His first cognizant thought was an acknowledgment of the time. Granted, it took three tries but in the end a successful 3:45 AM resided within Wally's rather flabbergasted mind.
Damn. Another nightmare. And here I thought I outgrew them.
"Feelin' alright there, Kid?"
Even better. I had a nightmare while crashing at Roy's house. Joy to the world, the torment has come.
"Y'know," Wally slurred sleepily, "I can never distinguish whether 'kid' means child or is used in reference to my secret I.D."
"Ever consider the notion of it being both?"
"Yes, actually. That's what brought about the confusion."
There was a moment of comfortable silence as the two redheads ignored the other's existence.
"Y'know, it's nothing to be ashamed of, right?"
"What do you mean?"
"A nightmare. Given our jobs and given the date on my calendar over there, I'd say it's almost good that you feel something."
Silence was his only answer.
"If you want to hide it from the others, fine. I get it. But it's me, Wally. I was there when all that shit was happening. Its heavy stuff." Another pause. Another lack of response.
"I'm here if ya wanna talk at all, okay?" Roy stated, an odd glint of annoyed concern laced his voice as he walked into the kitchen.
Clattering could be heard as his cheap coffee pot whirred into action.
Feeling a tad bit guilty and truly needing the comfort of his honorary big brother, Wally stumbled into the kitchen and collapsed into his favorite seat at the dented table.
His green eyes scanned the surface of the table, the scratches as chaotic as the orange wisps of hair upon his head.
"Roy?"
"Yeah, Kid?"
"It's not entirely wrong, right?"
"You're being cryptic again, Wally."
"I should hate my parents. I mean, I try to feel something- anything. Love or hate, but I just don't feel anything. Is that… Is that wrong? I mean, I should feel at least something, right?"
Another stream of silence wafted through the room before a forlorn sigh resonated from the resident speedster followed quickly by a loud growling.
It's this level of friendship Wally truly adores with Roy. The friendship where it's entirely okay to suddenly raid his fridge for food. No words necessary.
Somehow Wally found bread, meat, and sketchy cheese that he figured was a valid risk he was willing to take. His metabolism is nearly rock hard at this point both from his powers and the necessary eating habits and beneficial anti-virus his hyper-metabolism provides. Sour milk hardly even fazes the teenager.
Benefits of being a speedster, I guess.
Yet sandwiches provide no comfort against memories. And, as far as speedster benefits are concerned, there are plenty of downfalls as well. The increased speed of his brain, for starters. The simple task of preparation was merely muscle memory. His hands provided the muscle while his mind supplied plenty of dreadful memories.
Memories of his father coming home drunk.
Memories of stepping in front of his mother. A woman who would always love her husband more than her son. The woman who could never see a fault in his father but saw plenty in her own flesh and blood. The taunts, the slurs, the verbal abuse. And, with a painful shiver, Wally remembered the beatings. They weren't every day. If they were, Wally was sure he'd never have survived. But they were alarmingly frequent. They all came flooding back, quickly drowning the seventeen-year-old's mind.
A firm hand upon his trembling shoulder pulled Wally back to reality. The memories, however, resurrected old habits. With a tremendous flinch and a muffled scream, Wally sped to the other side of the kitchen.
A few tense seconds passed as Roy simply stood before his best friend. He knew how this would go. He's known Wally since he was nine back when Barry introduced the two with the hope of Wally finally having a friend. It worked better than Oliver or Barry would ever have imagined, at least, after the first couple of 'play dates'. Roy had been Wally's punching bag. An upbringing like his tends to make for a rather angry kid. Roy could understand that, of course. He never knew his parents. Not enough, at least. He was raised more so by Brave Bow than his father and he saw the man die before his very eyes. And here was a kid who knew them as nothing but malicious monsters. No matter how hard he imagined such a situation- such an emotion- he simply couldn't. Sure, he and Ollie had their differences, but the guy always tried his best. He wasn't perfect, no, but he was far from the beast Wally must remember his father being.
He'd been by Wally's side through it all. Through the mysterious bruises. He heard about the night Wally walked all the way from Keystone to Central City with a broken arm just to get help from his uncle. The only father figure the kid had ever had at the time. The trial to put his father away and the custody battle between the Allens and Wally's mother. The accident that gave him his powers. It all happened back-to-back. Mere months or simply weeks apart. It was a hard time for the kid.
Standing there in his kitchen now, Roy knew what Wally was going through. Perhaps not entirely. He wasn't in Wally's position. But he certainly knew more than most. Wally didn't talk much about his parents. The kid never could bring himself to call Rudolph by anything more than the distant term of 'Father.' The Queen's mansion was like Wally's second home for the following year.
The way Wally just flinched reminded Roy of how jumpy the kid was after his father was arrested. The way a sudden sound or movement would cause the ten-year-old to jump a good foot or two in the air. The way he'd cling to the closest person around, too scared to be alone. The way he'd cower by any movement that was sudden or involved a hand being raised, even for something as simple as grabbing a box of cereal off the top shelf. And his constant, almost habitual apologizing. The mere memories twisted Roy's heart, his stomach churned in anger and sympathy. Wally never deserved that. It had taken years to break the habit. He never slipped up. Looking at the seventeen-year-old now and days, no one would even entertain the idea of the sharp witted, incredibly intelligent, spastic goofball to have a past of abuse. Except for one night a year. The anniversary of his father's arrest.
Roy knew how to comfort the kid. But he could never quench the fury that flowed through his veins this night every year.
"I'm sorry, Roy. I just thought about-"
"It's alright, Wally. I understand." With quiet steps, Roy walked over to his best friend. Reaching out his hand, Roy pulled the frazzled ginger back into his living room.
"How's a classic movie marathon sound, huh?"
"Sounds perfect, Roy." Wally said with a shaky smile.
Almost half way through the movie, Roy faced the lean teen.
"I think we both know you have every right to hate them, Wally. The thing that sets you apart is that you don't. It shows just how strong of a kid you are."
A wave of comfortable silence washed over the room as the film's audio echoed around the bare walls of Roy's apartment.
"Thanks, Roy." Wally finally said with a smile.
The two sat watching Casablanca for a brief moment when Roy spoke up, his voice displaying his resigned commitment, "Wanna go down to the 24-hour diner and have the all you can eat pancakes? I'll buy."
"Roy, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
A/N: I know it's sort of cliche, but it just sort of happened so I'll just leave this here and you'll REVIEW, right? Alright.