It had startled the young couple when the phone rang. They had been contently wrapped in one another's arms, sitting on the couch in the dark and staring out the window, watching the bright flashes of lightning and listening to the thunder as it rattled the glass.

The storm was being credited as one of the largest they'd had in the past decade, the cloud cover spreading across of most of North America, though some places were hit harder by a super cell than others. Central city was in the middle of a power outage, which is why the ringing of a phone had been so unexpected.

"What is that?"

"A phone."

"Yes, dear," Iris gave her husband a lighthearted whack for his wit. "But where? Whose?"

"Yours, I think." Barry untangled himself from the woman's grip and rose, crossing the living room to where Iris's phone vibrated against the table, ringing loudly and obnoxiously into the silence. "It's your brother," he said, reading the display. He handed the cell phone off to his wife, who sat up straight as she flipped it open.

"Hey Rudy, how ar-"

Iris suddenly stopped short, face turning up to her husband with a puzzled look as he came around the couch to sit at her side.

"Mary?" she said, "Mary what's wrong? Yes, it's me, what's going..."

Barry watched his lover's expression pale with worry.

"He's gone? Gone where?"

"No, no, we haven't seen him...you know I'd tell you if we did."

"Of course, I'll let you know if anything changes."

Slowly, Iris closed her phone and cradled the device delicately in her hands. The tension in the air was thick and Barry felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He had a pretty good guess as to what had gone wrong.

"Rudy and Wally got into a fight again," Iris bit her lip, only confirming what the man had assumed. "Mary called to say he'd run out hours ago. They don't know where he is, or how they can contact him, or if he's coming home...She's worried now that the storm's gotten so bad..." The woman lifted her stare to her husband, her lips pressed together in a fine line, her eyes brimming with the requests she didn't need to make.

"I'll find him," Barry promised, placing his larger hands over hers and giving them a reassuring squeeze. He rose from the couch and jogged up the stairs. When he returned, he was wearing a familiar golden ring and in his opposite hand, held his cell phone. "I'll call you in a bit, I may need you to bring the car."

Barry didn't need to explain, they both knew that the kid was sharp – he'd suspect something if the Flash appeared and knew exactly where to take him, if he wasn't already curious as to what the speedster was doing out looking for one runaway in a city full of strays. He would have to show up as a civilian, but finding him as the Flash would save precious time.

Besides, this was something Barry was needed for, not the Flash.

Barry was out in the door in a streak of crimson and a blaze of wind that his lover was so very used to. She went to stand worriedly at the window, staring out into the storm with an expression of sorrow for the child lost in the rain.

It took him a little over a minute to scour the city completely, and only a few seconds longer to find the fire-haired boy huddled under an apartment overhang near the outskirts of Central. His jeans and sweater were soaked through, his normally wild hair plastered to his skull with water. He looked so small, shivering and alone in the grey. Barry whisked out of his costume, returned it to his ring and jogged at a civilian-pace towards the boy from a little ways down the street.

"Wally!" he called, and the twelve-year-old lifted his head. He spotted his uncle approaching and did the most peculiar thing.

He ran.

Had he known about his Uncle's abilities and identity, he would've known that even the thought of trying to outrun him was preposterous. As the boy took off down an alley, Barry moved a little faster – within reason, of course – until he was going the acceptable speed for a sprinting civilian.

But the boy was quick. It took Barry only a fraction of a second to understand that the pace he'd decided was 'acceptable' would not be enough to catch his nephew. Admittedly, the boy's natural speed was impressive and something he'd obviously worked at to achieve. It was clear that all those track-and-field or cross country trophies were rightfully earned.

It was flattering to come to the realization that the boy worked so hard with his running with aspirations to be like his hero – and unbeknownst to him, his uncle – the Flash.

Still, natural talents aside, Barry couldn't let the boy run off alone into the storm. He applied a little more of his speed and quickly found himself gaining. Before Wally could think to move out of the way, he'd come upon the child from behind and grabbed him in a tight bear hug, lifted him off the concrete and held him there. His nephew kicked and squirmed, but found that the man's grip was firm.

"Let me go, Uncle Barry!" Wally was struggling to sound assertive over the pounding of the rain and the rumble of thunder above.

"Calm down, Wally, what are you running for?"

"I'm not going back there! I'm not going back to him!"

"What are you talking about? Relax!" The boy threw his head back and smacked his uncle solidly in the jaw. The hit barely registered and the pain was gone almost as soon as it had appeared, but Barry cried out nevertheless. "Wally, please!"

He held tightly as the pre-teen struggled himself to exhaustion. Gradually, his squirming became weaker and weaker until he allowed himself to hang limp in his Uncle's arms.

"I'm going to put you down, Wally," Barry said slowly, "Okay? I just want to talk to you."

The boy mumbled something affirmative, and gradually was set back down onto the pavement. He didn't move a muscle and hung his head low, so Barry took him by the shoulders and turned him around.

"Wally, tell me what happened."

