Sorry for the delay. (
I was kind of on hiatus for a while, only because I've been really busy with a whole bunch of stuff. Plus relatives were over, and I'm getting my wisdom teeth removed.
Anyway, hopefully you're not too mad. Please notify me if you think I need to bump up the rating. I think it is okay right now, but, then again, I don't have very good judgment with these things.
Enjoy!
000000000000000000000
Chapter 3: FearsThere was a soft flap of wings and a dull tap of stockinged feet onto the tiled floor behind her. Diana looked out over the expanse of white, wintry frost, and the sun shone in its deceptive candor.
Shayera swept to her side, following Diana's line of sight.
The Watchtower had long since been dismantled, though a small, make-do satellite filled its place in the empty sky. Down on the surface, the streets of Metropolis were soft and silvery, dressed in the emerald of evergreens and glittering with Christmas lights.
"You're thinking about Wally?" Shayera tilted her head. Diana fluttered her lashes in irritation.
"Yes, I'm thinking about Wally. Who isn't?"
"Hm." Shayera chewed her lip, and her wings tucked themselves neatly behind her small back. Diana parted her lips to speak, paused and exhaled. Shayera canted her head. "What?"
"You… remember the Justice Lords?" Diana's tone was unreadable.
"Yes I do."
A taut silence hung between the two women, and they stared out, past the gates, onto the street where a hunched, liver-spotted old man had slipped on the ice. Diana raised her head, and her tone fell.
"Do you ever wonder if… maybe that will end up being our future?"
"Wally isn't dead yet." Shayera's reply had been almost immediate, and Diana's throat tightened.
"He isn't dead. But he isn't the same… none of us are the same."
She turned, and her back felt the chill vibrating off the glass.
"He's still Wally," Shayera stated quietly.
Diana made no reply. Her raven locks waved behind her; she floated down the corridor, and didn't look back.
222222222222222222222222
His pale green eyes darted across the lowered window, and a snowflake floated in, landing perfectly on the tip of his tongue. It melted. He loved the snow.
He was in a happier place than he had been before, though by no means had he totally recovered from the shock of the situation. He had accepted the fall, so it was not as surreal to him as it initially had been. But the fear had evaporated like ether… at least for the moment. Perhaps, it had been shoved temporarily to the side, like a book that was getting to depressing to read all in one go. But that's how he was. He would take a little bit at a time, until he had digested it all, and he would be complacent in its heavy, omnipresent manifestation.
Though it was not as if the anger was not there. It was merely hidden, stuffed further down, somewhere, until it bubbled out at some other time, when it was too hot to keep inside. Or maybe it would just melt away, as most things did, with time. He wasn't certain, because all that was guaranteed to him was the present.
For now, he wore his sweet, serene mask, the one he wore everyday, outside his bedroom, grinning until the muscles in his cheeks hurt. But, then, that was him, wasn't it?
Maybe there had been an inkling of truth, though less so than sympathy, to what Ollie had told him, before he had left with his mountain of gifts and cards. That the others in the League relied on him for support and hope. That it was because he pulled himself up, with a smile, every time he was knocked down, regardless of how moronic or insignificant he felt, that the others had the strength and motivation to get up themselves. He had been a symbol, in a bizarre, childish way. Even Clark had said so, though things had been a little awkward between them after the whole 'touchy-feely-hug' session. So he supposed they owed it to him, and that he was probably more deserving of the two-hundred dollar mp3 player and the seven-hundred dollar bottle of chardonnay than he had initially thought. And, yeah… he had saved the universe… again… right?
He wore the mask for them. Maybe a little for himself. And, maybe, for the eyes that drew him in and begged for him to live the way he always had.
He looked across the space. Bruce flipped the crinkling page of newspaper, scanning the text indifferently with his dark, ferocious eyes.
The idea of being taken in by the Bat-family, even temporarily, was slightly creepy.
No, actually, it was very creepy.
He had been to Wayne Manor tons of times before, but this was something else altogether.
But the fact that Bruce had even volunteered to take him in had startled him slightly, though it struck him that he might of felt obliged to do something about his son's best childhood friend. Or maybe he actually cared. He had seen a surprising amount of emotion upon the relaying of his temporary resignation, and he had to bite his lip in order to keep himself from tearing up again. Not that he was touched that they had been crying for him, or anything; it was more the guilt of cursing them secretly for thinking they saw him as an immature little prick… or something like that.
He supposed the Bat-family weren't all that bad, once you got used to the broodiness… and the slightly unnerving obsessive insanity. Though he supposed insanity had always been relative. After all, less than two days ago, he had, himself, been prancing around in red spandex…right?
