When Barry came home that evening, ahead of Iris who was kept late due to a conference, he found Wally sitting at the kitchen table over a bowl of macaroni and staring thoughtfully out the window. If he noticed his uncle entering, he did not show it. It wasn't until Barry began approaching the table that his nephew turned to look at him.

For a reason Barry couldn't quite place, he found himself rooted to where he stood. Wally looked him up and down, as if studying him carefully for the first time. Those green eyes settled on his uncle's face, eyes slightly narrowed in thought.

"Wally? Is everything okay?"

As if nothing had been amiss about his actions, the boy smiled.

"Yeah, just off in my own world for a second there."

Barry didn't feel any less uneasy.

"How was work?"

"It was alright, no serious break through on our case, unfortunately." Barry set his bag on the counter and began shrugging off his jacket. "What'd you get up to today?"

"Did you hear about Captain Cold? He tried robbing an armoured car today. It was on the news."

"Did he? I hadn't heard. Mustn't have been a big deal."

Barry was so used to this sort of super-villain-of-the-day smalltalk that lying about it had become natural. He wasn't as concerned about his nephew's interest in the daily news as he was about the fact that the boy was dodging his previous question.

"Oh it was. He and Mirror Master teamed up to do it."

With a humoured smile, Barry hung up his jacket in the closet and realized what the boy was getting at. It wasn't the super villains the boy was interested in, it was the hero who stopped them. It was always the hero.

"Did the Flash get 'em again?" Barry said, looking to help himself to the macaroni on the stove as he approached the kitchen a second time.

"Barely," said the boy, fixing his uncle with a stare. "They really gave the Flash a run for his money this time."

Now, the man was a little unsure of how to react to the boy's serious, probing tone – like he was trying to hint at something. Determined not to think of it as anything more than Wally being moody due to his recent family drama, Barry paid it little attention.

"Haha," he said teasingly, "I see what you did there. Punny."

"You know, sometimes I think the Flash could use a little help."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"I dunno. If one speedster can take a pair of super villains down in a minute, wouldn't it make sense to say that two speedsters could do it in half?"

"I guess so, but everyone knows Jay Garrick has retired. Besides, I think the Flash does fine on his own, he doesn't need to bother Jay."

"I wasn't talking about Jay."

The boy was staring again. Barry felt as if he was being examined.

"Did you know that both Jay Garrick and the current Flash got their super powers the same way? They were in a lab accident, identical ones, at different times."

Now, Barry was suspicious. That wasn't common knowledge. Granted, it wasn't a big secret either, it was just something the general public wasn't aware of.

"No, I didn't know that. How do you?"

"I do my homework," Wally said simply.

"I see."

Barry sat himself across from his nephew with his own bowl of mac and cheese. He thought to change the subject – possibly back to what Wally had been up to all day – when the boy cut him off quickly.

"I think it'd be cool if the Flash had a sidekick."

Barry almost choked on his food, managing to swallow it down without coughing up a lung, though it stung to do so.

"Really?" he croaked, hoping the boy had missed that display.

He hadn't.

"Yeah. Someone who could help him out – a third speedster."

"I don't think the Flash is the kind of guy who would handle having a sidekick all that well."

"Why not, Uncle Barry?"

"I don't know...it's just my gut feeling. Besides," Barry smiled despite his unease and managed to fake a lighthearted chuckle magnificently, "who could keep up with the Flash?"

"Well, it wouldn't be all that hard to recreate the experiment, right? It's happened twice already, it could happen again. I mean, some of the ingredients I've got in my chemistry kit, it'd be easy to-"

Barry suddenly stood. His own identity aside, it was now painfully clear was his nephew was hinting at. How much he knew was still a mystery, but that wasn't all that important. What was important was that the boy was talking about recreating Jay's experiment, which was dangerous and foolish and absolutely unacceptable.

"No. Wally." Barry said firmly. "Absolutely not. Don't go trying things like that. We don't even really understand how things happened to Jay and the Flash, you could get seriously hurt."

"But if I had help...maybe someone who'd done it before?"

"Wally, no. Even with someone to help, it's the stupidest thing I've ever-"

"Barry, I know."

Silence crashed down upon the room like a brick – heavy and sudden and with so much force it robbed the man of his breath. Wally stared, his expression earnest and his gaze unflinching. Barry stared back, eyes narrowed and managing to speak in an even tone.

"You know what?"

"I read your journal."

