Doll House – End
…
…
Everything happened exceedingly slowly after that. At least to Barry.
With the lightening back in his bones, there was nothing the speedster wanted than to go running but Batman insisted he get checked out at the med bay. Not a strange request considering the piss poor condition he came to them in.
But the speedforce was an efficient beast and the moment it had access to Barry's battered and bruised body, it got to work patching him back together. Besides a few internal injuries and bone fractures, he was already looking as good as new within the first four hours. The time passed slowly and it might have been the longest night of Barry's life – but he dared not try to sleep.
Not when he had Hal at his side at all times, demanding and questioning everything until Barry felt his voice going raw with just how much he had to say. Batman was there for the bear minimum, making himself scarce once he had enough information and Barry would have chased him up had he not been so occupied fending off Hal's questions.
He knew that this aggressive display of concern was just Hal's way of coping with stress and guilt. Barry had to reassure him quickly that he was perfectly alright. Except when he began to try, his throat closed up and his chest tightened. He was not alright and they knew it, so Hal – in a surprisingly mature effort – told Barry he could take his time. He'd stay and help him out until he was ready to speak honestly.
After that it was impossible to stop talking.
"Jesus, Bear." Hal muttered after the story more or less ended. Some details left out but the overall idea given. "You should have said something."
"What was I supposed to say? Hey Hal, come stop being a hero in space? It scares the hell out of me when you vanish?" Barry tossed Hal a bemused look to show he wasn't trying to be bitter with the comment. "It just doesn't work like that."
The pair of them were still sitting in the med bay despite Barry's hasty recovery. Hal had brought him a coffee, which usually would be cause for a joke about Barry not needing caffeine, but he definitely need it right now.
In the bed by the side of the two conversing heroes, Noire was fast asleep. Batman had reassured Barry quickly that Noire just needed to rest after having been exposed to some sort of magic the Crooked Man left for him. He added as an after thought that had he or Hal looked into the strange inky substance the Crooked Man built his world in – they might very well be in a condition similar to Noire's. Barry remembered quite vividly how terrible he'd felt after he'd gotten caught staring into it himself. Of course he'd had a different Batman there to pull him through it.
Those Bats. Always there to give a helping hand – grumpiness be damned.
Barry couldn't help but occasionally find himself staring at the sleeping kid. Hal must have noticed it as well but rather than toss out something teasing, the green lantern remained silent for the most part.
They'd swapped stories between one another, Hal telling Barry about the small nightmare that had been working with Batman and Black while Barry explained the game he'd played. At the end of it all, both came away feeling a little bit uneasy. Like they didn't quite understand one another as well as they thought they first did.
Noire being anything but bitterly pleased with Barry being gone was a difficult concept in itself but if Barry really stopped to think about what he'd learnt. About Noire, about Bruce – about himself. Maybe it wasn't so unusual.
The boy needed plenty of rest now; Barry didn't dare disturb him knowing that once he was awake they'd talk. Maybe they'd scream again, maybe that wasn't the worst it could have been.
He'd wanted to protect Noire from the same fears and pains he'd experienced as a child but he'd unwittingly brought them all right to Noire's doorstep. The man who killed his mother was alive and thanks to Batman – now spending some quality time at Arkham. They had briefly discussed moving him to Iron Heights; he had attacked Flash in Central City after all.
But Barry couldn't refuse fast enough. The man was a native to Gotham and if he were to stay here…. Well Barry could practically feel Captain Cold's gun training on him for it one day.
Say what you would about a Rogue – they always looked out for their own.
Arkham hadn't seen a reformed patient in its life as far as Barry knew, but maybe they could find something for the Crooked Man. Barry tried to hold out some hope that the man might at least never harm another person. Not before Batman was done examining what had happened to the man to make him what he was.
How a seemingly human man had come to exist the way CM did, even Bats was lost for an immediate answer. Barry hadn't found one in his travels either. His optional story content had been seriously lacking – last time he ever bought into DLC.
"How can you look so awake?" Hal asked eventually, sounding plenty tired in his own right. Barry didn't feel very energetic. Cooped up and bursting with the feel of the speedforce back in his veins – yes. But energetic? Not so much. He felt very much like he'd gone through the wringer.
So he laughed, a small disbelieving chuckle that seemed answer enough for Hal. "More coffee then I take it?" He mused with a small smirk on his face. Barry tossed him an exceedingly thankful expression. But when Hal stood to get it, Barry stopped him.
"Let me, need to stretch my legs a little." Barry said as he eased his sore, sorry self out of the uncomfortable med bay chair. Only to pause and look over at Noire's sleeping form. The kid looked a lot less angry when he was sleeping. Hal caught the glance.
"Go." He said simply, still wearing that faintly taunting expression. "I'll watch sleeping beauty. Won't let him sleep walk outta here – promise."