"Bruce?"
"Yes, Wally?"
Wally looked beyond him, to a barren, passing tree, elegant and silvery in the waning light.
"Thanks."
The limousine turned the intersection, and Bruce looked up at him, sober, smart and grim.
"You don't need to thank me. You've done enough for the League to deserve our concern." Wally grinned, and Bruce couldn't help but manage a half-smile back. "To be honest with you, the rest of us got into quite the argument over who would host you. I think Clark was looking forward to you staying with his folks in Smallville, but I thought that you might feel more at home at Wayne Manor, considering you slept over so much when you were younger."
"I'm touched," he grinned, suddenly alarmingly aware that he had always been one of 'Bruce's little boys'.
He lowered the window further, and two more snowflakes floated in. He smiled childishly, forgetting his previous thoughts, and leaned forward, waiting for them to land on his nose. His eyes were lucid, and, for a moment, Bruce was drawn in by their astonishing depth.
When Wally smiled, he smiled with his eyes.
The limousine turned into the driveway and the engine groaned to sleep. Bruce tilted his head as the door slid open and the old man peered through its entrance.
"We're home, Master Bruce, Master Wallace."
Wally stifled a giggle, and he was met with Alfred's nonchalant stare.
"Ah… I'm sorry, Alfred. It's just funny when you call me that."
The corners of Alfred's withered lips seemed to twitch, and leaned back, giving Bruce space to step out. The doors of gargantuan mansion creaked apart, and a swarthy, familiar face poked out.
Bruce lay a hand on the roof of the car and looked in.
"I had to practically drag them back here for you. I know you like Alfred, but I wasn't sure how much you'd appreciate his company day-in and day-out."
Wally arched an eyebrow as Dick came skidding by on the ice, adequately dressed in a pair of grey jeans a loose, black tee-shirt. He grabbed the car for support, his face beaming. Tim sauntered drowsily behind, shivering in the wake of a frosty new breeze.
"Hey, bud!" His untied hair fell around his face as he reached in for Wally's hand. Wally grinned, slapping it as hard and quick as he possibly could, hoping that it wouldn't break his wrist. "Ow!"
Tim smirked.
"He's still quick, huh?"
Bruce Bat-glared and Tim fell silent, then backed up at the sudden thrust of a folded wheelchair into his face. He slipped into the snow.
"Ssssssss……owwwwwww," he hissed, rubbing his back tenderly.
Bruce grimaced and folded the chair out as Dick helped Wally onto the seat, grinning sympathetically.
"Wow, I feel… like a princess."
To this, Dick snorted.
"Come on in, Princess Wally."
"Actually, I prefer Princess Wallacynthia, but I guess Wally will do."
He pouted as they rolled up the ramp. Alfred stepped forward, pushing apart the doors with his quivering, aged arms. They rolled through, into the vestibule.
Wally's eyes darted in careless scrutiny.
"Wow, this place has changed.
"We installed an elevator for you, to make it easier for you to get around."
Wally looked up at the bulky, mechanical monstrosity locked self-righteously by the stairs.
"Geez, guys. I don't know what to say. Seriously." His face had painted itself a flushed pink, beneath the light pattern of his freckles. "I mean… you guys didn't need to spend on me or anything."
"Yeah, well, we don't want to keep carrying you up and down all day."
Alfred collected Wally's coat and scarf and, muttering something about the carpet, strolled into the adjacent room. Tim shivered and gulped noisily.
"I'm going to my room," he muttered darkly.
Wally blinked as he watched the adolescent disappear down the labyrinth of doors.
"Wow, he's very… Bats-like."
Bruce and Dick simultaneously raised eyebrows, and Dick wheeled him further in. Wally pouted, musingly observant. Bruce shrugged behind them, still in the doorway.
"Hm. I'm sorry, I won't be joining you for dinner. I have to conference to attend. But make yourself at home. I'm sure that won't be too hard."
Wally tilted back his head.
"Have fun!"
Bruce managed a small, abstemious smile and followed Alfred, still clad in his chauffer attire, out the doors, closing them quietly behind him.
Dick wheeled him into the kitchen.
"Alright! At least I remember where this is."
"We stocked up the fridge. Really. Like, grocery-store type stock-up."
"Sweet." He paused, suddenly pale.
"What?"
"Nothing…I…nothing." He licked and pursed his lips. "I… don't know if any of this is really necessary."
"Sure it is." Dick squeezed Wally's tight shoulder. "Dude, we want you to feel comfortable."
"I know."
