Tempest: Chapter Seventy-Five: Avoidance

AN: Who loved that cliffhanger? XD And wow! We've almost hit 500 reviews on ffnet! That's amazing guys! And I've still got so many ideas for this fic before its completed :)

Merry Christmas!


Amara couldn't face Wally, not even with the funeral being in a few days for her Aunt Mary and Uncle Rudy. Mardon was the reason for the violent storms that wrecked through Central City, only dissipating when he'd vanished. The plane had had electrical damage when they'd gone through the wreckage; she'd hacked the report and it told her all that she needed to know.

Wally was alone now and her biological father was the cause of it all. How could Wally even bear to look at her? And Wally was her favorite, absolute favorite (only) cousin and one of her favorite people to be with. She didn't want to know what it felt like to be hated by him, so secluding herself seemed like the best option.

Classic avoidance, Dinah would call it, but Amara also didn't know what to say. She'd already cried herself dry over her aunt and uncle but she couldn't help the dead, she didn't know what to do for them. The living was a different story.

(Unless she found her father and electrocuted him in revenge, which was honestly preferable)

Amara pinched the bridge of her nose tiredly, her throat aching from trying to hold back the tears again, trying to focus on the task at hand.

She was in Cave 2.0 in the spacious basement that had been refurbished to essentially be the 'Oracle Cave', with several large screens pressed together to form a large one, giving her more space on the TempleofDelphi which was now up and running. She was operating under the name Pythia, and so far Cassandra and Sybil were the only 'Oracles' settled into the new format, but eventually Tiresias and Pasiphae would be making their way over without too much effort; they both had approved of the new format compared to BlackNet.

She'd been working extensively since finding out about Uncle Rudy and Aunt Mary, after crying enough to water any of the plants she had around her room in Gotham and in Central City, and right now that was the only thing from keeping her having a complete breakdown, but it was better to work than to stew in her feelings.

It was better to avoid Wally and work.

Amara was so very tired.

Amara wasn't the only person hurting after all, and Central City had been hit the worst. She was blaming that on Weather Wizard; his temper was disastrous and with his wand back he was twice as deadly.

There was a list, a long list of missing persons and then one for those that died on New Year's. Amara hated that there was even one person on a list, and she hated even more that there were two lists of varying lengths.

Oddly enough, the missing persons list seemed to be comprised almost exclusively of children, kids under the age of eighteen, which was strange, Amara had to admit. And there were some rather suspicious causes of death. Some were typical of a bridge collapse, there wasn't any denying that, but some were strange, like shrapnel that didn't make sense or crush injuries when they weren't near anything that could've crushed them.

Amara cupped her chin thoughtfully. It kind of felt like someone was cleaning house, but Amara couldn't be certain of who or why…but it had to be about those kids, because all those suspicious deaths were the parents of those kids…well, the ones that mattered, anyways.

Her phone buzzed and she picked it up quickly, ready to hit decline on Wally's name, but it wasn't his name splashed across the screen.

"Hello?" she answered cautiously before listening intently. "No, that's really great news…are you sure you want me there?...He did? Oh, well, I guess I could come by…no, it's fine, I'll be over in a few."

She'd have to leave soon anyways or Wally would try to corner her, she was sure of it; at least this time she had an excuse.


"Are you sure you should be moving around too much?" Diana's eyebrow was arched and she was attempting to pull off a severe expression, like the kind she saved for her villains, but her lips twitched too much to make it work.

Steve Trevor spared her smile, squeezing their linked hands. "I'm fine, the doctors want me to start moving around more," he assured her, "that and I've got physical therapy in a little bit."

Coming around after everything that Vandal Savage had done was difficult work. Steve had been drugged for months and at this point felt like he was wading through a dream because nothing quite felt real, or the way it should've, not even Diana. It was going to take work for things to get back to normal, but Steve was willing to work for it.

Diana pursed her lips, her eyes tracing over his form, looking for any trace of what he'd endured during captivity, but physically, there was nothing; mentally was something else entirely.

"So," Steve cleared his throat, "Storm Chaser, huh? What's she like?" He'd been there when SC had first started heroing with Black Canary, much to the chagrin of her father, Flash -which everyone involved with the League was painfully aware of-, and he was also there when SC had been shot off Queen Industries and had been forcefully retired from the League.

"She's…spirited," Diana decided after a long moment, "opinionated, fiery, doesn't like being told what to do, doesn't like Batman very much."

Steve snorted. "And she's the kid of Poison Ivy? How does that even work? Joint custody with Flash?"

"Surprisingly, yes."

Steve blinked and stared. "Wait, really? I was just joking!"