And Barry's nerves relaxed. Trusting Hal to keep an eye on Noire without incident – if the boy was awake he'd be more concerned – Barry head out of the room in search of a coffee machine.
It felt good to be back on the base. Felt like a relief to be in a place that felt solid – real. No hundreds of disappointing doors or replicas waiting to hurt him in some way. Just Hal and a coffee machine.
For what felt like the hundredth time, Barry let out a heavy sigh. Equal parts relief and exhaustion. Sometimes he worried it would suddenly shift, worried that it was all an elaborate ploy from the Crooked Man on his final level to see what Barry might do when he thought he was safe again.
He was still entertaining the thought when someone clapped him on the back, causing Barry to startle violently, very nearly smashing the coffee pot over the unannounced person's head.
Only for his hand to be stopped at superspeed by a larger, unyielding hand – incidentally moving at the same speed.
"Easy, easy." A calming voice told him gently. "Just me, Flash."
"Good god Supes." Barry sighed, still jittery with anxiety. "You scared the hell out of me."
Superman smiled at him in that benevolent way of his.
"My apologies, you seemed distracted. I should have spoken up." Barry was very thankful that Superman was fast or they'd be in need of a new coffee pot.
Not to worry, Batman probably had ten more stashed away somewhere. It always seemed like he had back ups of everything. God forbid they run out of anything in space. Barry had often idly wondered if Bruce would have an aneurysm should something like a lack of toilet paper actually better him. For the sake of their safety – Barry dared not try and see.
"How are you holding up?" Clark ventured and Barry wasn't sure if he was sick of that yet – having people assess his mental state. He knew it would wear on him fast but Barry did appreciate it.
"Well, worse things have happened to me." He answered vaguely. It was true but hardly comforting.
Superman was rather giving with the way he simply smiled sympathy and did not push for a more in depth answer. He was more moral support while Bruce was more logic support. If Superman thought something had to be pried out of Barry he'd let Batman do it.
So maybe he wasn't as generous as Barry gave him credit for.
"Actually, I wanted to ask you something." Barry said, turning to properly face Clark.
"Oh?" Permission enough in Barry's mind.
"Yeah, do you think Batman lies to us a lot?" Already he could see the discomfort setting in on Clark's face. His usually smiling lips turned down slightly and there was a familiar furrow between his brows as they drew together.
Barry backtracked.
"What I mean to say is – does it bother you? Like, I trust Bats – I do, seriously. With my life and all that. But sometimes he's not very forthcoming, not open. Like…at all. I just- Does it bother you? Should it bother you? I don't know, sometimes I just wonder-"
"Barry." Superman cut across his babbling smoothly, a gentle smile on his face again. The kind a mother might give to an anxious child to calm them. "You trust Bruce."
"I do." Barry confirmed, a little disgruntled with the direction this was going.
He knew that it was silly to doubt their teammate. They trusted him with their lives, their secret identities – pretty much everything. Superman had given him a chunk of kryptonite for god's sake! Trust was very clearly not the problem.
"Then you know you can just ask him." That wasn't exactly what Barry had expected Clark to say. "Bruce is stubborn. To the point of lunacy honestly. He's also terribly self sacrificing and a touch paranoid." When Clark said 'a touch' it sounded suspiciously like he meant 'a lot'.
"So sometimes he keeps secrets. I don't think it's malicious or because he doesn't trust us – it's his way to protect us. He is Batman after all, working alone and in the shadows – bearing the weight of the world? That's sort of his MO. It's just how he functions."
Barry was once again struck by just how well Superman knew the Bat. By just how closely he regarded the man's actions and feelings – Batman was no different. He and Superman knew one another practically inside out. Barry was always somewhat humbled – and admittedly a little unnerved – by that connection.
Again Superman smiled, laying a gentle pat on Barry's shoulder.
"If you have something to ask him – do it. He'll tell you, or at the very least he'll tell you why he won't. After that the rest comes down to bargaining." Well they all knew that getting information out of Bruce wasn't easy – no secret to that one.
Barry fell silent, looking downwards in thought. He remembered the Batman he'd met in the game. The story he told, about his world, about the Harlow brother's mother. Barry wasn't sure how much of it applied to their Bruce but if any of it did – was Batman really keeping it to himself?
He remembered the other Bruce's downturned gaze, the softly spoken words and in the midst of chaos as the stage changed – an apology. The things he said to the fragment Lacie – the things he'd felt burdened by.
Yes – Barry decided – yes, his Bruce would be keeping it to himself. It would be hurting him and Bruce wouldn't utter a word about it.
"Thanks Supes." Barry smiled gratefully and Clark seemed to relived to have helped him find the answer he was looking for.
"Make sure to get some rest." Clark advised, ever the mother hen. "There's no harm in taking some time off. I'm sure Bruce would be more than happy to give you some off league time."
