it was rigged. The overabundance of C4 made my jaw drop.

I shook it off.

Okay, remember what Canary said…

It was a large bomb, and judging by the supplies around the room it had been built here and not carried in piece-by-piece, meaning it probably shouldn't be jarred or moved.

I looked at the timer.

30 seconds.

My hands worked of their own accord. I'd done this kind of bomb scenario so many times in my head when I was Christmas shopping.

Remove the cover. This kind of bomb…blue wire first, red wire, black wire, now gold…

The timer stopped with 25 seconds on the clock. I blinked as if coming out of a trance. Then reality caught up with me and I ran through the rest of the building. There was nothing. I ran back to report to the ladies only to find them all standing by the door, passing their kids off to a red flash that streaked back and forth.

The Flash dropped to a slower speed and I sped up to talk with him so the civilians couldn't hear.

"I swept for bombs. Only found one, disarmed it."

"I swept too, and I saw you disarm the bomb. You did a good job."

My eyes widened in amazement. No one ever managed to sneak up with me. Either Flash was going really fast or I was so immersed I hadn't noticed him.

"I'm going to test the entrance to make sure it isn't booby-trapped. If it's safe I'll come back, if not take everyone else out through the sewer entrance."

He zipped off and came back a moment later, dropping into standard time.

"Okay, everyone it's safe. Walk in an orderly fashion to the exits.

People ignored the word "Orderly" and stampeded. One woman tripped and I had to dart through the crowd and catch her so she wouldn't get trampled. Once she was steady she shoved me away and ran.

Once everyone was safely out Flash came up behind me.

"Come on," he said, tapping my shoulder and pointing to his back.

"I can run back myself," I snapped and Barry laughed.

"You think you're allowed to go in the house covered in sewage?"

I frowned.

"Come on," he repeated and I sighed and climbed onto his back.

We ran out of Central and traveled quite a ways until we came to a stop.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Star City," said Flash, tapping his earpiece.

"Flash to Green Arrow, come in.

"Flash?" Green Arrow sounded distracted. "What do you want? I'm busy."

"I need access to your Logan Street hideout at the East entrance. Me and one guest."

"You are NOT banging your wife in my hideout, Allen," said Arrow jokingly through the comm.

I turned bright red and Flash quickly covered my ears with his hands. I could still hear him loud and clear though.

"Arrow," he growled. "I have the kid with me. We just got out of the sewers and would like to borrow your decontamination room."

Arrow sighed. "Okay, okay, just a minute."

"So how's Christmas with the little brat?" Arrow chuckled. "He still giving you trouble? From what I've heard he's a bigger pain in the neck than even Batman expected."

My shoulders slumped as I pulled back my hearing away from the hurtful words.

"It was great," said Barry sounding uncomfortable, giving up on covering my ears. "Just a psycho bomber trying to kill some kids and their moms."

I stayed within normal hearing range so I didn't hear Green Arrow's reply.

"Yea…Merry Frickin' Christmas right? How are things on your end?"

The conversation went on for two minutes before we were finally granted access. We entered a small concrete room with a door on each side.

Flash turned his back to me.

"Go in that room and take everything off. Put weapons in the blue chute and clothing in the red."

I nodded and went into the room on the left. The room was small and there were showerheads all over the ceiling and walls, even the floor.

"Greetings," said a robotic voice. "Please remove all articles of clothing. Put fabrics into the red chute and everything else into the blue chute."

Trying not to feel creeped-out and a little violated I stripped down as instructed.

"Are you ready for decontamination?" asked the voice.

"Uh…yea?"

Suddenly jets of water assaulted me from all sides.

"AGH!" I yelped in suprise

"Please use the brush to lather in the soap."

"What brush?!"

"Brush is located on the shelf by the door."

I walked over to the shelves, still being attacked by jets of water, and grabbed the brush. I scrubbed at my skin as the chamber dumped soap onto my shoulders.

Close your eyes. Instructed the voice as a spray of soap shot up near my face. I barely avoided getting and eyeful of soap as the robotic voice told me to rinse and lather.

"Arg! Stop it!" I yelled and the chamber suddenly stopped spraying me with water and soap.

"Decontamination process is incomplete. Please state override code, otherwise say "continue."

"You can continue, but can you not—"

"Resuming decontamination process."

"Argh!"