Diana gave a small laugh. "It seems to be working for them and Poison Ivy has officially retired from villainy, so we don't really have much to complain about with her…she does love Amy a lot, though, you can tell, and Amy adores her; really, she adores all of her parents."

"And which one lost their parents?" Steve asked, trying to keep all the names straight in his head, but as sleep-addled as it was, he was having a difficult time of it.

"Kid Flash, he's Amy's cousin."

"Flash's protégé," Steve recalled. There had been some question as to if Flash could really have a sidekick that was a relative, but no one had complained when they managed to take down their rogues with much less damage than Superman in his battles. It was probably best to leave family out of the discussion, anyways.

His thoughts were cut off suddenly at the polite knock on the door before a small figure entered.

It was strange seeing Storm Chaser out of the uniform, Steve didn't realize how much smaller she seemed without it on. Her green eyes were tired, the skin around her eyes just a bit raw, and her hair was a tangle of black, like she couldn't be bothered to deal with combing it. He could see the scars on her chest where they couldn't be hidden by her neckline.

Those tired eyes darted from Steve to the tubes that were hooked up to him.

"Hello," she said finally after a long moment, "you woke up."

She was pretty blunt, but Steve got the feeling that that might've had to do more with her emotional exhaustion than anything else.

"I did," he agreed, sparing her a smile as she approached little by little, like a cornered animal tentatively eyeing the hand that was offering her food. "I heard you were the one that helped Diana find me."

Amy's boot scuffed on the floor. "It wasn't that big of a deal. Just doing my job."

"Thank you, anyways," Steve said warmly and Amy's lips twitched in the corners.

"Diana did most of the legwork," Amy shrugged, "I just connected everything."

"Which was the most important part," Diana assured her with a smile and reaching a hand out to pat her shoulder but Amy stiffened suddenly. Steve remembered her story, about how Weather Wizard hurt her, and about how Vandal Savage had tried very dearly to kill her -buried under debris, two broken limbs, and an attempted strangling seemed very much like overkill, but Steve couldn't bring himself to be surprised- and he was honestly surprised that she was still standing, still with the League.

Amy didn't say anything to that, merely scrutinizing Steve intently. "You don't look anything alike," she sighed with a bit of disappointment.

"Me and Savage?" Steve was startled by the prospect.

Amy made an annoyed huff. "You and Roy," she disagreed.

Roy Harper, Speedy-turned-Red-Arrow, her partner. They were closer than most partners, Steve remembered; it had caused quite a stir when Amy went AWOL to go off to find her partner on her own, and that had been back when she was ten. Now it seemed she made a habit of becoming a runaway.

"Are we supposed to?" Steve's confusion rose in his voice.

"Well, Savage was the one suggesting Roy was related to him as well," Amy said with an air of exhaustion that told Steve she probably needed a good night's sleep.

That information had Steve sharing a surprised look with Diana.

"Did you tell Batman this?" Diana asked, vaguely startled.

Amy didn't have the time to reply, her phone had buzzed. "This is Oracle," she said sharply into the phone, "what can I do for you Batman?"

Speak of the devil and he shall appear…or call, technically.

Her brow furrowed at whatever he said and then she sighed. "I'll update the wall, but somehow a missing person turning up dead isn't better news, Bats…no, I get that…if I had the time to sleep, what do you think I'd be doin—I'm fine!" She ended the call and growled loudly before twisting back to Steve. "I'm glad you're doing better, hope you get out of here soon, but I've gotta go." And then she was out of the door faster than Steve could blink.

"She's dealing with a lot right now, I think," Diana told him with a frown. "Ironically, she and Bats used to get on much worse than that."

"You sure?" Somehow Steve doubted it with how annoyed she was at the call. But, then again, he had been away for months, so Diana would certainly be the one to know.

Diana hummed with her nod before leaning down to kiss his cheek. "Now take it easy while I go help the League."

Steve rolled his eyes for good measure. "Diana Prince always rushing off to save the world."

She couldn't help but laugh and Steve smiled to hear it on her way out, he got the feeling that she hadn't been doing much laughing in the past few days, let alone months. It must've been rough time for the League, given how everyone seemed to be running around, pulling all-nighters.

Steve hoped Amy tried to get some rest soon, she certainly looked like she needed it.


"You two didn't need to come and help with this," Barry tried to point out again, a bit more tiredly than the last time, but he was beginning to realize that it was useless at this point.

Pamela and Harley situated the bed in the middle of the room as instructed. "You asked," Pamela pointed out, "besides, its better if you and Iris aren't doing too much, you've got to look after Wally and Amy."

