A/N: Again, way later than I intended. I said December, and you're getting February instead. However (and I know I'm not trustworthy) I hope to have another issue up before the one year mark in April. The plan is still to post monthly (at least) in the summer, so that should help the release schedule quite a bit! And just think. Someday you'll be able to read the entire story in one sitting, and hopefully enjoy all of it! XD

Heart of the Demons and Jess: Thanks for the kind words, and thank you for taking the time to drop a review!

Veronicadiall: I don't think that's really fair to either the TV show or this story, but yes, my take on Barry is reminiscent of the show's for a variety of reasons. 1) It successfully modernizes his character by making him three dimensional without ignoring his core Silver Age traits, 2) it's an origin story about a boy (so therefore less mature) becoming a man, and 3) even Silver Age Barry quipped. If the question is about my Barry being angsty…well, yes, but most modern superheroes are. It isn't strictly Raimi's take on Peter that is. Anyway, thanks for reviewing, and I do value your opinion, even if I don't necessarily agree with it. :)

Choco56: I will finish this story, no matter how long it takes me.

Anon: Glad you think so! The dialogue's been really fun to write!

...

THE FLASH: FIRST STEPS

Chapter 3 – Second Time's the Charm

Barry jerked awake, his heart racing he sat up. With the sudden motion came an enormous breath, as if he'd just been resuscitated. Christ, he thought, maybe he had been. Something had happened to him…something deadly. Light. Lightning. He'd been struck by lightning.

Tension in Barry's arms caught his attention. He looked around. An IV, a heart monitor, and a handful of other medical nodes and chords had been attached to his extremities. Slowly, the tension came undone as the chords ripped from their sources. Slowly…really slowly, Barry noticed. It seemed like everything was moving in slow motion.

Barry glanced at the heart monitor. It was the one device that had remained connected, probably because its only node was attached to his finger with plenty of slack on its chord. Even still, the heart monitor read as if his heart wasn't beating. The eerie ringing sound of a heart rate of zero beats per minute finally reached Barry's ears. Was he dead? Was he a ghost? Was that why everything was so slow?

Barry's heart felt like it was going to burst. No, he wasn't dead. He could feel his heart beating in his chest. Then what the hell was going on?

The door to the room began to inch open. Barry's eyes widened. He grew impatient as the eternity of waiting for the door to open lingered. His heartbeat slowed. He took deeper breaths. In walked a nurse, moving at regular speed.

She appeared frantic at first, but her anxiety was quickly replaced by mixed excitement and relief when she noticed Barry appeared to be fine. She hurried over to his side and checked his pulse with his wrist. The heart monitor had begun to display 58 bpm. The nurse grew continuously more relaxed. There wasn't a problem.

"Barry…Mr. Allen, you're awake." She looked around at the mess Barry had apparently caused. "What happened?"

"I…I woke up," Barry admitted. Wait, something was wrong. Something was different. His heartbeat quickened.

"We're going to need to—"

As the nurse spoke, she and the rest of the world seemed to slow around Barry. He didn't care. His legs—they felt different. He lifted up the covers, nearly tearing them, and looked down at his legs. They were still thin, yes, but there was definition. Muscle. They tingled. In fact, his whole body did.

Barry reset the blanket and looked up at the nurse, finally noticing the world had slowed down. He frowned. Before, he had taken a few deep breaths and the world had returned to regular speed. Could it be…?

Barry was a scientist after all, so he tested his hypothesis. He slowed his breathing and his heart rate, and inversely the world picked up its pace.

"—n a few tests, just to see—"

"Sorry." Barry blinked, feigning exhaustion. In truth, he felt more alive than ever. "What?"

The nurse smiled reassuringly and repeated, "We'll need to run a few tests to make sure you're okay, and we might need to keep you in the hospital overnight, but—"

"Run the tests," Barry said, suddenly overcome with a desire to try something.

He slid his legs over the side of the bed. Worry that his thoughts, his theories, his feelings were wrong crept into his mind. The nurse began to move to stop him, but he had already pushed himself off the bed. Barry stood up, and he did not fall.

"Oh my God," the nurse muttered, stepping back. "I know your medical records back to front. You…you shouldn't be able to stand. It's…"

Barry turned around, and planted his hands on his hips.

Smiling, he said, "I know. It's impossible."

…

Henry's jaw dropped when he heard the news. He made the doctor swear to him over and over that it was true, that this wasn't a joke. He pinched himself. He legitimately pinched himself because he thought he was dreaming. Barry was not only awake—he could walk.