By the time I stumbled out of the chamber, my skin was pink from the heat of the water and my eyes were pink from soap running into them. My butt was bruised from when I tripped and fell and my pride was wan banged up from when the system alerted Barry and his voice came over the comm, asking if I'd hit my head.

I was wrapped up in a standard hospital robe and pants when I grumpily exited the chamber. My hair was sticking up on all sides.

Barry was waiting on a couch in a large room full of exercise equipment, looking completely fine.

"That was awful," I groused.

"There's a few bugs to work out, but it gets the job done. You'll get used to it," said Barry. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," I grumbled, crossing my arms.

"Then have a seat."

I groaned and flopped down across from him on an armchair.

"Am I about to get a lecture about how I shouldn't be in the field? Because I helped you get into that building without anyone dying and I disarmed a bomb."

"It was a two person job," Flash acknowledged. "Which is why you should have called."

I rolled my eyes.

"I figured you'd have rigged the house alarms to let you know if I left, and I kept my tracker on. You had all the information you needed."

"What if I hadn't had set the alarms to alert me if you left?" challenged Flash.

I thought for a minute about my response.

"You don't trust me enough to not set the alarms," I said decisively.

"Because you do stuff like this!"

"Like what? Help you take down a bomber?" I asked, an angry laugh escaping me.

"You go looking for trouble! You had the news on television when I stopped by the house. You were just dying to find a case, weren't you?!"

"I was watching the news because there was nothing good on."

Barry looked like he was going to say something—well, judging by his face, shout something. Then an idea seemed to hit him and he closed his mouth and leaned back on his heels. He looked at me, eyebrows raised like he was expecting me to talk.

I met his gaze and glared at him but he just continued to stare at me.

The silence stretched, and stretched.

I broke eye contact, uncomfortable, and I stared at the ground, crossing my arms.

Still Barry said nothing.

I glanced back at him, confused.

Why isn't he yelling at me?

He still had that expression on his face and I found myself feeling more and more uncomfortable.

I looked down at my feet than up at him again.

He'd crossed his arms and was giving me a look that I interpreted as:

I can do this all day.

I stared back at the floor.

"Well—" I said defensively. "Maybe I wanted a case, so what? It's not like you couldn't find me, and it's not like I rushed in without you. I gathered a lot of intel and I disarmed a bomb."

My bottom lip began to stick out unconsciously and I tucked it back in as soon as I realized it. Men didn't pout.

Barry continued to stare at me and my shoulders slumped.

"I just wanted to think about something other than—the people I can't spend Christmas with anymore," I mumbled. "And no one died, so now those people don't have to spend Christmas feeling—" like me.

Barry, uncrossed his arms, walked over, and got down on my level like he did earlier. The wish to punch him crossed my mind again, but I kept it in line.

I wouldn't look at him, but he talked anyway.

"Next time, call me, directly, before you leave. That way I won't waste time going back to the Garrick's to find clues on where you've gone."

I frowned.

"Why not just follow the signal?" I asked, looking at my own crossed arms.

"Says the boy that supposedly left the TV on for me to see when I went to the house?" Barry scoffed. "Your signal was so still on that rooftop, I thought you'd ditched your tracers again."

"Oh," I said. I finally looked at him. "Well, unless I go to the ship there's no point in me ditching my tracers. I mean I already told you I'm not going to run away."

Barry gave me a look.

"So what you're telling me is, if I ever find you've ditched your tracers outside the house, and they aren't in that place near your ship, it's safe to assume you've been kidnapped?"

I shrugged.

"Sure. Like I said, I don't see why I'd need to take off the tracers."

Barry sighed.

"Right. Well, I'm holding you to that."

"Fine," I said, even though my "you fool, it's a trap" sense was going off.

"Good, and because you left the house even though I told you not to and entered a dangerous situation by yourself…"

If he grounds me I swear—

"…I'm assigning you some homework."

"What?" I asked, confused.

"You're going to learn about battle strategies for two man combat teams. We'll implement them next time you're in the field."

"Okay," I said, trying not to look excited.

In the field?! Did he seriously just say that?! Ha! What kind of punishment is reading about battle strategies anyways?

"And since your hacking needs work, I'll have Robin encrypt the files. You'll need to decrypt them to read them."

Oh. Crap.

"Merry Christmas," said Barry cheerfully, and evil smile stretching across his face.

I rolled my eyes.