Barry sighed. Amy, who had been staying at the Isley-Quinzel's rather than be in the same room as her cousin, radiating gloom and doom and burning regret. Barry had tried to tell her that it wasn't her fault, that she couldn't be blamed for the choices her biological father had made, but Amy…it was like she had a raincloud hovering over her (though she certainly was capable of that, she hadn't physically created one yet). She spent most of her time holed up in her Oracle Cave or avoiding Wally, which was taking some serious effort on her part.

"How are Iris and Wally?" Harley asked in concern, giving his arm a squeeze before helping to put up Iris' clothes in the closet.

It was so strange that months ago they had all been fighting about Amy's custody, that Pamela and Barry had nearly been at each other's throats about who was to blame about the situation escalating so much, but here they were now; Iris, Harley, and Pamela all having a group chat that they talked about random things in -everything from Amy to cute dogs was on the table-, and if any of them needed help with something, they knew they could ask each other. Amy had said they all sounded like amicable exes and Barry and Pamela choked, especially when she admitted that that was the easiest way to explain the joint custody issue.

So, apparently, as far as Amy's ballerina friends went, Barry and Pamela had used to be married. Neither of them was a fan of the idea, even more so now that Amy was out to them about being Storm Chaser, but Mark Mardon was a whole can of worms that they didn't need to deal with.

The story they were going with now was that Amy's biological father was a man named Edward Tillis -the same name they'd given CCPD after the attempted murder on the train- who'd had a fling with Pamela before she and Barry got together. They'd stayed together until Amy was four, then split amicably. Pamela had to do some overseas work, so Amy had spent most of her time with Barry in Central City until Pamela returned several months previously, then they went back to joint custody.

It made sense, retrospectively, but Harley and Iris couldn't get over how repulsed Barry and Pamela were to the idea that they'd once been married. They liked each other just fine but…no, please never put that image in their heads ever again.

"Iris is…she's trying to rationalize it, I think, but Wally…" Barry rubbed a hand against his forehead hard enough to leave a brief mark there. "It's like his world's ended…he's having a really difficult time of it. We let him sleep at the Crock's last night because he was such a mess. Artemis' mom said he and Artemis were passed out on the couch by midnight."

"At least he's got people to help him through it," Pamela assured him, her eyes drifting off in a manner that made her look like Amy when she was remembering something in the distant past. "When my parents died…it was tough. I was pretty much alone with no idea what to do, but with you guys, he's got a good support system."

Barry watched Pamela set up the alarm clock on the bedside table. "He'd been fighting with them, you know?" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "We both were, really."

"About him being a sidekick?" Harley asked from the closet, straightening Iris' shoes on the floor (muttering under her breath "Why for the love of God does she need this many shoes?").

"Yeah," Barry muttered. "Amy's had her fair share of debilitating injuries with the League, it was a kind of wakeup call for them. They were more worried that Wally wouldn't get so lucky, but Wally's…he's been progressing so well, he gets faster every day. I understood where they were coming from, but I didn't agree. Rudy was going to tell Wally he had to quit the Team when they got back from their trip, probably right after signing the divorce papers."

Pamela's eyes were sympathetic. "I thought they were going on that trip to see if they could work things out?"

"They were," Barry agreed, rubbing at his eyes, "but it's been over between them for months, Rudy and Mary could barely stand to be in the same room as one another…which is probably just another thing that Wally blames himself for."

"Poor kid," Harley grimaced. She'd never been particularly close to either of her parents, so it hadn't been an issue for her, but Wally was undoubtedly having a hard time. He was a sweet kid and though he'd initially been nervous of them, he'd warmed up after watching how they were with his cousin. "When's the funeral?"

"Two days," Barry informed, "I think Iris would be more of a wreck if she wasn't making sure that everything was planned out…she's more worried about Charlotte making a scene."

"That's the estranged sister, right?"

"Something like that." Barry's lips thinned into a line, thinking of all the times Charlotte had insulted Iris, Rudy, Wally, him, or Amy. She really didn't have an off switch with her 'woe-is-me' persona.

He checked his watch and Pamela shooed him. "Go be with your family, Barry, we'll get the house set up."

She smiled at his expression, caught somewhere between exasperated and relieved.

"If there's a family that needs a break, its this one," Harley decided when he'd gone, looking after him with a somber expression.

Pamela gave a grunt of agreement as they moved down to the living room to situate the furniture. It would've been easier if he'd stuck around, but with the family in disarray, Pamela and Harley could do this one thing of them if it made their lives a little easier.

Wally, certainly, didn't deserve the hand he'd been dealt.