"Then? Is there something else you want?"
"No… I don't want anything."
Dick pulled up a chair and sat before him, his eyes boring uncomfortably into Wally's smooth forehead.
"We want you to heal. To be alright with this. That's why I'm here."
Wally looked slightly away, his fingers tightening around the rubber and steely rims.
"I'm alright. I… got over it."
Dick raised a disbelieving eyebrow, though, otherwise, his face was eerily vacant.
"That was quick."
"Yeah," Wally mumbled weakly. He scratched the back his hand against the stubble above his nape. Dick's face contorted slightly, and he let out his reply in a painfully long exhalation.
There was a full thud of wood behind them, and it echoed until they turned back to look. Tim hopped up and down behind the counter, nursing his foot in a peculiarly flexible way that seemed to remind Wally of a miniature, brunette Ralph.
"Fuck!" He looked up. "I mean… poop!"
Wally eyed him suspiciously.
"Is he always like that?"
"Alfred and I are trying to teach him not to swear so much."
Wally snorted.
"Whatever. Fucking hypocrite."
"Geez, Wall!"
"Fine, fine- Timmy?" He arched his neck back. "Don't say bad words, or think bad thoughts, or do drugs, or drink, because you're underage, or have sex, especially not with Bart, 'cuz then I'll rip your balls of… or look at porn and/or jerkoff in the bathroom, or any such place, because God will hate you and then you will die!" He looked away from Tim, who now appeared slightly distraught. "How was that?"
Dick shook his head, chuckling, watching Tim stare and slink back to whence he came.
"My God, it's great to see you again."
"Ditto, I guess. How's stuff at Blüdhaven …and elsewhere?"
"Good, I suppose. At least at Blüdhaven. I check on the Titans every so often. You know Cadmus actually had the gall to offer Konnie(1) a job as a field agent?"
"He said 'no', right?"
"What else would he say? He's pissed off enough about the whole 'being a Cadmus-baby' thing as it is. We're still counseling him about it. I mean, he tried to kill himself, y'know?"
"Ech. Not cool. How's Bart(2) doing?"
"Okay. He's dealing with his disability pretty well. Spends a lot of time at the library, funnily enough. I think you got over yours faster, though."
"The learning disability or the ADD?"
"Mmm… both."
Wally paused.
"Does he know?"
"Tim may have told him. Not sure."
"I don't want him to know."
"You'll have to tell him eventually."
"I just… not yet."
"It can't hurt him any more than it hurts you," Dick stated quietly. Wally fell into muteness, and traumatism surfaced fleetingly in his limpid green eyes. "You're sure you're okay?"
"Yeah."
"Sure?"
"Yeah." There was no hesitation as the word escaped his parted lips. Dick looked down at the floor.
"You're crazy," he said quietly, scratching the back of his neck and scanning the ground for imaginary crumbs. Wally blinked and fidgeted. "Back… then. Every time you fell down, somehow you'd manage to pick yourself up. I didn't know how to did that. A lot of people don't." He paused. "I… used to think that nothing could get you down. That you were invincible. Of course, Barry was something else, but still." He pursed his lips and his eyes were unreadable. Wally joined him in staring at the floor.
Tim's swearword echoed across the hall.
"Are you done?"
"Yeah, I'm done."
Wally continued to stare, now at his feet, which were dangling awkwardly beneath the seat.
"Have I let you down?"
Dick's face broke into a warm, brotherly smile, something so uncharacteristic that Wally almost backed away.
"Naw. You're freaking Superman to me now. I mean, look at you- you're still so… so 'Wally', y'know? It's amazing." He looked out, through the large French windows and into the sugared garden. "Though I don't you could, even if you tried."
Wally shot him a wry grin and swiveled towards the fridge.
333333333333333333333333
"Mmm. That was good. My stomach hurts."
Wally wheeled forward across the salted sidewalk, his scarf bound tightly around his nape. Tim smirked, shoving his gloved hands into the depths of his fashionably tattered jean pockets.
"I told you that chili pepper looked dangerous."
"I know! That's why I ate it!" He swiveled. "Man, I love Indian food."
Dick's face twitched mildly.
"Spice gives me ulcers. That's why I stick to the rice."
"See, it's the onions that kill me." Tim sniffed and tilted his head back, cocking his ears as a surly old man brushed his shoulders. Dick pursed his lips and observed.
"Tim?"
"Look. Up."
Dick tipped back his head, and Wally squinted into the polluted glow of the skyline.