"How...?" Henry wondered, staring at the door to his son's room.

The doctor frowned. "Honestly, I'm not entirely sure. My best guess— and I want to clarify that this is entirely ludicrous and should not be taken seriously—is that the lightning somehow jump started and enhanced the natural healing processes of your son's body, allowing his nervous system to recover in a way it never had before. It might also explain why his burns healed so quickly. Perhaps the coma helped. A long resting state may have allowed his body to focus on recovery."

Henry dazedly took the doctor's hand in his own and gently shook it. "Thank you. Thank you for everything you've done."

"Mr. Allen, it was my pleasure." The doctor's face lit up with a smile. "It's not every day you get to witness a miracle, particularly in my profession."

Henry offered a tiny smile back, before stumbling to his son's room. He still couldn't believe it. When he opened the door…

Barry stood up to greet his father. Tears immediately flooded Henry's eyes. The two embraced, smiling and laughing.

"My boy! My sweet, wonderful boy!" Henry sobbed.

"I always told you," Barry sniffed back tears, "Nothing's impossible."

"You were right! Thank God, you were right!" Henry held his son back, looking him over. "The doctors cleared you. You can go home."

Barry nodded. "They told me just before you came."

Henry wiped tears out of his eyes, steadied himself, and then said, "Well, what are we waiting for?"

…

"I, uh, called a friend to come take you home. I hope you don't mind," Henry said as he rolled Barry out of the hospital in a wheelchair.

It wasn't one of the former cripple's favorite policies, especially now, but they wouldn't let him leave without it.

"That's fine. You have work?" Barry asked, standing up after his father stopped.

Henry nodded. "Came straight here from the precinct when I got the news. Would've taken the rest of the day off, but Joe needs me for a case."

"Anything I can do to help?" Barry wondered.

"No. No, you take the day off. And the weekend, too," Henry said.

"It's Friday?"

"Yes." Henry frowned, realizing, "That's right. You don't know what the date is."

"It's hot, really hot," Barry noted, "So it's probably the summer. All things considered, I was out, what, three months?"

"Almost exactly," Henry admitted. He looked at his son, but Barry appeared to be handling the news well. He hadn't stopped smiling since they had left the hospital.

Barry noticed his father's gaze, and said, "Relax, Dad. I'm taking this in stride. After all, I can't complain. I can walk. I can actually walk. That alone is perfect, but, I mean, I still have my job, right?"

"Yes. The CCPD couldn't fire you for obvious reasons," Henry said.

"Number one being my hero dad?" Barry joked.

"Lawsuits, actually. What happened to you was a freak accident, and you couldn't be blamed for it," Henry said, paused, and then playfully added, "But yes, your hero dad as well."

A blue van slowly appeared at the edge of the lot, and began to make its way toward the two. Both men caught sight of the vehicle, and came to the same conclusion.

"Is this the guy?" Barry asked.

"I think so," Henry said.

Barry glanced at his father. "You think so? Who exactly did you call?"

"Max Mercury."

"What?" Barry exclaimed. The car was half a minute away, cutting off others, who honked, as it neared the entrance.

"I know you said that he was abrasive and cold—that he didn't like you—but he visited day after day while you were in the hospital," Henry explained. Barry resisted the urge to scream 'what' again. His father continued, "In fact, he might have been by your side when you'd woken up if he hadn't had a…I think it was a tribal party. A ceremony. Something like that."

"Max—my roommate Max—came to visit me every day?" Barry wondered incredulously.

"Nearly every day," Henry clarified. "I talked to him. He certainly was a little…outspoken, but he seemed to like you, and, maybe most of all, he seemed to feel guilty."

The van pulled up at the curb. Barry looked between it and his father. The shotgun side window rolled down.

Max Mercury peered out from the driver's seat, "You coming, Barry, or not?"

"This is a dream. I am dreaming, right?" Barry whispered to his father, who motioned him onwards.

"Thanks, Max," Henry said, waving.

"No problem, Detective. The apartment's kind of on my way," Max dryly quipped.

Henry lightly chuckled at the joke, and began to walk off as Barry opened up the car door and got in.

"Rest up, Barry. And thank you again, Max!" Henry said.

"Bye, Dad," Barry replied. Max merely offered a slight wave.

Once his father was out of sight and Max had rolled up the window, Barry said, "You notice anything different about me?"

"Your father told me. Congratulations, Barry, you can walk like a normal person," Max coolly remarked.

Barry rolled his eyes. It turned out Max wasn't that different. "Thanks for the support."