"Honestly I just want to get back into the swing of it." Barry said, horrified by the thought of doing nothing for any stretch of time. But then he thought about Noire and Barry paused. "Maybe a day or two. Just to get my head straight." He decided and Clark beamed – glad that Barry was taking his health into consideration.
More than anything Barry just wanted to stay with familiar faces. If Hal was on planet and Noire was willing to be within the same house as him – Barry wanted to make the most of it.
"If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask." Clark told him just before the pair parted way. Barry with the pot of fresh coffee in hand and Clark towards what Barry guessed was the control room. He had an inkling that he was off to see the Bat.
Barry would wait and give Bruce some space. It seemed he needed it right now as he agonized over how the Crooked Man came to exist without his knowledge. But he wouldn't get too much space – Barry wasn't going to let his secrets fester inside him. Bruce might not like being helped but Barry wasn't going to give him the gosh darn choice.
Smiling at the thought Barry head back to the med bay, only to catch the sound of conversation as he neared the door. Now Barry didn't like to think of himself as a spy, but he did slow his steps, taking care to be a little quieter than before as he approached the room. He could hear Hal talking – but just Hal.
"Jesus kid." He was saying, voice scratchy with exhaustion. He masked it a little better when talking to Barry. "Not sure what you'll think when you get up. You're probably going to swear up a storm – Barry never could teach you outta that potty mouth."
Hal chuckled and then fell silent for a few seconds. As if he was thinking about something and despite the uneasy feeling in Barry's chest, he didn't try to enter the room just yet. He was rewarded for his cautiousness.
"I…I'd understand if you want to kill him." Hal confessed quietly. "I thought about it. Shouldn't 'av. I know. But…he had Barry. It must have been terrifying when you figured out it was the same guy that killed your mother, huh?"
Another pause, followed by a heaving sigh.
"I thought that he might kill Barry as well. If he had, you would have blamed yourself – like the stupid brat you always are. I know you blame yourself for what happened to Laice, I know you do. But…shit, kid. You wouldn't believe me if I told you I know what it feels like. You'd probably just hit me and scream a bit. But I get it. I wasn't there that day, I should have been."
"Just like I should have been here when Barry was in trouble. But where was I? Off planet – like always. I couldn't even look at you that day. Every time you looked at me I felt ashamed – because I wasn't there to help Lacie. When I needed her she was always there, and I never even knew she was dying. God…"
"Not you too!" Barry burst into the room, shouting before he'd fully formed the thought to do so. He got to see Hal practically leap out of his chair, lose his balance and come crashing to the ground.
Served him right! Barry tried to think vindictively but he did feel a touch bad about scaring Hal so bad.
"B-Bear." Hal stammered – honest to god stammered as he stared at his angry best friend. "When did you…? How much did you hear of that?"
Barry scowled at Hal with all the accusation he could pack into one expression and Hal's head dropped with a defeated sigh.
"I can explain?" He tried uncertainly and Barry had half a mind to throw the pot of coffee at him. Exactly how much had he been left out of? He was raising Noire for Pete's sake and there were still secrets being kept from him? By Hal no less.
Okay Batman he could understand – Batman was all brooding and secrets but Hal-frickin-Jordan? His best friend, whom he shared practically everything with? Now that was simply insulting.
"You better." Barry threatened, holding the coffee pot up a little higher. "Or this is going all over your nice white shirt." Hal wasn't wearing his father's flight jacket – Barry wouldn't threaten that, but his white shirt was fair game.
"Okay, okay. Jesus, just chill." He did not and Hal sat up on the floor, not daring to go for his chair again. So there he stayed on the med bay floor like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"Look, I know that you just found out that Bruce knew a bit more about the kid than you, but...-" Oh, so Hal knew what Bruce knew as well? Now Barry felt more than just left out, he felt conspired against. "Come on don't look at me like that." Hal pleaded before sighing a second time.
"There's stuff he won't share with me either. Stuff he didn't share with me."
"Like what?" Barry asked, desperately trying to keep the bite in his voice. He never had been good at staying angry with Hal of all people.
"He knew she was dying." Hal answered automatically, voice blunt and more than just a little bitter. "And he didn't tell me a damn thing until after she was gone."
Some of Barry's anger dissolved when he heard that. Mostly because he could see that Hal was genuinely wounded by this. Barry remembered that the person they were talking about was someone that, to Hal at least, had been dead for a year. Barry had seen her alive – in a sense – only hours ago. He sometimes forgot how it must feel for a person who had known her.
So he put down the threat of coffee and stopped glaring at Hal. Instead he simply asked.
"How did you know her?"
Hal laughed and smiled in a faintly sad way. The sort of smile Barry thought was a memory of happier times. "I met her when I became a lantern. The same day in fact. She was…a friend."