"Shit." Tim remained still, tight-lipped and rigid. Wally's breath misted and swirled into the fug as it escaped his lips. Up on a building, a twisted silhouetted figure raised his arm, a long, cylindrical object quivering in his clenched, waved hand.
"What'd you guys think- prison break?" Wally looked up and his eyes were light and amused against his hued skin. "Breach at Arkham, maybe?"
"We don't have time to think."
There was a rising, shrill cry of hysterical laughter, and the cylindrical object, black against the lurid sky, exploded into the ether. The crowd began to confuse, ebbing with terror and panic. A sable mist began to rise from the pavement.
"Oh, God. I know what this…this-uhuh..huhuhahahahha-hahahahahh-HAH-AHAHAh-AHhaHAaaa-" Wally thrust his face into his hands and began to choke on his short, repressed bursts of frenzied laughter. Tim sniffed and began to tear as he stifled a giggle. Dick clenched his jaw.
"Here!" He pressed a mask to Tim's reddening face, then one to his own. "Wally, I don't have one for you. Find somewhere safe around this area and stay here."
"Pmghch-" he snorted. "Oh-Okay-y." His voice cracked and he held his gut as he broke out into full-blown laughter, pressing his forehead evenly against his knees. Dick winced, slightly startled.
"I mean it. Don't go anywhere."
"Oh-ok-kay- I-I won't." He wheezed and rubbed his tear-stained face.
Dick grabbed Tim by the wrist and they fled into the alarmed, swarming throng. Wally pulled his scarf over his sharp, angular nose and his eyes danced across the scene for a spot of safety, trying to breathe between the fits of laughter that seized him as he wheeled forward. People in the crowd were beginning to fall the ground, clutching their abdomens and writhing in the snow, gasping for breath amidst their hysteria.
He giggled and slitted his eyes, darting in behind the restaurant and wheeling down the alley, away from the spreading fingers of the gas. Veering around the corner he pushed out onto the new street. Road salt stung his fingers and crumbled off the wheels.
He knew his way around Gotham well enough. He didn't want to be caught in the panic. Not with wheels.
And Dick, too often, lost sleep unnecessarily.
'Stay right here'. Shyeah, right.
He wheeled down the empty street, and the envious futility began to cloud his mind.
Dammit. If only he could help.
It was only a matter of time before his body registered the failure. His metabolism would slow. His body would change. The Speedforce would desert him.
But his fingers still gripped and pushed the tires with his usual quickness. It had to count for something.
"Hey!"
He canted his head, and the skyscraper tops of the chaotic downtown were dissolved in the low contrast of the glowing smog. He looked forward, squinting up at the sign over the mutilated building.
Pharmacy.
Okayyy. Looting a pharmacy? Man, that was just sad. Though he supposed that there was time when medication was cheaper.
Two cloaked men in straw hats materialized from the shadows, an uzi poking out neatly from each of the long, tattered sleeves.
Wally paled, thought it was indistinguishable in the intensity of the fluctuating streetlights.
"Hey, I'm gonna call the cops… or Batman!" He winced, ashamed by his 'cop' threat, and slightly more disgusted at himself for resorting to threatening them with 'Batman'. "Yeah that's right, bitches!"
The cloaked henchmen hunched forward, when a gnarled, gaunt figure emerged between them on the dais, chuckling menacingly beneath the straw that dressed his face.
Wally blanched.
Oh. Shit.
"Come a little closer. I won't hurt you." Wally leaned back in his chair, started to roll back and away. Scarecrow flipped down from the platform. "Going to call Batman, are we?" He drew up to full height, his skeletal figure trembling with hungry glee. "I don't think you would do that."
"Are you so sure?" Wally clenched his jaw. Scarecrow chuckled in wicked amusement.
"Do you have a phone?"
Wally's groped his jacket pocket for his cell, intimidated and confused. Scarecrow suddenly darted forward, grabbing him by the hair and forcing his head back. Wally spluttered, his pupils growing small and afraid. Scarecrow exhaled and the acidic mist curled around his pale face as a gloved hand ran across his nape. He threw back his head and laughed, pushing his palm in against Wally's throat. Wally gasped and fell from his chair, his knees dragging against the ground and dampening in the snow as Scarecrow hauled him forward and up the stairs, through the shattered double-doors of the entrance.
His weak body slid against the floor, across the shattered glass and into the pile of drug bottles. He wheezed and attempted to crawl out, convulsing feebly at Scarecrow's narrow feet.
Cutting, tapered fingers grabbed at his vocal chords. He choked and was raised off the floor, his face at level with the contorted mask.
"Think Batman's going to hear you scream?" Scarecrow breathed through his teeth.
