Interlude: Mary West

AN: I am so sorry, guys. It's been a busy week, and Thursday night I was almost done with the chapter when I realized that I really didn't want to do the next scene that way, and that I needed to start totally over. So yeah, I'm buying myself another week with an interlude. Sorry again. Hope this makes you need tissues.

XxXxX

"No, no, no, no, no!"

Glass scratches her fingers as she tries to put the picture frame back together. That just makes it worse as blood begins to stain the photo, as tears make the watercolors of the hand-panted Best Mommy Ever frame-heading run. This flusters her more, because Wally gave this to her, his precious art project that he made just for her, and now it's broken and the glass has torn one of the too-few pictures she has of her and her baby boy together.

She finally just gives up, leaning back against the wall and scrubbing at her face, as if this will make the tears stop. She knows all too well that it will not.

"Mary?" No, Rudy can't be home yet, he can't see her like this; they've been doing so well, but now she broke his picture frame and it won't go back together.

"Oh, Sweetheart." He's suddenly sliding down to sit beside her, pulling her into his arms, rubbing circles on her back. "It'll be okay."

"It's not okay!" The words have more bite behind them than she means. Bless her husband, her other half, for never holding that against her during these… episodes.

"I know." He doesn't expand upon his dull words. Instead, he simply continues holding her and rubbing her back.

Rudy has never been overly emotional. He's her quiet man, her rock, her anchor from the worries of this world. Even so, she knows that the chain that keeps them moored is taught, ready to snap under the sustained pressure it has been subjected to ever since they lost their Little Light. She can see it in her husband's eyes, the way they glaze over ads for graduations and weddings and baby clothes. She hears it in his voice when he can't quite congratulate their friends for their children's accomplishments. She feels it, in the dead of night, when the silent sobs that sometimes still wrack his body wake her, and all she can do is hold him close. That's why she tries not to do this. He's trying so hard to be there for her that he can't be strong for himself.

"He'd be glad you did it, and not him, so he wouldn't have to be lectured about slowing down in the house." She wants to laugh as she remembers the way Wally would gloat over not being the klutz for once. It comes out more like a choking cough. Still, that's progress, and she'll take it, for Rudy's sake.

She doesn't mention how easily the past tense came off of her husband's tongue. That's something they never talk about. She wonders if he feels guilty, the way she does, when she doesn't trip up. When she doesn't start to speak in the present tense, or set a third place at the table, or marvel at her grocery bill.

When she sees Kid Flash on the news and doesn't think for even a second that it's not Bart.

Eventually, she's able to speak. It's on a different subject, like always.

"The Twins' birthday is coming up," she manages to get out. "Iris sent over the invitation today. You can get off work early?"

"With this much notice? Of course."

Their niece and nephew are spoiled rotten, in no small part thanks to their own efforts. Mary reasons that it's only fair for them to play the doting grandparents. The twins might be the closest they'll ever have to grandchildren, after all, if Artemis doesn't begin to move on soon. Besides, they have to make up for Wally not being there to get them into his own kind of trouble.

"It will be nice to see everyone. I think Barry's even trying to get in contact with Artemis."

"She'll be staying with us?"

"I assume so, unless something drastic has changed since the last time she came home."

"I better get a move on fixing the fan in her room, then. She'll never get to sleep with the clanking it's been making lately."

Calling Wally's old room her room is the only change that has felt natural. She's their daughter, even if it will never be official, and she spends most of the nights she's in this dimension here with them. Mary loves it when she does; it makes their home feel a little less broken. Seeing the pain on the girl's face when faced with her son's old things even gave her the strength to move most of them into storage so that the room would be less of a reminder of their loss. She and Rudy weren't quite strong enough to do it themselves, but Barry and Hal didn't seem to mind. She keeps the key to the storage unit on a clip in her purse, where she could take it and go down to see Wally's things at any time she wants. It's a perfectly legitimate thing to do, she tells herself. It's not a crutch.

It's easier to tell herself these things when she has superheroes to compare herself to.

She doesn't mean to pry, but she knows Artemis stopped paying for her and Wally's flat after his death. As far as Mary can tell, Artemis went back to the place one final time to grab their dog and Wally's favorite jersey, and never looked back. It's only through a hacked bank re-routing and Dick's stubborn refusal to let the place be sold that the flat has remained untouched. No one says anything about it though, because Wally and Dick were best friends. He has the money to rent the flat indefinitely. Who are they to tell him that he has to let go?

Out of all of them, though, Bart is probably the worst. Everyone knows Wally died for the world, but that it was specifically for him. She thinks that's why Bart comes to visit them so often. He does little chores for them, brings up corny jokes, steals their junk food… It breaks her heart, how hard he's trying to make it up to them. She does her best to welcome him with cookies, invitations to stay over, cut out articles of Kid Flash's latest heroics – whatever it takes for the boy to understand that they don't blame him, and that he shouldn't blame himself. She thinks this only makes him feel guiltier, and that maybe it's the reason he's been spending more and more time at her son's old flat instead of with them. She wants to tell him, 'Come back! We don't blame you! He died for you so that we could love you too!' but she can't ever make the words come.

"Come on, Lovey. We'll bandage up your hands, and then we can go start looking at gifts for out little dust devils, right?"

"…Yeah. That's... a good idea. Thank you." Her voice gains conviction as celebratory thoughts make the lost picture frame seem just a little less devastating. "You should see the guest list she emailed me. It's going to be one hell of a party."

"Is that so? I can't wait to see who all shows up."

He holds out his hand to help her stand up, and for a while the pain stops and she can focus on buying gifts and being excited about the toddlers' birthday.