Without thinking Barry offered his hand out to Hal along with an expression he dearly hoped was one of understanding. Taking the outstretched hand Hal pulled himself to his feet with Barry's help and much like they had when Barry needed to tell his story – the pair sat at the table and shared a cup of coffee.
Barry didn't speak much as he listened to Hal talk about how he met Lacie. He'd known her long before Noire or Alois had been born. He spoke fondly of how she'd just flown into his life – rather literally – and immediately started to cry when she saw him. He laughed at it now but at the time he'd been in a panic trying to figure out how to stop this strange flying girl from crying in his little apartment.
"I settled for hot chocolate." He said with a disbelieving shake of his head. "She came flying right through the window and burst into tears – and gave her a hot chocolate. Before being a Green Lantern it was one of the most bizarre moments of my life."
"Why did she cry? And you know…bust through your window in the first place?" Hal shifted a little, looking a touch uncomfortable.
"It was my first day with the lantern ring. She'd seen the light – come to it expecting to find Abin Sur, the guy that had the ring before me. They were close apparently, and seeing me? Well…lanterns only really get passed over when someone dies. I was her 'your friend is dead' message in a sense. Not the best way to meet a person."
When Hal explained it was a touch comedic but only because Hal tried to soften it with a hint of humor. The reality of the situation was rather grim, but Hal continued to say that Lacie quickly began to smile of him. Crying her eyes out and she still tried to smile. She'd left without giving her name.
"Didn't see her again until the guardians hauled my ass to trail for being too headstrong." Well that sounded like the Hal that Barry knew. "She showed up to…support me I guess? I was sorta her pride and joy – at least until the brats were born – the first earthling to inherit a green lantern ring. She was ecstatic, wanted to show off her chosen planet it seemed."
Hal explained that Lacie had chosen earth when she was still young, thinking it to be fascinating and incredible. She liked humans – loved them in fact. She adored children most of all and had situated herself in an orphanage to keep them company.
"She believed in humans." Hal mused with a small smile. "More than the guardians did. She pleaded humanities case to them numerous times. We were a young species with potential she said."
After all Lacie had been the last of her kind – they were gone now. So she'd adopted a species to live with once she was old enough to leave those that had raised her. Once the guardians were willing to let the last spectral child live on such an uncivilized hostile planet alone. Apparently it took years to get them to agree – she was rather persistent.
Barry listened to Hal's stories. Listened to him harp on about how Lacie had the worst habit of just showing up out of thin air and following him around. Sometimes she'd pester him but he could never figure out if she did it to be malicious or not. He talked about how they'd fought together on occasion, even admired how well she could fight. She was a pacifist at heart but boy could the girl deliver a nasty blow when the situation called for it.
Then as all stories do, hers ended and Hal's smile faded.
"She never told me she was dying." He admitted quietly. "Apparently it was a secret reserved for herself and Spooky. Although I'm sure the guardians knew. I don't know if she was afraid to tell me or if she just wanted to protect me."
"Last time I saw her alive…I was so busy. Sinestro had invited me to see his home for the first time – what a wonderful trip that turned out to be – and I was still just learning how to be a lantern. I hardly noticed how frail she looked because she smiled so brightly. She glowed – literally – when talking about her two boys, promised me that I'd meet them one day. I didn't – not until she died. How was I supposed to look at her son knowing the things I did?"
"You never told me this, Hal. Why? Why didn't you tell Noire about this?" Barry wondered, still confused as to how this had never been spoken about.
"Batman found me." Hal replied wearily. "Told me what he knew, not that it helped now. I punched him so hard I thought my fist would break – and he let me. He wasn't sorry. He's never sorry."
The urge to defend Bruce rose up in Barry. He still remembered how he'd looked at the fragment Laice, how he'd spoken. He was sorry, maybe not for keeping her secret, but for letting her die. But Barry knew Hal probably understood this – it was just grief talking. He'd lost a friend.
"Told me to keep what I knew a secret. I argued with him but…"
"But?" Barry prompted but he was fairly sure he knew the answer to that.
"But, Lacie had made him swear not to tell." Hal admitted, sitting back in his seat with a small groan of frustration. "Her boys didn't know about what she was or why she was dying. Lacie didn't want to tell them. How could a mother tell her children that she was dying just because they existed? No, no way. That's not what she wanted – so I kept my trap shut."
"I didn't expect the kid to take such a violent disliking to me." He added in a lighter tone, tossing a small glance towards Noire and Barry laughed.
"I don't know if its that bad."
"He tried to bite me, Barry."
"That was only one time. He still didn't even know what kiddo meant yet – he thought you were insulting him." Barry tried to reason but his laughter was bubbling over making the words difficult to understand.
"He would have taken my hand off!" Hal argued, tossing his arms up in exasperation. "I was just trying to ruffle his hair for god's sake! Your boy has no chill."
Barry laughing quieted down and he looked over at Noire as well. "My boy… Do you think she would be upset with how I'm raising him?"
