{2}
"It's okay, my beautiful boy," Nora Allen said, gently dabbing a washcloth over his bruised jaw, blood smeared underneath his nose, and tears rolled down his pallid cheeks. Barry hated defeat. He always looked weak and frail, everything week he'd come home with a bloodied nose, or a few scratches on his tiny face. He had become the prime target for this grade school bully horde. It had become a cold and discomforting feeling to lose a fight when he took a stand, and shielded another boy, smaller than himself in the schoolyard.
In the result of his defiance, he was thrown to the ground, punched in the stomach, and had his bones jostle with a blow to his jaw. Despite the thralls of lingering pain and brokenness in his body, he never felt more warmth and security to know that he wasn't alone. His light blue eyes fell to his mother's beauty and gentle features, she sat on the edge of his mattress, staring at him with assurance in her angelic blue eyes obscured by long strands of auburn.
Carefully, she swiped the dried blood off his blemished cheek, "I'm proud of you, Barry."
Nora smiled sweetly, "You defended another boy from your school when no else did. You were a hero today, Barry." She turned her gaze to the stack of comic books of Captain America on his nightstand. She extended out her hand, and grabbed one from the pile. "I remember when your grandfather gave these to you for Christmas when you were there, you are so excited to read them that you raced into the kitchen and went under the table, and you stay there for heroes reading the wartime adventures of America's greatest hero.
She stroked her fingers through his mop of dark hair. "You remind me of Steve Rogers," Barry's blue eyes flickered to the book clutched in her other hand. "He started out just like you did, small and always a target for bullies to pick on, but he never backed down from a fight. He took the punches and stood his ground, and then he was chosen to become Captain America, it wasn't because he was strong and brave, but that he was a good man who fought for the little guys."
Barry lowered his eyes to the scraps on his hands, and he sighed, earnestly. "I'm not like Captain America; he doesn't run from a fight. Not like I do."
Nora shook her head, softly. "You run, but you always come back, Barry." She leaned forward and pressed a soft on his forehead. "Cap would be proud of you."
Feeling her warmth cloaking around his battered form, Barry's eyes drifted shut, and he whispered, "You're my hero, mom." he smiled weakly. "Always will be..."
The smell of brewed coffee permeated the air. A dimness of gray morning light filtered from the drapes hung over the frosted windows. The warmth layering blankets toasted remnants of security over his broad flesh, and kept his restless body imprisoned in the folds of sheets. His eyes fluttered open, and eyelashes battered over his cheeks.
Instantly, Barry peeled his eyelids open to reveal bleary grayish irises that held swirls of cobalt under the obscurity cloaked over his bruised face. He blinked, too dazed to care if he still wore the red cowl, but then a faint groan escaped his lips as his hands fumbled over the pillows, and he desperately tried to hide his face the bleak light illumining the now strange room.
"Where am I?" he whispered in a groggy tone, barely familiar to his ears. "What time is it?" He screwed his eyes shut and tried to fall back into the feverish abyss, his temples were pulsing. Exhaustion clawed at him, and he felt pressure in his abdominal muscles.
He endeared pain for fourteen years placed his life on hold and allowed the vengeance of his mother's death consume everything around him. Many of times he wanted to run away from it all when the dull ache reentered his heart, the world had changed in his absence, and divisions were keeping him from taking a stand against fear and guilt. He carried everyone's burdens on his shoulders, observed their emotions, and saving dozens of lives without truly knowing why he was chosen to be struck in that the lightning storm and have his DNA strands altered beyond human coding.
Barry broke sound barriers, punched metal, lost pints of blood during his fights against the mega humans and watched people lose their humanity because of the corruption between choice and power. He still lacked discipline and the tried to avert himself from the impasse of life and death, but he had a heart. That organ that pumped in rapid pulses of speed in his chest was his greatest strength to use when nothing else seemed to matter-no speed force, no recreation of damaged cellular structures or his daring spirit.
When it all mattered, the choices were weaved by unbreakable threads of logical error and free will, he protected lives by racing into the range of the bullet, and taking the pain for them. It was necessary to sacrifice.
The lightning bolt chose you for a reason. You can do the impossible Barry because you have the heart to.
He didn't want to be awake. He felt defeated. He fought against the dull aches penetrating in his bones, but everything was spinning out of control in his unfocused mind. Swirls of red and flashes of yellow grew violent, and he thrashed his arms up, reaching for something to grasp, to help pull him out of the delirium.
His slender body writhed under the blankets, chest elevated with heavy coattails of breath and light stabbed against his sealed eyelids. Foggy images of Joe and Iris gripped his mind, making him feel like the world was moving fast-forward and he was stuck in slow motion. His heartbeat consumed his ears, as he trembled against the chills, feeling his body regress against the unknown toxin that was shot into him during the fight in the alley back in Central City.