"Anytime."

Silence fell over the car as Max pulled out of the hospital parking lot and began the drive toward their apartment. Barry looked out the window, glanced at Max, and then redirected his gaze to the cracked gray street. Max cleared his throat and reached for the radio's power button. As he did so, Barry spoke up.

"My dad said you visited me."

Max froze, returned his hand to the wheel, and said, "Yeah."

"Thanks," Barry said.

Silence. Max flicked on the radio. Country music blared through the speakers. Barry looked at Max, amused. The STAR Labs techie blushed and turned it off.

"There have been some…developments in the impossible case," Max blurted.

Barry cocked an eyebrow. "Really?"

He hadn't even thought about it since he had woken up. Of course there would have been advancements in the case. It had been three months.

"Yeah, there was another victim," Max explained. "Same MO. According to your father, the cops think, for obvious reasons, that it's the same perp."

"…That's it?" Barry wondered, admittedly disappointed.

"Mostly. The commissioner is freaking out. No new clues, no new leads, nothing. Only two people are dead, so news coverage has been contained, but it's only gonna get worse until we catch this guy," Max said. "There's some good news. We have reason to believe the impossible is possible, that your theory might be accurate."

Barry nodded him on.

"You, for starters, but there's more. Pictures of Gotham's Batman have surfaced online, and Metropolis…" Max shook his head in disbelief. "They have a guy who can fly, pick up trains, and shoot lasers from his eyes—a Super-Man. He did an interview with the Daily Planet. The impossible…it's all possible now."

"I knew it! I'd read the stories about Metropolis' hero, Gotham's Caped Crusader, Gateway's Wonder—" Barry paused, tilting his head slightly, "Wait, Wonder Woman is real, right?"

Max shrugged, "There are rumors of more…enhanced individuals. Good, bad, in between."

Barry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He knew it. He'd always known it. The impossible was real. Maybe that could explain what he'd experienced in the hospital and his newfound ability to walk. Maybe, just maybe it would explain his mother's murder.

…

Barry tapped his foot repeatedly, slowly picking up speed, as he sat on the couch in his living room, watching TV.

"Switch to AT+T and receeeeiiiiiii—"

Heart racing, Barry smelled smoke. He looked down, only to discover his tapping had begun a small carpet fire. He hurried up out of his seat and over to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He pulled on the faucet handle, only to break it. Water burst out in a slow stream. Barry cursed and looked back at the carpet fire. It was spreading just a tad faster than the water was soaring toward him.

Barry sighed and ran over to the living room couch. He tossed a blanket from the couch onto the fire, and then patted it down. When the fire was put out, he used the blanket to stop the stream of water before it reached the stove. Both problems solved, he took a few deep breaths, calming himself, and the world returned to its proper speed.

The blanket was growing wetter by the second, so Barry looked around for a more permanent solution. He spotted a wine plug on the counter and used it to block the spout. Massaging his forehead, Barry looked between the burnt carpet and the clogged faucet.

Great. Just great. He would have some explaining to do to Max.

Suddenly, it hit Barry yet again. He was standing, running—let alone at super speed. He couldn't sit still, not now. Forget what the doctors said. He needed to go out and explore. It was a brand new world, full of impossible possibilities.

With that thought, Barry grabbed tennis shoes and headed out the door, making sure to remain calm enough that he didn't trigger his new gift.

…

When Barry reached the park, the sun had begun to set. As it was early Summer and therefore quite warm, if not yet blisteringly hot, in Central City, only a few homeless men and stragglers remained in the enormous park, leaving Barry to his devices. He wanted to go on a run, but not just any run. He hadn't been imagining things in the hospital or at his apartment. He was fast. Super fast.

Barry began with a slow jog, and quickly transitioned into a casual run, then a full on sprint. His feet pounding against the sidewalk pavement, his heart rate grew exponentially until it was off the scale. While Barry's perception of the world remained relatively in sync with how he felt his body was moving, in actuality he began to run so fast anyone looking at him would see but a blur. Winds picked up after him, the ground began to scorch slightly underneath his feet—

-His feet?!

"Crap," Barry muttered, attempting to stop.

He stumbled, the force of his momentum sending him crashing to the ground. He sat up and looked down at his shoes, or rather what remained of his shoes. Circles of mesh material disintegrated off his ankles.

Smoke. There was the smell again. He looked down at his shirt, only to discover it was on fire. Tugging it off, Barry crawled back a few steps. He took a deep breath, returning to normal speed, and stood up.