"On the contrary, Bear." Hal answered smoothly, grabbing his cup of coffee as he spoke. "I don't think she could have been prouder."
Barry's face warmed into a smile and he also grabbed his cup. "Hal? No more secrets, okay?"
That would be enough. It would be more than enough to wash away the lies of the Crooked Man's games. The doubts and fears he harbored. To be with his friends and family without the fear of secrets between them. Being able to spend his time joking and smiling with them without that uncertainty. Just that was enough.
Without missing a beat Hal answered. "No more secrets."
Just that was enough.
…
…
…
Evidently Hal really was exhausted, far more than he let on. It wasn't long before Barry was dropping the sleeping man's jacket over his shoulders while debating if he should tease Hal for drooling on the table or not when he woke up.
Deciding it was perfectly good teasing material Barry tucked the though away for another time.
They'd talked for another hour, less heavy topics coming and going as they began to laugh and throw taunts more freely. Like they ought to. However they eventually fell into a comfortable silence, just letting the normalcy of each other's company comfort them. Somewhere in that silence Hal had started to nod off and Barry had let him – knowing Hal would stubbornly fight sleep to try and keep him company.
There was no need, just having Hal on Earth felt like enough.
He must have been asleep for maybe half an hour when Barry heard the rustling of hospital bed blankets. Jerking his head up, instantly alert he caught sight of Noire beginning to shift groggily in bed. At first he thought Noire might be having a nightmare or be in pain because he was making small sounds of discomfort. It wasn't until he heard a definite sob that Barry leapt out of his seat to Noire's bedside.
"Hey, hey." He murmured, trying to sooth whatever it was that was bothering Noire. Pain could be chased away by painkillers, a nightmare could be ended if Barry woke Noire – whatever he needed Barry was willing to give. "Hey, kid. It's all okay."
It was as if Noire didn't know where he was when his eyes began to crack open. The small boy was curled tightly on his side, clearly in discomfort as sweat plastered his bangs to his forehead. Then slowly, blearily, he turned his head to look up at Barry. Those red eyes looked much worse when the whites of Noire's eyes were also blood shot. But they did not unnerve Barry like he remembered in the nightmares he had in the Crooked Man's games.
Instead he simply felt concern, the same concern he was sure any guardian would feel when seeing the child in their care in some sort of trouble. Barry knew Noire didn't like to be thought of as a child – but Barry had raised him for the small time he'd been without Lacie. He knew it was greedy of him to feel he was a proper foster parent after only a year but if he put clothes on Noire's back and food in front of him – he was a parent damn it!
He felt more at ease feeling that now, with what he supposed was Lacie's blessing. Noire needed a father and Barry could give him that.
"B…arry?" Noire croaked, voice thick with sleep.
"Right here, buddy." He answered immediately, even going so far as to brush back Noire's hair. The boy's red eyes slowly clearly, still looking a bit dazed but at least more in the moment.
"Barry." He said more firmly, voice becoming more urgent – feverish even. Then he was reaching out of the sheets with shaky hands, faster than Barry had anticipated, just to grab him. Noire was clutching him like he had to make sure that Barry was really there, really alive. When he found Barry was firm beneath his trembling fingers, the boy let out a choked sob and buried his face into Barry's chest – alarming the speedster.
"Barry, Barry, Barry." Noire chanted his name repeatedly, as honest to god tears began to leak from his eyes, staining Barry's shirt. "I'm sorry." He hiccupped, fingers clenching tighter around fistfuls of Barry's sleeve. "I'm so, s-so sorry."
He continued to cry and it took Barry a few more seconds to catch up with what was happening. Then his arms were around Noire, hugging him as he cried out into Barry's chest.
Very soon Noire was babbling, almost incoherent with his sobbing. Barry could catch small parts of what he was saying. Things about thinking he'd never seen Barry again. About losing him like he lost his mother.
About not being fast enough.
"Noire." Barry spoke gently; keeping his voice as level as was possible while his child cried himself hoarse in his arms. "Did I ever tell you about when I was a boy?"
Noire was tense in his arms but slowly shook his head, still refusing to move an inch away form Barry. This was both the closest and most open Noire had been with him since the day they met. He had cried then as well, sobbing that he had let his mother die, that it was his fault. Now he was feeling all that again – Barry remembered Noire accusing him of being perfect and loved by everyone.
He had put Noire in the position of giving all his insecurities and fears but giving none of his own in return. That had to change tonight.
"When I was a boy." Barry began calmly. "My mother was killed."
He felt Noire tense up in his arms and then he was met with large, red, tear filled eyes that shone with more confusion than sadness. So he continued.
"It was her birthday, I was running home to give her a card and share some cake with her. But by the time I got there, she'd already been killed and the police were blaming my father. I was too slow that day." Noire didn't say a thing, barely even cried anymore save for the odd sniffle that he was obviously trying to keep quiet – Barry had his utmost attention.
