Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Blinding beams of light pierce through the bedroom shutters, crickets and birds chirp away in harmony, along with the sweet summer afternoon heat of early August. 

Bart groggily blinks himself awake with a groan as he blindly reaches for his phone from his bedside table. The artificial light of his screen momentarily dazes him. 

2:03 PM.

(5) Notifications from I’m the Sand guardian, guardian of the Sand, Zeus quivers before me

(2) Notifications from Karol with a C

(3) Notifications from Blue

(1) Notification from Sunshine <3  

(2) Notifications from Preston the Great

He taps one open.

Sunshine <3: The runaways missed you last night… Where were you? 

Locking the screen, he lets his hand fall back to the bed with his phone. Even with all the speed-healing and stamina in the world, he just doesn’t have the energy to come up with a white lie in this moment. 

With heavy arms he pockets his phone into his shorts, before rubbing his face awake as he gets out of bed. Even with Joan not being around, Bart usually tries to maintain her no in-house speeding rule out of respect. Seems like he doesn’t even need to try all too hard today, considering he’s heading out his bedroom door at a snail-pace, dragging his feet. 

Half-way down the stairs, he catches his reflection on a Flash family portrait hung up on the wall. 

His hair looks like a birds-nest. 

Ugh. 

Saying he’s feeling the mode would be an understatement.

Dropping down the stairs one foot at a time, he checks his mind for any mental-links from Imra. 

Silence.

Huh, guess they’re knocked out too, he thinks to himself. Or maybe, he’ll even have a free, peaceful day. Something that’s been a rarity for the past couple months. 

Don’t get him wrong, the work he’s been doing with the Legion hasn’t been particularly difficult. But Bart has realised lately, that maybe, he’s been balancing more on his plate than he’s gotten comfortably used to in recent years, ever since averting the Reach invasion. 

Especially with the way the Legionnaires have been operating. They’re paranoid on even letting the slightest bit of a reference to their future slip. They refuse to even text him, concerned at the risk of their information and plan being digitally intercepted. And they expect him to work the same way, vowing his absolute silence to those around him.

If Bart weren’t playing the long game here, where he knows he has the upper hand of ultimately getting the truth out of them later down the line whether they like it or not, he’s sure he would be much more pissed than he actually is.

Right now, all he is though, is exhausted. 

Grife, he’s really hoping that the radio silence is a premonition to a nice day. He could really use one of those right now. The Legion did say that they wouldn’t need his help for today, that the intel on the resources they have located suggested that it should be accessible for them without his help, definitely more accessible than whatever the fuck happened last night at least. 

He heads to the kitchen to prepare a meal. A speedster’s gotta refuel. 

That’s strange, Bart looks around the fridge. It’s kinda empty for a couple of speedsters. He could’ve sworn it was full just yesterday. 

Reaching for his phone, a screech stops him in his tracks. Not just any scream. It’s a four year old Dawn classic and it’s coming straight from the backyard. 

Speeding to the garden, he’s surprised to see his grandpa by the grill, tossing heaps of sausages. 

“It’s so nice of you to join us Bart.” Iris greets him sarcastically as she kid-handles Dawn to stop kicking at her brother.  

Bart realises just how out of it he really is, as he slowly blinks in response a “Huh?”, scanning his family. He manages to catch the mili-second of concern Jay was looking at him with, before resuming his attempt to get Don to sit properly on the garden-bench. Iris is sat next to them with Dawn, who refuses to stop her squirming. 

Barry snaps him out of it as he flips the aluminium-wrapped potatoes. “Thanks for setting up the grill and getting all the stuff like we asked for Kid.” 

Fuck, he totally forgot about today! Bart had promised everyone he’d handle the barbecue set up, especially with Barry being so busy recently with work. It completely slipped his mind. 

Out of habit, he lets out a nervous laugh, before he apologises. “Ah, I’m really sorry everyone, I didn’t realise it was today. Uh, can I still help with anything?” He sheepishly rubs at his neck.

Barry responds with a resigned sigh. “It’s all good Kid, just sit yourself down and I’ll bring everything over when it’s ready.” 

Moving awkwardly from the entrance, he joins the rest of his family by the bench-table, sitting across Iris. He feels so bad, Iris had come up with everything and he’d given her his word that he’d sort everything out this morning and instead, he was knocked out from the world, deep asleep.

