Disclaimer: Whoa…déjà vu…
Summery: After 'Divided we fall.' Wally struggles with his near death experience and searches for proof that he's really alive, and finds it in all the wrong places, and all the right ones. Part one of my 'Surviving the Lightning' series, witch centers around Wally.
A.N: Your feedback is very much appreciated, so please review.
"And you bleed just to know you're alive…"
- Goo Goo Dolls.
The garnish glow of pink neon spilled across the dirty snow and shimmered on pools of rotten filth and puddles of Ice. In a nearby ally, just beyond the wicked lights reach, four men congregated, severely beating a fifth. Those who passed by the off shoot did nothing to stop it; things like this where common place in the seedier back alleys of this city, some here where beyond caring, and those that did wish to intervene where to scared to do so.
The young man who was currently being pulverized was one of those who didn't care; he had allowed himself to get into this position. He relished the pain, not because he liked being hurt, but because it assured him that he was, indeed, alive; he'd begun to fear that he was dead, and that the afterlife was just like the one before.
His name was Wally West, also known as the costumed hero, The Flash, but right now he was just another nameless victim, and though he disliked the idea of being helpless, he couldn't bring himself to fight back against his tormentors. It had been only earlier today that Superman had tried to disband the League, only two days since his brush with the speed force, and in all those endless minutes he had felt nothing but a distant throbbing anger at his so called friends for 'saving' him from the speed force, and an endless void he couldn't fill. Somewhere in all that time that stretched forever the thought that maybe he was stuck between the real world and the speed force had entered his fuzzy mind. The notion that he was really dead and hadn't made it back completely had stuck in his head.
Nearly crazy he'd gone running as Wally and had found himself speeding along at super speed, looking for proof he was alive and not almost very nearly dead and part of the force. He'd found something like proof in the first painful blows, but the sensation was slowly fading, along with his hope and his vision.
But it didn't really matter how he got there, all that mattered was that he was here and if he wasn't already dead he would be soon, and that he couldn't bring himself to care. A small, empty smile swept itself onto his lips as he distantly registered that there little group had been joined by a sixth man, and that the fists had stopped. Without the blows to his stomach to hold him up he fell, unresisting, to the ground; his hands lying in the filth of the place he was sure would be his grave. From this angle the other men looked like sepia toned giants vividly outlined in pink.
Though a haze he saw four shapes fall to the floor, and the fifth turned to face him, kneeling to look him in the eyes. Wally had a vague impression of long black hair and a kind of familiar face from long ago, coved with a mask. From a long way off a deep voice called his name, but the dark consumed him before he could think where he'd heard it before.
Nightwing hesitated for only a second after his friend lost consciousness, deciding the best course of action, then dug through the other man's pockets for his Justice League communicator, praying silently that the fool had brought it with him and it hadn't been damaged. An inaudible sigh of relief left his lips as his search produced the desired object; quickly he contacted the League, knowing that Wally needed help soon.
"Watchtower, is that you Flash?" A monotone voice on the other end responded to the call. Dick quickly shoved any nervousness aside and spoke into the communicator as if he did it every day.
"This is Nightwing, in Bludhaven; Flash has been hurt, and needs medical attention. He's not wearing his mask." It took a second for the voice on the other end to speak again.
"Where transporting you up to the Watchtower, you can give us the full story once you get here." A moment later white light surrounded the two heroes, and they disappeared. They reappeared seconds later in a round silvery room, and where greeted by the other original founding members, one of witch was holding a small mask in his black gloved hand and scowling more than usual at the sight of the younger men. Nightwing quickly returned the scowl, with interest.
Batman attached the mask to Wally's face as Green Lantern created a stretcher beneath him with his ring. With utmost care Lantern levitated the battered form of there friend into the air and floated him toward the med-bay, the others, save Batman, following behind, worried looks on there faces, even J'onn's.
Dick made to move past his former friend and mentor but the dark knight caught him by the elbow and pulled him to a stop.
"What happened?" Batman asked in that all too familiar cold tone, the one that to most people sounded emotionless. But the former Robin knew the man before him to well to be fooled; he easily detected the concern in the older man's tone. That anxiety for Wally's welfare was the only thing that kept Nightwing from decking Bruce for touching him, but it was a close thing. His adopted father seemed to realize this, because he let him go. But it was obvious by the way he stood that he still wanted an answer, but Nightwing was more concerned for his friend than satisfying the curiosity of a playboy billionaire with a messiah complex.
"Later," He said, his voice as cold as the other man's. "I want to see how he's doing first."
For a moment Batman seemed to struggle with his own need to check up on Flash, and his obsessive need to know everything. Finally he nodded, whirled away from the younger hero and stalking off towards the door the others had exited a minute earlier, leaving Nightwing with no choice but to follow.
A few minutes later they reached a kind of waiting room, on one side of witch was a cold metal door that Nightwing assumed led to the med-bay; the other side was taken up by a breathtaking vista of the Earth, courtesy of a large viewing window. Chairs and little tables, strewn with magazines, where scattered across the open space in between, except for where a hallway branched from the room, directly across from the door. Richard took all of this in with a glance, and then turned his attention to the occupants of the room, the original Justice League.
They stood from there chairs and moved to stand around him, obviously about to demand a summery of tonight's events.
"What happened?" The question that confirmed his thoughts came from a tall, curvaceous woman in a bathing suit type outfit. 'Wonder Woman', his mind supplied, remembering the file he had on her back in his apartment.
"How is he?" Was his only response to her question, and he could tell by the sight stiffening of her posture that she didn't like not getting answers. Superman's voice broke the somewhat tense silence.
"The medics haven't told us anything yet," the man of steel crossed his arms; trying, and failing, to intimidate the younger man. "Now will you answer Diana's question?"
"I came upon an assault scene taking place in a small ally, the victim was out numbered four to one, not that it would have made any difference if the odds had been better, because Flash was obviously not even attempting to defend himself. He passed out immediately after I'd neutralized his assailants and I called you." He carefully kept the fear and the anger from his voice; it wouldn't do for them to see him unsettled. Superman nodded and returned to his seat, J'onn, and Batman quickly joining him. The others, however, where not so quick to accept his word, but after a few more moments hesitation they, to, regained there seats, eyes fixed upon the door.
The man who counted himself as Wally's best friend sighed, his eyes also turning to the barren metal door.
"You had better be okay Wall, cuz' I'll kick your butt myself if your not." He whispered, so that only a certain boy scout could hear him. The last son of krypton smiled just slightly as the younger man took a seat to wait.
They remained that way, still and silent, for another ten minutes until a medic came out to tell then what the prognoses was.
A.N: I wrote this under the influence of cough syrup and a fever, so if you don't like it, please flame the fever, not me. However if you do like it, praise to me, not the illness. Either way, comments keep me happy. Sorry if it was short.