He didn't keep both eyes open, he wasn't a step ahead of the game, and in result of his lack of discipline to judgment, he got wounded severely, and he raced out of the city. He thought his high active metabolism would sweat out the poison, but he made the wrong turn and ended up here in Washington D.C
After meeting Captain Rogers, he blacked out in the snow, and placed his trust into a noble and resilient man he believed in when he was a little boy.
A hand placed a drenched cloth over his forehead. It felt good in the midst of the fever that he fought. "Flash." whispered a familiar masculine voice that was firm and laced with concern.
Involuntary, Barry reacted to the voice, and darted his glazed eyes open, he found himself staring into the crystal blue eyes of his childhood hero. Steve was a vision of sheer radiance against the darkness of his misery. Steve was everything Barry had imagined him to be from the comics, a modern age Adonis-hulking muscles that would intimate the brooding Oliver Queen, stunning blue eyes with clear hope welled in his stern gaze, dirty golden hair that was spiked at the hairline. His chiseled face and the healed scars of his past and guilt.
He was unfocused on his own life, and yet he still protected the lives of strangers with his wits and shield. He was the perfection of valor and heroics, a true patriot and justice fighter. He was Captain America.
"You okay?" Steve addressed with the brush of sincerity in his voice." Last night was a bit rough, but somehow you managed to pull through after a nurse I know extracted the bullet out of you."
"It sure doesn't feel like the bullet was removed, Cap," Barry said through clenched teeth. He lifted himself up, and leaned the muscular planes of his back against the wooden headboard. He took a moment, and released a heavy gulp of air, trying not to convey his defiant exterior in front of Steve. His hand pressed over the cotton gauze swathed over the lower half of his torso. "I didn't mean to ruin your night," he whispered in a hoarse voice, his throat raw and tongue thick as he leveled his stare with Steve's bright eyes. He felt his blood churn under the intense stare of the super-soldier. He choked up his words, almost sounding incoherent. "I had no intention on coming here... It was an accident." he said breathlessly.
Steve shook his head, faintly, "Don't worry about it, Flash. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay." he replied, and placed the cloth into a bowl. "Besides, I don't the mind the company." he tried to strike up a conversion with the young dark haired man, feeling awkward. He curved his lips into a light smirk, and eased back against the chair at the bedside.
"You can heal very fast. The nurse couldn't believe how little time it took for your gunshot wounds to seal up without medication. That's something only a few people that I know can do, but it usually takes a few days. With you it was only two hours."
"My name is Barry Allen, Captain Rogers." the young man begun with his eyes latched onto Steve. "I am the fastest man alive. I wasn't experimented on with injections of the recreation of super-soldier serum. I was hit by lightning that molded particles in my body after the chemicals split over me and I was stuck in a coma for a few months. During that period of stasis, the energy that shot through me altered my DNA and giving me powers that my friends back at Star Labs call speed force." he explained thoroughly, with a bright smile creeping over his lips."I can do the impossible, break the sound barrier, run on water, scale buildings within a second. I don't abuse my powers, I use them to save people... and occasionally defend the little guys in back alleys."
Steve gave him a serious look, his eyebrows creased as he stared down at Barry, "Speed force," he parroted, in a low voice. He placed his fisted hand under his chin, and pondered for a long moment. "That's pretty cool. I can run fast, but I can't break the sound barrier just Sam Wilson's pride during our morning runs. The uniform is what you use has a symbol of freedom in your city?"
Barry drew out a long breath, he had been holding, "Yeah, you can say that," he answered sheepishly, and then suddenly his blue eyes widened as he patted his face, and then he stammered with bedazzlement. "'Wait... My mask?"
"Don't worry, I know how to keep a secret," Steve assured, curling his lip into a firm line. "I made breakfast if you're ready to eat, but don't refuse a meal when you're wounded. It will help keep your strength up."
"I'll take that into consideration, Cap," Barry noted the super-soldier's concern, his eyelids were growing heavy. He felt the bile lapping in his tensed stomach, and he groaned. "How about instead of breakfast... I'll catch up on dinner. I'm buying it because it's the least I can do after you saved me, Captain America."
"I appreciate the offer, Barry," Steve responded in modest voice, placing his hand firmly on the young man's shoulder, "I'm taking care of you while you recover. My kitchen will be always open when you need something. Now, get some rest, I'll be in the living room working out and if you need anything, just call out my name or whatever name comes to mind." he lightly smiled, "I'm glad we finally met each other, "he said sternly. " It's been a long time since I had a good friend staying under my roof."
Barry smiled; he couldn't restrain his jovial emotions. "It's a real honor to have Captain America as a friend, sir-" He slurred as his eyes drifted shut, and he fell back into a deep slumber.
Smiling to himself, Steve lifted the red cowl off the floor, and looked hard at the mask while he whispered, adamantly, "He's a good kid... When he's older Barry will become a great man."
A/N: A big thank you to all the readers. (All spelling edits have been corrected.)