The kid's fists clenched at his sides, and instead of answering, he lifted his head and stared his uncle hard in the face. The boy's green eyes were alight with anger and pain, but just as quick to snatch his attention was the dark bruise on his jaw and the split lip.

Rudolph had hit him?

"Did...did he...?"

Barry trailed off, taking the boy's stubborn silence as an answer. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"I'm going to call Iris and tell her to come get us, okay?" as Wally stiffened, Barry was quick to continue, "but you're staying with us for the time being. We will explain it to your parents, but we'll be taking you home and cleaning you up. You're not staying out in this weather all night."

The boy's angry expression began to crack with the quivering of his lower lip. His shoulders began to shake, and even as the phone was ringing Barry swept the boy up into a hug.

"It's okay, kid," he soothed, "it's gonna be okay."

An hour later, Wally was seated on their couch in a pair of dry sweatpants and an old t-shirt of Barry's. Iris had brought them both hot chocolate, and the ginger wrapped both hands around the mug and stared into the drink with a solemn expression that was unlike him.

In the hallway that was now lit thanks to the return of electricity, the young couple spoke in hushed voices.

"What do we tell Mary and Rudolph?"

"That we're keeping him."

"We can't, Barry."

"We can for the time being. At least until the dust settles between him and Rudolph.."

"And how do you think Rudy is going to take it?"

"Rudy doesn't have a choice. I'm not sending Wally back there right now. Surely you-"

"I feel the exact same way, Barry, but we have to be realistic. If Rudy wants him back, we can't exactly say no."

"We can."

"Barry..."

"I'll make the call, Iris."

The woman sighed, brushing some of her hair away from her face. She was quiet for a moment, then slowly allowed herself to smile, bringing her hand up to brush lightly against the side of her husband's face. He leaned into the touch and returned her smile.

"I love you, Barry."

He answered her with a quick kiss, then took her phone from her hand and dialled the number.

"Hey, Mary? It's Barry. Yes, we found him. He's fine, just a little waterlogged. Look – yeah, he didn't get too far – Mary, is Rudolph with you? Can I speak to him?"

Iris's eyes were wide with worry as she leaned in close to better hear the conversation. Her hands, which up until that point and been braced gently against his chest, clenched into fists.

"Rudolph? Yes, it's Barry. Yes, we found your son. The storm didn't hurt him, Rudolph."

There was a long pause as Barry waited for words that just weren't coming.

"Rudolph, we're going to keep Wally here for a few days, okay? I'm...I'm glad you understand, Mr. West. Yes...he's...well, he'll be fine. Of course. I'll tell him. We'll call you tomorrow evening."

Quietly, Barry mumbled a goodbye and snapped the phone shut, letting out a long breath.

"What'd they say?" Iris already knew parts of it, but she wanted details.

"Rudolph thinks it's for the best that he stay here for a while. He wanted me to tell Wally that he's sorry...when he's ready to hear it."

Iris pressed her lips together in that typical thoughtful fashion of hers.

"Rudy is a good guy," she said softly, "he just has a terrible temper...it sometimes gets the better of him...I'm sure Wally knows..."

"That doesn't make it okay, Iris."

"I know, trust me, I know. I just...I want them to be okay."

'Them' being the Wests, Barry concluded. With a sigh, he pulled Iris into a hug and buried his face in her hair. He took in a long breath, finding her scent to be calming.

"I'm sure they will be," he said softly, "but for now..."

They pulled apart and turned the corner, standing briefly in the doorway as they both gave Wally a worried stare. He hadn't moved from his spot on their couch, still staring down into the beverage that had at last stopped steaming. After a universal pause, the boy lifted the mug and took a long drink.

When Barry came downstairs the next morning, Wally was already awake. He was sitting cross-legged on their couch, a plate holding a single piece of toast balanced on his knee, a second piece was hanging out of the boy's mouth by the corner as he mashed the buttons on the Xbox controller in his hands.

This wasn't Wally's first overnight stay; his uncle's and aunt's place was practically a second home to him. He knew where to find food and knew where his uncle stashed the games – the essentials, he would say. What was a little surprising was that the boy's hair was wet.

"Did you go out this morning?" Barry asked as he entered the room, his eyes finding the window and concluding that it was still raining, albeit much lighter than it had been the previous night.

"Yeah, I went for a run."

The boy was absorbed in his game, so he missed the intrigued expression on his uncle's face. It was unusual for a twelve-year-old boy to do such things as wake up early to go for runs, but then again, Wally wasn't an average pre-teen child. He was academically at the top of his class and participated in state-wide track events. Although, after spending time around the ginger and his happy-go-lucky, playful attitude, one would have troubles believing it.

"Alright then," said the man, "You feeling better?"

Before Wally answered, he finished his game and set down the controller, turning as he actually took a bite from his toast instead of just hanging onto it by his teeth.

"Fine," he said, though his expression was decidedly uncaring and that bruise still looked angry on his face.

"Where were you going?"

"What?"