Amara breathed in and out slowly, focusing on nothing but the air around her, icy-cold and whipping her harshly as she hovered in the clouds above the destroyed Cave. Amara still had trouble with regulating the temperature of air; Sergei could do it effortlessly, but it was a fairly advanced skill. The most that Amara could do was release a sharp gust of cold air if she blew hard and focused enough, but she couldn't warm the air around her to keep herself from freezing as well as others could.

Even after all this time, Amara was a novice. She didn't have the skill of Mardon -not that that was natural skill to start with, he had a bit of a head start with the Weather Wand that had always rejected Amara when she'd tried even the briefest touch-, Sergei had barely managed to get her through the basics of controlling her atmokinesis rather than letting it control her, which is how she'd been channeling it for years, before Roy had come to collect her.

If there was one thing that Amara needed, it was practice and control. It wasn't the same here, no one had her particular specialty, and chlorokinesis wasn't going to do jack shit against Mardon, so her mother was kind of out.

Amara needed to get away from Central City, from Gotham, from all of it. She needed to get away from the nightmares about Roy's hands tightening around her throat, away from the nightmares of her being buried under debris, away from the nightmares that were filled with nothing but pain.

She lost altitude briefly before reasserting herself shakily. The clouds beneath her swirled ominously and she brought her hands together, focusing as hard as she could. Her fingers sparked, but that's all they did. The bursts of lightning that she was known for never came.

Amara growled in aggravation, staring down at her hands, her hands that were so dependable were now so utterly useless.

She leaned her head back and screamed her frustrations out into the sky, the clouds darkening and opening in a downpour, raining down on snow and ice, mixing with the tears on her cheeks.

But no lightning came, just the ominous booming of thunder in an answer to her pain.


The trapdoor slid back into place as she climbed up into her loft, weary, drained, and completely sopping wet. Amara pushed the wet hair out of her eyes as she dropped her keys into the tin on her desk, kicking off her boots next to her closet.

"Get stuck in a rainstorm or something?"

Amara froze before twisting around slowly in order to see the boy sitting on her bed.

Wally looked about as good as she felt, which was to say: he looked like utter shit. His hair was pulled in every direction, there were deep crescent moons carved under his eyes, and Amara couldn't help but feel like he was going to pass out at any second.

"Something like that," she admitted, her throat aching from venting her frustrations. "How long have you been here?" she asked almost casually, like she hadn't been studiously avoiding him for the past week.

"Two hours," Wally yawned and Amara noticed his AP History book was open on her bed. He'd been trying to take notes for the upcoming semester. "Your moms let me in. Harley plied me with food, said something about me needing to eat more."

Amara couldn't help but snort at that. "Yeah, she does that."

They settled into an awkward silence, just avoiding each other's eyes, not quite knowing what to say.

"Are you going to the funeral?" Wally asked her finally when he couldn't bear the silence any longer and Amara wrung out her hair for the need of something to do with her hands.

"I, um," Amara swallowed thickly and started again, "I wasn't sure you'd want me there."

"I wouldn't want—" Wally cut himself off in aggravation, blinking furiously and looking out the window. He seemed dangerously close to crying. "Of course, I want you there," he bit out finally, the words hoarse with the emotion he was trying to suppress. "You're my cousin. It's not your fault that—"

"But he's my father," Amara insisted and Wally full-on glared at her, something he had never done before, full of wrath and pain and sharp-edged glass.

"You hate when people say that about him, so now you're just using it as an excuse," he said in a way that Amara knew for sure that he'd been talking with Dinah. "Your father is Barry Allen, besides, you were nearly dead when the plane got-got—" Wally had to take a shuddering breath once and then twice before starting up again. "You were nearly dead when it happened, so why the fuck would I blame you for it?"

"I—" Roy's grinning face flashed in her mind.

"I—" Aunt Mary and Uncle Rudy dancing together at a family reunion, laughing together.

"I—" Mardon's face twisting into a sadistic for of a grin whenever she yelped in pain from his random shocks.

And then Amara burst into tears, true gut-throbbing sobs, the likes of which Wally had never seen before. It threw him off to see his cousin, his stubborn, fiery, steadfast cousin, who had put up with so much unfortunate turn of events in her life, have such a complete and utter breakdown.

(He hadn't been there to see her last one when she found out she couldn't use her legs, just the numbing aftermath)

He stood in an instant, bringing his arms around her without thinking twice, letting her sob into his shoulder, letting her release all the emotions she'd pent up for days with trying to focus her way through them. It had been all too much and the dam had burst, soaking both of them to the bone.

And if Amara felt Wally's shoulders tremble, she mentioned nothing of it.


AN: Wally almost wasn't in the chapter, but here we are.

As always: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!