As he watched his shirt burn, the honest reality of his situation sunk in.

'It turns out I have a lot to learn. This gift isn't without consequences. I need help before I get someone hurt. I need STAR Labs.'

…

"You're joking. This is a joke, right? You have to be joking," Max stammered as he led Barry, who had since put on a new T-shirt and pair of shoes, down to the main labs, "When you called me, I thought—"

"'He has to be joking.' Yeah, I got it the first twenty times," Barry playfully remarked.

"For real, though. When I said you were impossible, I just meant waking up, walking—all of that was impossible. That wasn't an invitation to, like, spontaneously get superpowers," Max continued.

"It wasn't spontaneous," Barry argued, but upon further thought decided, "Actually, I guess it happened at supersonic speed. Lightning literally struck me."

"You are the goddamn luckiest man alive," Max muttered.

"Ryan Reynolds begs to differ," Barry joked, as the doors to the main lab slid open before them.

As it turned out, Chess was waiting for them, standing at the door. Max jumped back a step in surprise at the young man's sudden appearance.

"Barry!" Chess excitedly exclaimed.

"Jesus, Chess. Don't ever do that again," Max grumbled, shaking his head.

Chess ignored him, and followed Barry into the room. "Max told us everything. You're super fast! How cool is that?! Uh, let me tell you—mega cool!"

"On a coolness scale from one to ten, you're easily a Samuel L. Jackson," Chess continued, only to be interrupted by Gehenna.

"Take a deep breath, Chess, and give Barry some room," she chided, grinning at the police scientist.

The blond offered a smile in thanks, before looking around the lab. It was as he remembered it, except for two things. The Blackout Generator had been shut down—he could guess why—and Dr. Elias was nowhere to be found. Barry tilted his head to the side, confused.

"Where's Dr. Elias?" he asked.

"Out. He'll be here soon," Gen explained. A hint of mischief crept over her lips as she continued, "Now, Barry, whatever shall we do until he arrives?"

"Ew. Gross. I'm so outtie," Chess interjected.

"She meant we should test him, you idiot," Max retorted, massaging his temple.

Chess blushed. "Oh. Right. Yeah, let's get on that…poor choice of words?"

Barry laughed, and soon enough Gehenna joined in. Realizing the two were good-naturedly laughing with him, Chess followed their example. Max merely groaned.

"I swear to God, I wonder sometimes…"

…

"Good afternoon, Mr. Allen," Elias called as he entered the lab.

Barry slowed to a super fast jog on a high tech treadmill as Chess continued to examine data streaming from nodes on the speedster's chest. Gehenna and Max looked up from the tablet in her hands, one that, in particular, read bio signs.

"Hey," Barry greeted, pleasantly surprised by Elias' more outgoing behavior. He glanced questioningly at Gen, who didn't notice his confusion.

"Dr. Elias, Barry's readings are literally off the charts. He was explaining that the hospital's heart monitor read his heart rate as zero beats per minute, and here's why." Gen handed her boss the tablet, which Elias carefully scanned.

"His heart's beating faster than any monitor can read. His body functions at super speed, and the effect is triggered by adrenaline. He can obviously walk." Elias nodded as he read. He looked up at Barry. "His brain?"

The 'patient' jumped in, "It's a little slower than my body, but it mostly keeps up."

"When he reaches speeds that exceed 1000 miles per hour, his brain struggles to absorb information as quickly as he receives it," Max explained.

"That's something to work on," Elias noted, looking over the tablet data again.

"And Doc? Check this out." Max grabbed a small needle from the table beside him and used it to prick Barry's face as he ran.

"Ow. Give me a warning next time," the blond muttered, to which Max rolled his eyes.

Only a single drop of blood managed to escape the wound, as it healed nearly immediately.

"Fascinating," Elias whispered.

"I know, right!" Chess exclaimed, finally looking up.

Elias forced a smile, handed Gen her tablet, and approached Barry. "How are you doing, Mr. Allen?"

"You can call me Barry," the blond began, glancing at Gehenna again. "And I'm great. Really great."

"Wonderful," Elias happily said.

Max was the first to pick up on Barry's confusion, and addressed it directly. "Relax, Barry. Doc's just worried you're gonna sue. This isn't Invasion of the Body Snatchers."

"Mr. Missichkonne, I don't know what you're talking about," Elias quickly interjected.

Barry turned off the treadmill and slowed to a regular walk. "Dr. Elias, you don't have to worry about anything. I'm not going to sue you. If anything, I should thank you. The accident was scary, yeah, and it took away three months of my life, but I can walk now. More than that, I can run. I'm the fastest man alive."