"I lost my mother, but I could save my father. So I joined the police force to try and clear his name. However before I could – my father died. I was too slow again. It wasn't long after that the Flash was born and I thought that I would never be too slow ever again." Noire wasn't shaking anymore in his arms but his grip on Barry's sleeves hadn't lightened up at all.
"It took me a long, long time to come to terms with what happened. I spent my life hating myself for being slow, living in fear of failing to save someone again."
Some part of Noire must have violently disagreed with this notion because he buried his face back into Barry's shirt and shook his head in denial. That was fine, Barry wasn't finished just yet.
"But I realized something. My mother and my father – neither of them blamed me. Neither of them would want me to blame myself and they both loved me with all their heart. Your mother loved you…loves you more deeply than anyone else, Noire. You didn't let her down. It's not that we weren't fast enough; they wouldn't want us to die in their place. It might take some time but you'll understand eventually and until then – I'll be right here. So you never have to feel scared or alone again, okay?"
Noire was crying again and Barry quietly murmured words of comfort. Telling him it wasn't his fault, that he didn't have to be afraid – whatever thought crossed his mind. Whatever he remembered wanting to be told when he was still a child aching over the loss of his parents.
"I…" Noire whispered, voice choked with tears and barely coherent. "I love you."
And Barry's chest bloomed with warmth, his arms circling tighter around Noire's balled up form. The irrational fears he'd had of being hated by the boy he raised vanished and were replaced with a sort of happiness he couldn't quite name. He almost felt guilty for having this parental feeling when Noire wasn't really his.
He didn't quite know what to say to that, as an uncontrollable happy laugh bubbled up in his throat. "I love you too, kiddo." He finally answered, hugging Noire close. There was nothing else to say really.
Noire didn't speak for a while and only curled tighter in Barry's arms. He was still crying but it was softer now, calming down as Barry stroked mindless patterns into the boy's back.
Then after a very long time Noire spoke again, voice quite and filled with trepidation.
"Did you ever…find the person that did it?" He asked softly, not raising his head from Barry's shirt. "Did you ever want to kill them?"
This too was familiar and understandable. So Barry answered as honestly as he possibly could. "Yes. I wanted to kill him. For years I wanted to kill him then one day I met him. At first I didn't know he was the man that had killed her, but he was already a criminal – hurting people. Hurting me. The man in yellow – Eobard Thawne – spent every waking moment trying to hurt me more. I've never been more hated, or hated anyone more in return than I did him and he me."
He thought of the replica Eobard, the smug way he'd asked Barry if he'd ruined his life. He hadn't answered the fake then but Eobard seemed to think that was answer enough. But in truth the answer was no.
Eobard hurt him more than any other living person ever had. Pushing him to breaking points, stolen everything he possibly could from Barry without ruining the timeline – but no. He had not ruined his life. Because here he was. With friends and family. He had Hal, Bruce – even Noire. He had Iris who he loved dearly and in return loved him. He had a future that seemed to suggest he'd marry her – a bright hopeful future. He had hope, he had happiness. His life was not ruined.
At the end of the day he still came out a happier person than he thought Thawne had ever been. Maybe that could be revenge enough.
Perhaps he should have told the replica exactly that. Just to see what he thought of it.
"But you didn't kill him." Noire murmured, confused.
"No, I didn't."
"Why?"
He couldn't immediately answer that but Barry knew he had to try. "Revenge isn't the right way to go. If you spend all that time devoting yourself to it – once you've gotten it. There'll be nothing left of you."
Eobard was certainly an example of that. He didn't live for any other reason than his hatred and need for revenge. That was all he had, if he one day finally did kill Barry or somehow sate his rage – there wouldn't be anything left inside of him. No other goals, hopes. Not even a hobby – just a void where his anger used to be.
Imagining that for himself, hunting after Thawne until he destroyed himself just for revenge sent a shiver down his spine. Imagining it for Noire made him hug the boy closer.
He wanted better for them both. He knew their parents would want more than that for them as well.
"No love, no ambition – nothing." Barry murmured quietly into Noire's hair. He knew this better than most people; maybe only Bruce understood the dangers of revenge more intimately than himself. "No one is worth that, no one is worth you. You're worth more than that."
"I want to kill him." Noire moaned pathetically. "I want to kill him so bad it hurts."
"I know." Barry shushed him, trying to calm him before the quiet crying could become full blow sobs again.
"I thought he was going to kill you. I thought you were gone." Noire continued, at least not becoming anymore upset. Although he did continue to speak quickly, almost as if he was afraid the words would leave him if he stopped. "But...but if you can do it, I can try to as well. You always kept running when everything else stood still around you and I…I admired that more than anything."