Without a word, Barry turned from the table and strode briskly into the hall. The entire way, he held his breath, forcing himself to move slowly – to look unalarmed. He was hoping he was wrong, that Wally had seen some different journal and was talking about something a little less dangerous. He burst into his bedroom, the rapid beating of his heart seeming to stop entirely at the sight of a familiar brown briefcase placed neatly on his bed. He crossed the room, lightheaded at the sight of the locks not properly shut. Feeling numb, the blonde pulled the lid of the case back. His journal was on the very top of the pile, the papers stacked neatly underneath.

"I want in, Barry."

Wally was standing in the doorway, looking as determined and imposing as a twelve year old could.

The man – the Flash, Uncle Barry – took a long breath in, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his forefinger. The rush of adrenaline had kicked him into hyper speed, and for a moment he was left staring at his unmoving nephew. His eyes shone with determination, a smug smile on his face like he knew he had won. That look, combined with this discovery, this violation of privacy, was infuriating.

Part of him wanted to rush him – show him just how dangerous, how unattainable – this lifestyle was. When Barry had gotten his powers, he hadn't anticipated the repercussions. Everything was so slow now. Time couldn't keep up with him, he was forced to wait. Wait and wait and wait for the world to drag along behind him. With age and experience, he'd gotten a handle on his speed and his patience, he could lead a life within relative normality – a life with Iris, who made slowing down worth more to him than all his power.

Someone like Wally – nevermind the fact that he was the son of Iris's brother, nevermind the fact that he was family – would not be able to adjust to that lifestyle. It would be torture. Not to mention, Barry didn't want to ever have to shoulder the guilt of putting someone through the same experience he had when he was younger. He didn't want to shoulder the responsibility of having been the cause of such a drastic change to someone's life. To a child's life.

To Wally.

As Barry took a breath in and forced his heartbeat to slow, he slowed himself as well, gradually letting time catch up to him. He continued to stare at his smug nephew, blissfully unaware that what had felt like only a second to him had felt much, much longer for his uncle.

"No," Barry said firmly a second time.

If Wally knew, then he knew. He trusted the kid, no matter how bull-headed and stupid he was being now. His identity wasn't in danger. However, he would not allow the kid to endanger himself with his foolish ideas. Wally didn't see it the same way, however, looking indignant as he approached the blonde man.

"What? Why?"

"No! No partners! I don't want the responsibility."

"But-"

"Absolutely not, Wallace. There's no discussing this."

Far too slowly for Barry's liking, he watched the boy's face change, looking crestfallen and hurt. He swallowed whatever sympathies and pity rose up instinctively and turned the boy around by the shoulders. He herded the child out the door.

"But Uncle Barry, I just want-"

"No. It doesn't matter. It's not happening. I don't want to hear any more about this. Absolutely nothing."

He shoved the kid out of their bedroom and promptly slammed the door behind him, the door whipping shut so quickly the sound was deafening. The boy didn't even have the time to turn and see it slam in his face.

Wally went home the next day.

"Wallace! Phone!"

Wally came thundering down the stairs at his father's stern call. The man stood there, looking unimpressed as his wild-haired son approached.

"Who is it?"

"That Grayson kid from Gotham."

The ginger's face lit up.

"Don't take too long. I don't want to see a ridiculous phone bill this month."

Normally, Rudolph's curt tone might have stung a little, but the boy was too elated to let himself be dragged down by his father's bad mood.

"Dick?"

"Wally!"

The boy felt weightless, trying to think back to the last time he'd seen his friend. Months, maybe?

"Hey!" he chirped, "where've you been, man?"

"Busy. But Mr. Allen was here the other day. He just kinda showed up unannounced and he and Bruce went to talk. Bruce didn't even let me come, which is odd 'cause...well, he usually does these days."

For some reason, Wally felt a twinge of jealousy. It was miniscule, so the boy shoved the flare of envy away to think about it later, when he could properly explain it.

"He also didn't bring you along, which was also unusual. I was just calling to make sure everything was okay."

The West boy hesitated, feeling his voice lock up in his throat.

He wasn't mad at Barry. Not anymore.

At first it had stung – hearing the anger in the man's voice, the slam of the door and his final words on the subject. The awkward silence the pair shared in the hours following was painful too. Iris tried to repair the damage when she got home – Barry told her everything – but at the time, Wally just couldn't find it in him to say he was wrong. He truly believed that the Flash could use a sidekick. He believed he was the best choice.

"Sweetheart, it's not that Barry doesn't want your help," his aunt had soothed, her warm hand on her Nephew's back. "But think of what you're saying. You're asking your uncle to willingly blow you up on the off chance that you might gain superpowers, only to endanger your life even more as a crimefighter."

Still hurt and unfailingly stubborn, Wally had simply glared ahead, refusing to see the logic in his aunt's words.

"Hun, we care about you too much to allow that. We don't want you to risk your life for something you don't need."

