The Flash saved my life. That's what started it. Yeah, you probably know the Flash is my foster brother, but I didn't. I just knew him as the guy who gave up all of his powers to save me, a random kid. The thing about Barry is, he would've done it even if he hadn't known me.

So there I was, a kid who'd only stopped street racing a couple of months back, with a debt of gratitude as big as Central City itself. I knew I couldn't pay it back, but I wanted to help. Just because I didn't have metahuman powers didn't mean I had no drive or desire to save people.

The first time I tried to help, I was heading home from school when I saw some kids robbing a convenience store. They were younger than me, probably in high school. I came over, and they got scared and ran, just because I started yelling and drawing attention. The owner, an older guy, was so thankful he gave me a case of Hershey bars as a gift.

Win, right? You might think so, but the next day, when the CCPD was reviewing the security camera footage to see if they could ID the kids, I was on it, and somebody recognized me and told my dad. I got home at the normal time, when he was usually still at work, but as I was unlocking the door to our house, he opened it.

My dad is a tall guy, and he's pretty imposing when he's not happy about something. I'm not exactly small, but he's got a few inches on me, and he used them to full advantage. "Heard something real interesting at work," he said. "Somebody stopped a robbery last night, but it wasn't the Flash. It was a kid coming back from college. You know something about that?"

I squared my shoulders. "I saw something going on, so I went to help."

"It didn't cross your mind to call 911 or something?"

I thought fast. "I—didn't know if they would hurt the owner of the place if I took the time."

"You sure about that? You sure you didn't just want to be the hero?"

I shrugged. He was probably right, but I wasn't about to admit it.

"Wally, may I remind you that you are not invincible, nor do you have any other power that would make bullets bounce off you? If those kids had been armed, something really ugly could have happened."

I stared at the carpet and didn't say anything.

"Your sister Iris and Barry and I really like having you around," he continued. "Taking stupid chances just because you feel like you owe the world or the Flash something isn't helpful; it's just naive."

I let the words wash over me. I liked the tone. I'm not a masochist, trust me, but when you've lived your whole life without your dad to tell you off, and you finally get a dad lecture, it feels weirdly affirming.

"Wally, are you listening?" Dad realized I was somewhere else, of course. He reads people; it's kind of his thing.

"Yeah," I said. "I get it."

He gave me a piercing stare. "Does that mean you're not going to do it again?"

"No," I said honestly. "I can't promise that. I really need to help."

He rubbed his hand over his face and sighed. "Why did the good Lord send me such stubborn kids? Do you think I like getting onto you? You're practically an adult, Wally, but somebody has to tell you if you're being stupid."

"Sorry," I said. Not because I was sorry for what I'd done, but I was sorry for worrying him. "Didn't mean to scare you. I thought you'd never find out."

"I'm glad I did," he answered sharply. "Obviously, I need to keep more of an eye on you." He went silent again and kept looking at me. Finally, he put his hands on my shoulders. "Be honest for a second."

"Okay," I answered.

"Wally, do you—like it when I get onto you?"

I blushed, and I really wanted to lie, but he would have seen through me. "It's kind of nice to have someone to get lectures from," I admitted.

Joe threw up his hands. "I give up. You kids are so different from each other that I'm never gonna get a handle on it, even if I live to be a hundred. Telling Iris off always got me a giant argument, and telling Barry off usually ended up with him in tears. I never had one that appreciated it."

"Mom worked a lot when I was little, and she checked out when her sickness got bad. I never had a stepdad," I explained, feeling shy about the fact that he'd managed to get to the truth.

"Well," he said, "you're going to get more than your fair share of it if you keep up this hero thing. I get that you want to help, but you're a kid, Wally, a brilliant kid, but not a metahuman or a cop. If you're thankful for what the Flash did, be a good student. Contribute something to the world."

"I—I'll try," I answered. Man, he was good. He might claim that he didn't understand us, but he knew what made his kids tick, and hearing that he thought I was brilliant and believed I could do something good in the world? That actually made me want to prove him right.

It was kind of a draw, when all was said and done. I'd said what I wanted to say, and my dad had said what he wanted to say. I hadn't expected to give an inch, but I found myself compromising, promising that I'd try not to do things that would get me killed, just because I wanted to make him proud.

"Come here." He put his hand on the back of my neck and pulled me in for a hug. "I'm glad you're safe." It was still new, the feeling of my dad holding onto me. I felt the tension drain out of my body in the safety of his embrace. I don't think that part will ever go away, no matter how old I am.

"Thanks, Dad," I said, pulling back after a while.

After that, I was even more conflicted. I didn't like doing things that worried my family, but I couldn't get rid of the fire in my belly. I had been spared for some reason, and I wanted to somehow prove I was worth it.

And then, on the weirdest day of my life, the Flash got his powers back, and I was hit in the explosion. I thought, maybe, just maybe, that's what everything had been for, what I was meant to be. If I finally had powers, surely everything would start to make sense.

Finally, maybe, I would be worth something.