"Egomaniac," Max coughed.

"'Fastest man alive...?'" Chess muttered, before exclaiming, "That's perfect! That's the tag line."

All eyes focused on him. Chess looked back blankly at the others one by one. "What? Barry's going to become a superhero. We were all thinking it."

"Ramon…" Elias began, struggling for the right words. He sighed and shook his head. "Never mind."

He turned to Barry. "Thank you for that, Barry. Your father never personally contacted me, but after this…"

He snagged a remote from a nearby table and turned on one of four TV monitors on the northern wall of the room. After typing in '5' for Channel 5 news, a blonde reporter appeared on the screen. The headline below her read 'ONCE-CRIPPLED POLICE SCIENTIST WAKES UP FROM COMA AND CAN WALK.'

"—Barry's father, Detective Henry Allen, has refused to comment on his son's miraculous recovery—"

"It's everywhere," Elias explained. Upon Barry's continued shock, he said, "I guess no one bothered to tell you. You're famous, Barry. The whole city's been following your story. It's the worst publicity in the history of STAR Labs. We had to fire half our employees from this branch, and almost one hundred more around the world."

"My God…" Barry muttered.

"You can understand my concern," Elias finished. "If your case were to go to court, the Central City division would certainly be demolished, my work destroyed, and the history of STAR Labs forever tainted."

No one bothered to speak for a while as the words sunk in. The silence slowly driving him mad, Chess tossed his tablet to the side and ran into an adjacent room, leaving the others to look after him in confusion. A few moments later, he ran back in carrying a pair of black boots.

"On a much brighter note, here are shoes you can actually wear while you run that won't burn away," Chess said, handing Barry the boots. As the blond looked them over, he continued, "They're mostly friction-proof. Been a pet project of mine for a while. They were designed for firemen and soldiers who might be caught in, y'know, explosive situations."

He motioned back at the other room, "There's a suit too, but it's, uh, not really for casual use. If you wanna be a superhero, though…"

Barry frowned. Chess nodded.

"Or just pretend I never said that," he mumbled, turning away.

"Until I figure out how to handle this…don't tell anyone, okay?" Barry requested, looking up at Elias. "It's the least you could do, right?"

Elias nodded. "Of course."

Barry extended his hand to the scientist. "Thank you, Dr. Elias."

The older man eyed Barry's hand for a moment, before shaking it. "You're welcome."

"Well," Barry slapped the boots together and stepped off the treadmill, "I need to go home before my dad checks in on me. I'll see you there, Max. Bye, and thanks again."

He waved as he began to leave the lab.

"See ya there," Max said.

"Bye, Barry," Gen and Chess said simultaneously.

Elias merely nodded in farewell.

…

Jefferson Cleaver shivered as he hurried down the sidewalk toward to his urban home. While the sun had set, the weather was dry and warm. Jeff wasn't cold; he was afraid.

Looking this way and that, he didn't notice as a man approached him from the front.

"Jeff!"

The terrified man yelped in surprise, and nearly tripped back onto his rear. However, he discovered the voice's source was none other than a man he recognized, someone he knew all too well: Henry Allen.

"Jeff," Henry eyed him worriedly, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," the man replied, quickly shaking his head as if to ward off Henry's questions.

Henry frowned, but continued nonetheless, "I forgot you lived around here. My son, he's just down the block. I guess great minds think alike."

"Yeah," Jeff said, glancing around. He tried to walk past Henry, but the man stopped him.

"Hey, are you sure you're okay? I haven't seen you in blue in months," Henry said.

"I said I'm fine," Jeff grunted, pulling away from Henry. He rushed off, leaving his friend to watch him go.

Just a short half minute later that felt like hours to Jeff, he reached his home. Shaking, he struggled to insert his key into the lock, but did at last, and unlocked the front door. Opening it, he looked down the street, carefully checking for a particular someone or something. Convinced he was alone, he shut the door, and took a deep breath, relieved. Then, he turned around, and screamed.

A red-cloaked figure slammed him into the door, knocking the key out of his hand.

"I swear—I swear I told them nothing. I just wanted out," Jeff stammered, crying.

The cloaked figure produced a golden knife with a blade shaped like a lightning bolt, and raised it. Jeff whispered 'no' repeatedly and began to hyperventilate as the figure spoke.

"Our god requires your sacrifice, Jefferson William Cleaver. Die for the Lightning!"

SHINK!

…

Please review!

'Til next time, True Believers!

-Drake