Barry had violently misjudged Noire's feelings towards him. Admittedly Noire wasn't very open about them and was hostile at practically every turn. To hear him speak so highly of him, well it made Barry feel foolish for ever having thought the things he did in the Crooked Man's game.
"So…if you can not kill the man in yellow – I can try not to kill that crooked human either."
A small swell of pride rose up in Barry's chest and he gave Noire's hair a small ruffle, coaxing a noise of complaint out of the boy.
"Whatever you decide to do." Barry told him gently. "I'll support you. In any way I can."
Noire didn't speak again after that, remaining huddled in Barry's arms until his breathing evened out and the crying stopped. Barry was only able to get a good look at Noire's face when the boy had nodded off. His face was covered in the dirt like smudges he usually kept hidden to appear more human; they must have come out while he was unable to control himself.
Among the dark blotches of his real skin there were patches of red and dried trails from where he'd been crying. But once again he was sleeping peacefully and Barry smiled. There was still going to be issues raising Noire he knew but this seemed like a step forward.
Before long he was nodding off as well and this time he didn't fight sleep when it came to take him.
…
…
All three of them were out like a light by the time Batman came to the med bay. Anticipating arguments from Hal, bitterness from Noire and demands for answers from Barry. Instead he looked in at the three all in their respective sleeping position.
It wasn't often that Batman was left so stumped.
He'd practically driven himself up the wall looking for information on what had happened to the Crooked Man to make him what he was. He'd brushed off Clark's attempts to pull him away from his work until the man practically demanded he take a break and see to the three he'd brought back to the base.
As always Clark was putting people before progress. It frustrated Bruce to no end but when Clark suggested he was hiding from the trio – his pride demanded he prove the man of steel wrong. Even if every step he took towards the med bay became heavier, dragging on his nerves.
Arriving to see the three potential headaches asleep and seemingly content – well it was a bit of a shock to his system. So much so that he almost missed Clark sliding up next to him silently.
"You worry too much." Clark told him quietly, so as not to disturb the children.
"I told you that I do not make a habit of worring." Bruce growled back lowly, still observing the passed out trio. He didn't miss the way Noire was still clutching Barry tightly in his sleep. He must have been terrified that he'd never see Barry again to apologize. This would be a good thing for the boy, knowing that he wouldn't lose everyone – even if the man from his nightmares appeared. It was an important lesson to learn.
"You did." Clark hummed in agreement, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. "You can see that they're alright. You don't give them enough credit, Bruce."
Not bothering to repeat himself, Bruce simply made a sound of agitation. He didn't have to look to know that Clark was still smiling that infuriatingly fond smile of his.
Admittedly he had expected something a little less calm than this. Something with more shouting or crying. He knew he must have missed a bit of that already for it to get to this point – nothing he couldn't look up later to check. But they were all here in one piece.
They were all safe.
Without realizing it, Bruce let out a small sigh of relief. Just knowing they were all alive and together – that was enough.
He knew that eventually they'd have to talk. He had to make sure that Barry was in the right headspace, had to see how much he knew – how much he had to tell in return. Clark didn't say anything but Bruce knew Barry was uncertain about his secrets. It wasn't hard to notice, that might have been why he buried himself in studying the Crooked Man rather than staying close to Barry.
Bruce wasn't afraid – but…he didn't exactly want to have that conversation either.
"Everything will be fine." Clark told him softly and Bruce frowned. Trust Clark to know exactly what he needed to hear but didn't want to hear at all. "They're safe."
"As much as they can be." He answered flatly. It was almost an agreement and Clark took what he could get.
Bruce had checked back on Alois, naturally he was gone. Having recovered hours before Noire even began to stir. He'd vanished after that but Bruce knew he wouldn't go far. He'd be back at that little nest he found him in – Alois wouldn't flee it even after Batman came to visit him.
Strange as it was, Alois seemed to trust him and Bruce understood the child enough to know he wouldn't do anything dangerous towards the public. Noire and Alois had to work through their family argument – Bruce simply kept it between just them. Civilians were where the line was drawn.
If Alois had been the culprit behind those murders he would've had to deal with the bat first. But as it was the murders had simply been the Crooked Man kicking up conflict between the brothers, dragging Alois out of hiding. It had not worked in his favour ultimately, instead it got Alois on his trail and ended up unlocking the door he'd sealed Barry behind.
Bruce wondered if the Crooked Man had any hope in Arkham. Unlike many of the crazies that got locked away in that place – he was at the very least not malicious by nature.
"Creating superheroes…" Bruce muttered, catching Clark by surprise.
"The Crooked Man's ideology?" He guessed uncertainly. "What do you think of it?"
"He's crazy." Bruce answered without hesitation.
"Obviously." Clark replied with a dry tone that almost brought a smile onto Bruce's face. A tone like that wasn't one the public associated with Superman so Bruce took some amusement from hearing it. That was very much a Clark voice. "But you deal with crazies all the time – so tell me what you think."