"Yeah, and he's …going to shove a batarang… up your scrawny… straw-covered…ass." They were forced whispers through his tightening throat. Scarecrow hissed and raised his fist. Wally shut his eyes tightly, bracing as the gas hit him in the face with full force. He yelped and went limp as Scarecrow let him drop, kneeling beside his still body, and running a hand through his damp, auburn hair.
"My, my, my dear little cripple. What a pretty face you have." He pulled Wally even closer and leaned in, his mask almost brushing the man's terrified, young face. "And your eyes, they are simply stunning, so pale and clear… and easy to read." He ran a gloved finger down Wally's freckled nose, then up his cheekbone and behind his ear, chuckling delightedly at the sudden dilation of Wally's pupils. "I wonder what you're seeing?" His fingers began to probe the man's acquiescent body. Wally whimpered and shuddered violently, and Scarecrow burst into an abrupt laughter. "I bet he thinks there are tarantulas crawling over him. He looks that type. Afraid of insects. They all are. Stupid. Animals." He receded and looked back to the shrouded henchmen, who shifted uncomfortably in their corners. "Kill him." He stood up and paused. "Then again, I don't suppose any of you have had a good fuck since you've gotten out. Do what you like. But make sure he's dead by the time I get back."
Wally shivered on the floor, his eyes wide and unresponsive, his mind chanting wrongness. A guard brushed past and kneeled by the twitching body. A long, polished handle slipped out from beneath his cloak, his fingers twisted in their grip. He pulled up Wally's pale chin and pressed the barrel to his temple. His teeth were white and gleaming behind his hood.
Wally jerked, and the guard's finger began to tighten on the trigger.
Almost immediately, the guard began to scream. The gun clanged to the floor and Wally began to crawl across the tiled, bottle-littered expanse, shuddering and gasping. The remaining guards leapt forward, spraying the horizon with a storm of bullets. One dashed to the side, sprinting for the exit.
Wally sobbed in giddy disorientation, his body feverish and aching. He pulled himself forward and reached out to the closed back door, pressing his palm into its smooth, metallic surface.
Demons, demons, demons chasing him. He wanted to stay alive. He needed to stay alive.
His fingers curled into the metal and the steel started to dissipate as the tips of his fingers sent ripples through the melting sheet. It ripped into a large hole, and Wally could see the snow-caked pavement.
He dragged himself through and tumbled into the snow. A hooded, scarfed man by a lamppost gasped and turned as a shivering Wally pulled himself away from him, whispering senselessly.
"Sir, are you okay? Do you-"
The man choked in mid-question, falling limply to the side as the blood sprayed, dark and thick, onto the snow. The guard shot into the air grabbed Wally by the shoulders and threw him to his back. Wally spluttered and the barrel was forced between his lips.
Click.
Wally's vision began to falter, when suddenly the gun dropped, and the guard reeled back, screaming almost as senselessly as Wally had in his own mind when had felt the fingers touching his skin. He saw the heat rising and distorting, and felt the snow melt beneath him. The guard continued to scream, running dizzily down the alley in his panic.
Wally panted, and his breath was misty as it hit the cold air.
A dizzy, distant voice called out.
"Wally? Is that you? Wall?"
It manifested, hovering over him, dark and shifting, with venom seeping from its eyes. It opened its mouth and there was nothing but vacancy. He screamed, and his voice cracked against the sky. It was snowing, and the cold burned his damp, blood-sprayed face.
The world was swirling colour, light and sound, and, almost suddenly, it had gone the most delicious shade of black Wally had ever seen.
0000000000000000000000
For those of you who are not familiar with the comics, it's time for blurbage.
Konnie, a.k.a Kon-El: Basically a partial clone of Clark and Lex (by Cadmus- who else would do something stupid like that?). He was artificially aged, and had a whole bunch of information inputted into his brain. He escaped Cadmus and was found by Clark, who took him to the Fortress of Solitude and christened him Kon-El. He is somewhat telekinetic and can mimic all of Superman's abilities, including x-ray and heat vision, and is currently a part of the New Titans under the name of Superboy.
Bart Allen: Barry Allen's grandson and Wally's cousin (somehow?) from the future. He was also artificially aged, but never gained the maturity to cope with the real-world. He, like his grandfather and cousin, possesses super-speed, and can think and react as fast as he runs. Initially , he called himself Impulse, but he has now donned Wally's old suit and has taken the title of Kid Flash II, though he and Wally basically hate each other.
Well, I hope the chapter had been worth the wait. I promise to update sooner. Till next time…