It had taken him days to stop being angry at Barry. It had taken him even longer to accept that maybe they had been right. Even so, Wally hadn't spoken to Barry since, and the past two weeks had been rough.

For the first week, his father outright avoided him. His mother said that he still felt guilty over what had happened. The boy was willing to believe this, and probably would've been glad for his father's guilt – because it meant he really did care. However, after that week's time had past, Rudy was right back to finding all the wrong things Wally was doing in a day and pointing them out. Loudly. Angrily.

Normally, after a fight with his father, Wally would call Aunt Iris's house and speak to whoever it was who answered. Most of the time it was just nice to hear soothing words – to hear an adult tell him that he hadn't been wrong, that he was a good kid. But still afraid to face his uncle, Wally had spent the past two weeks unwinding after a fight by running.

He would run from everything in his house, wishing to high heaven he could blur into nothing and just disappear. He was never running for the exercise anymore, he was running to put as much distance between himself and his family as he could. He would run until his lungs and legs could take no more, where he would collapse and heave and choke and cry, angry at himself more than anyone else.

"Wally?"

Dick's voice in his ear sounded concerned and snapped his elder friend back into the present.

"Hey, is everything okay?"

Wally felt his throat tighten.

"It's fine, no worries, buddy."

It'snotfineit'snotfineit'snotfine.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Hey, we should hang out sometime this week, you free?"

A guilty pause from the younger boy, and Wally felt no sadness – he'd expected the boy's answer.

"God, I wish I could, Wally. But things are a bit complicated here. I don't really have that much free time anymore. I promise though, as soon as I can we'll hang out, okay? I really want to."

"Okay."

"Honest, Wally, I really do. You have no idea what Bruce has been-"

Silence, but Wally didn't pry.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay, little buddy, just do what you gotta do. We'll see each other soon."

"Are you sure everything is alright with you? With Barry?"

"It's all good, Dick."

Wally could hear his father approaching from down the hall.

"Listen, buddy, I gotta go, dad wants the phone."

"Okay, I'll call again soon, I promise."

"Sure thing, bud. See you."

Wally hung up before he heard the goodbye, not having intended to be so abrupt but found himself guided by instinct. He was up the stairs before his father saw him, locked back in his room and seated on his bed, staring ahead in thought.

There, sitting along in a heavy silence, the truth settled over the youth like dust.

He couldn't keep up.

With Barry, the amazing, all-talented Barry, a hero, his uncle.

With Dick, growing up and seeming to gradually leave his friend in the dust no matter how he insisted that wasn't his intention.

With his father, whose expectations seemed far too high for someone like him to ever dream of reaching.

He felt slow. Agonizingly slow and unable to tell himself it would get better – that he could get through it as he was.

He wanted to run.

He wanted to be special, and he wanted to hear his father tell him that he was.

He wanted Barry to understand, understand that to Wally, it was worth the risk.

The boy's hands clenched into fists, his eyes narrowing as he bit back tears. He rose from his bed, finding his overnight bag and rummaging through the things he'd yet to unpack. At the bottom of his backpack was a paper, pencilled with scientific formulas and genetic combinations someone his age would not typically be able to understand.

The Flash's formula.

He crossed the room to his desk, setting the paper down and pulling out his advanced chemistry set – a gift given to him when he was ten for getting straight A's in school.

From Barry and Iris, of course.

He stared down at the set for quite a while, weighing the options in his head.

He knew his aunt and uncle didn't want him to try it. They didn't want him to get hurt. He understood this. He was glad for it.

But he couldn't just pass up this opportunity. He had a chance to be so much more, to be someone worth his father's attention – to be worth the world's attention. He could make a difference, he could leave all these troubles and heavy thoughts behind him, caught up in the wind and far too fast to be caught by anyone he didn't want to be caught by.

With his mind made up, he felt himself smile as he opened his kit.

When Barry came home from work that day, he found Iris on the couch in tears.

"Barry, there's been...there's been an accident..."

The woman wiped at her eyes, trying to steady her voice as her husband swept down to meet her, drawing her up in his arms even before he was truly sure what was wrong.

"It's Wally..."

Yeeaaaaaaboy!
WALLY DONE GOOFED. THE CONSEQUENCES WILL NEVER BE THE SAME.

Hello again everyone. Long time no see. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and thanks to those who are alerting/favouriting this. Pleasepleaseplease review, let me know what you think - no matter what your opinion is, I definitely want to hear it. Reviews are like, soul food for authors, as I'm sure a lot of you know.

FEED MY SOUL.

Or don't. Either way, you're all wonderful.

Thanks for reading this far!

Toodles~

Shmee