Bruce shifted his weight from one foot to another, picking his words carefully. "He's desperate." Bruce answered slowly. "He believed that to create a hero they must suffer great. Understandable."
Glancing at the three sleeping bodies, Bruce mentally went through the tragedies they'd faced. Then his own and then Clark's. They all lost something, they all struggled with some form of grief.
"But that's not what makes a hero." He continued firmly. "It's not what happens to us, it's what we choose to do with what we have. The same person can do the most terrible or wonderful things. Regardless of what life has handed them – it's all about choice."
"His choice was to let fear rule his actions, to let his weakness decide his actions." Bruce remembered clearly the ramblings of the insane man. The world needed heroes he said, if he couldn't be a hero he could be a villain to force their creation. That was his mentality.
Because the Crooked Man did not hate heroes – he adored them. He needed them, they were the small sliver of hope he had in the world. To him they were the most incredible people alive. Bruce knew this not from his new existence as the patched together creature but from what he knew of the boy he had been.
Before the games, before the accident that took his life. Before he'd even pulled the trigger on his parents and left them dying in their family manor. Long before that he'd watched the television and idolized heroes. Thinking maybe one could save him.
If he couldn't be strong enough to be a hero, he would just have to make someone else a hero. He'd chosen Noire and Alois.
Bruce still didn't know if he'd intended to kill Lacie that night at the abandoned building. The plan most definitely called for loss, for death or at the very least a fight. But would he actually have pulled the trigger? It was unlikely – after all he was a coward and Lacie had smiled at him.
His parents might have greeted him with a fist, but she had given him kindness. That gun must have felt incredibly heavy in his hands. Maybe if he had been a little more careful with the set up of the explosives, or a little more experienced. Less hasty and shaky with his plans – no one would have died that night.
There was hardly any point dwelling on what might have been. What they had now was an echo of the kid he'd been. Admiration became obsession and now nothing but the perfect hero would make the cut. Maybe Arkham could salvage him, find the piece of him that wanted so badly to help make a better world and show him a better way.
One could only hope.
Clark was smiling at him again. That expression that made Bruce uneasy, like Clark was placing all the faith in the world on his shoulders. As if Clark trusted him more than he trusted himself.
It was a smile that made him feel vulnerable. Knowing that there was someone who was able to put that much belief into him left Bruce terrified he'd break it.
He had not forgotten Barry's tale of the other him and the replica superman. The kryptonite and choice he'd made. Bruce had agonized over what he'd been told about his alternate self. Maybe it was foolish to do so – technically he was not that Batman and that Superman did not exist in this world. But still it bothered him – made the pocket on his belt that contained kryptonite heavier.
Because Clark could smile at him like there was never any doubt and that in turn bred doubt in his mind.
"Bruce." Clark spoke his name firmly, as if he'd picked up on the things flying through his head. Maybe he could, Clark did seem infuriatingly attentive at times. "We're safe." The words had shifted a little and they were spoken like a promise, a fierce reminder.
"You kept them safe." He added, going so far as to pat Bruce on the shoulder, contact that usually would have been brushed off with an annoyed growl. "Like you said, it's all about choice."
That was true. They'd all made choices that lead them here. Clark continued to choose to believe in him. The alternate him had chosen to protect Barry from killing and now Bruce had a decision of his own.
Glancing from Clark back to his sleeping friends, Bruce very nearly let out a sigh.
"If it's a choice between you idiots and a good night sleep – you had better hope I don't sleep." Bruce growled as he walked into the med bay, tossing a blanket over Noire and Barry haphazardly. He pretended not to see when Clark adjusted it to better cover the pair.
He also pretended not to see the knowing way Clark looked at him. Growl all he wanted – Clark knew better.
Bruce would always choose to do what was right. No one questioned that, however Clark knew with certainty that Bruce would always choose them over himself. It was like Clark had told Barry – Bruce was terribly self-sacrificing.
So as Bruce settled himself in to check over basic vitals and double check medical reports he knew were accurate and showed no problems – Clark settled down on the seat across from him and made offers of coffee. He laughed when Bruce told him to do what he wanted, knowing that was as good as a yes.
This was fine. Any doubts they had, any fears that were still lingering just under the surface – everything that they might be worried about – all of it would be dealt with. Everything would be alright because they were surrounded by the people that they cared about and in return they were cared for.
Down the line they'd no doubt have to work through greater threats and tests, but Clark wasn't worried about those either. So long as they worked together and didn't doubt one another – they'd get through it. Just like always.
Barry would heal and grow from his experience and even though he didn't exactly know it – he'd prompted some growth in those around him. Now they only had to look out for one another and continue to make the right choices.
Clark had faith in them all. So he smiled without trouble and placed his trust into each of his teammates.
Yes – this was fine.
They'd be fine.