"Last night. Where did you think you were going to go?"

The boy turned away, but Barry would not let him escape so easily. He crossed the room and sat down beside his nephew.

"I was gonna try and get to Gotham."

"Gotham?" echoed Barry, unsure if he was really all that surprised by this.

"Yeah, I wanted to see Dick again. It's been a while since we've hung out."

"Dick's been busy lately," admitted Barry, though he failed to specify what exactly the "boy wonder" was busy with. It'd been two years since the pair had first met, and despite the distance between them they had remained the best of friends. But some things, Richard just couldn't share with his closest friend. "I'm sure when things settle down for him, he'll be begging Bruce to bring him out here."

Wally gave an unconvinced grunt.

"Hey, I'm serious. Dick's not just gonna forget about you. You're too close for him to let that happen."

Barry watched in dismay as Wally's expression darkened further. This, he understood, was the red head going into his "serious mode," for those times that just didn't allow for his carefree jokes and immature tendencies. That was another thing that was unusual about the West boy. Normal twelve-year-old kids shouldn't have a "serious mode."

"You spoke with my dad last night, right?"

Rudolph West – the reason the boy had a serious mode. The blonde wondered how much Wally had heard.

"I did."

"What did he say?"

The boy's green eyes locked with his uncle, the corners of his mouth pointed downward in a no-nonsense frown. There was no point in lying to the kid when he was like this, he would see right through it.

"He said that you're welcome to stay here for as long as you need," Barry said slowly, watching his nephew's expression carefully, "and that he's sorry."

The boy made no move, no sound, for a period of time that made even Barry a little uneasy. Finally, Wally grunted, shrugged and took another bite of his toast, the tension in the air evaporating.

"I can't stay as long as I want to," Wally said simply, smiling this time. "'Cause then you'd never be rid of me. Besides, I have school and stuff."

Barry found his smile contagious, uplifted by the lighthearted tone his nephew was using. Wally wasn't the type to brood for very long.

"So is it okay if I stay just long enough for this to fade?" He poked at the bruise on his face with the crust of his toast. "Makes for less awkward questions in class."

"Well of course, but what about school work?"

"That's not a problem, I can catch up when I go back. School is a breeze anyways, half the time I only go because it's an awesome place to nap," Wally laughed, failing to also point out that his father would be furious if he started skipping school. Now was okay, he had permission, but typically the youngster avoided angering his parents as much as he could.

"Okay. Iris and I have work, are you gonna be okay on your own?"

"I'll manage, and I'll stay out of trouble, too. That's an added bonus."

Barry smiled and ruffled the boy's hair affectionately, getting to his feet so he could go get ready for the day and wake his wife while Wally inhaled the rest of his toast and resumed mashing buttons on the controller.

As usual, Wally had intended to stay out of trouble, but he found that two hours into his solitary stay in his Aunt and Uncle's house had him bored out of his mind. He'd fallen out of the mood for video games and didn't really want to go out, so in search of something better to do, the youngster had taken to exploring the house.

Trouble, however, seemed to have a knack for staring him in the face and eventually drawing him in. He knew that he shouldn't be in his aunt and uncle's room. He knew he didn't belong there, that it was a violation of his relatives' privacy. He knew they'd be cross if they discovered him here.

The last thing he wanted to do was give Iris and Barry a reason to be mad at him.

But still, where he intended to walk right by the open door, he found himself walking in. His eyes, as if guided, fell upon a briefcase resting against the wardrobe. The case – Wally couldn't help but to notice – wasn't shut properly.

That was practically an invitation.

Wally crossed the room, planning to only take a quick peek inside and then shut the case – to stop any further temptation. The case, however, practically fell open for his curious fingers. Inside were a few notebooks and papers, some with scientific jargon he could decipher if he stared at it long enough, others with words – letters to and from his Uncle that had been saved, as well as some envelopes with more miscellaneous files shoved inside. What was most intriguing was the large, leather-skinned book near the top of the pile.

The book looked old and worn, the leather faded and soft to the touch. Curious, Wally thumbed at the pages, watching as the dates climbed up from where Barry must have been around eighteen. With a thoughtful grunt, the ginger settled back onto his knees to felt himself absorbed in his Uncle's writing, pausing only to check the time on the digital display of the bedside clock.

10:05. His Aunt and Uncle had left only two or so hours ago, and wouldn't be home until after five. He had plenty of time.

Wally flipped back to the front cover of the book, starting at the beginning as he contently began to read into what Barry had recorded of his life until that day.

Hiiiii friends!

Thanks so much to those of you who reviewed, it makes me day every time I see one of those notices pop up on my e-mail. You guys make me so happy -insert giant hug here.- In addition, thanks to those of you who favourited and alerted this, I appreciate it, and don't be afraid to share your thoughts and feelings! I'd love to hear them: you're all such wonderful people here.

Anyways. Remember to review, and remember that you are awesome. Yes, you.

Thanks for reading this far!

Toodles~

Shmee