He thought he’s been doing a decent job at the balancing act with the Legion since May. Clearly not, he laments as he watches his grandpa flip and toss the food, taking a swig out of his beer, humming some tune to himself as if there wasn’t a care in the world. As if Bart doesn’t know how stressed the man has been with the workload CCPD has been piling his way, especially with all the uptake in summer-crime that he has to cover as both a forensic scientist and as the Flash. 

That’s also why Bart has made sure to accompany his grandad as often as possible every time the man gets called for Flash duties, especially now that he’s supposedly got time to waste, free from school during the summer vacation. Of course, he’s also got his duty as an Outsider to maintain and as a speedster he would usually have no problem at all with juggling all these responsibilities. In fact, he’s among the few people who always has time to spare, for both fun and helping out wherever he’s needed.

It’s also ideal for the Legion, as they keep reminding him, considering they need him to consistently keep up with his daily responsibilities, both as Bart Allen the civilian and Kid Flash the hero. Their obsession with preventing any deviation of the time-stream, especially for someone with a public responsibility such as his own, needs him to continue to act as if he keeps having time to spare. 

As with all things time-travel related though, he has long learned that no matter what, it’s always without fail, a volatile and delicate situation. Bart’s had to work with what little of the salvageable pieces remained of the disaster wreck of a time-sphere and figure out what could actually still be used. He’s had to fix up as many parts as possible and come up with as many potential uses of technology that he knows exists in the present, as well as what he thinks could possibly exist. This also meant scouring the planet with the Legion to search for said potential parts. 

The salvaged pieces of the sphere are also tech from a thousand years in the future. This means any tangible component compatible with it, would of course, only be found in the most guarded of facilities, with the most advanced security of this era in place. And as if that wasn’t annoying enough, with both the Legion’s neurotic need to remain hidden, as well as the massive trouble he would be in if he were caught stealing from any of these compounds as a public hero, well let’s just say, things have been a bit of a pain for him recently. 

It’s different to the traditional missions from his time on the covert team for the League, where more often than not, they’re either exposed or compromised one way or the other. With the Legion however, he can’t afford even the slightest slip up. One single blip on anyone’s radar and it’s game over.

Again, he assures himself, high-stakes aside, it’s not that all this has been too difficult for him, working and planning along with the Legion, as well as continuing his KF duties both for the Outsiders and Flash, it’s been okay. But something that has become glaringly obvious to him as of late, compared to his own original time-stream, where he’s had to work with even more ridiculous situations, was that he now has people that care for him. As well as people that he now cares for. Balancing all these jobs, along with maintaining a front among his friends, his boyfriend, his family, well, they seem to be taking more of a toll on him than he would have perviously considered. 

He came back home yesterday late in the evening from a mission with the Outsiders, busting open a meta-human trafficking ring in Europe. Turns out, some cult of magic users was behind it, using victims as guinea pigs to practice inhumane transfigurations. It was rough and though they’re a strong team, fighting against magic always paves way to being among the harder missions. So he was definitely looking forward to the sweet, soft comfort of his bed after the planned get-together post-mission with the Runaways, Blue and Traci. He was supposed to join them in El Paso, at an open-air cinema, where they would all then hit up a late-night diner. It was originally meant to be a fun, chillaxed night. 

Right until he got a stress signal from Imra and Reep, that the latest research compound they had scouted had been impossible for them to penetrate. Don’t get him wrong, the Legionnaires are incredibly skilled, especially at stealth. But even the most powerful of telepaths or shapeshifters can’t exactly work against the most technologically advanced security in the world. A computer main-frame can’t exactly be brain blasted or mind controlled and if there’s no one around with clearance to access the part they need in the first place, then any shapeshifting would rouse attention. For him to rush and run in to secure the piece was also a no-go, as the guarded area was essentially a big unknown, with no indication of what kind of security was to be considered. They had to anticipate any possibility of being caught, so a recon of those associated with the project was desperately needed. 

Aboard Bio-ship, he joined them to scout different facilities for hours. They had gathered that the black box of a room the component was stored in, was equipped with some alien tech, capable of detecting even the slightest microscopic shift in kinetic energy. Considering every time he so much as blinks at high speed, he exudes a relative metric-tonne of kinetic waves, it was a good call that he didn’t just phase his way through. So yeah, maybe Barry is on to something whenever he keeps drilling into Bart how important think first, do later, is for a speedster.

Saturn Girl, Chameleon Boy and him had spent an extra hour breaking into the HQ of the facility to remotely disarm as much of the security as possible without raising any alarms. With them on the look out, he left at light speed to secure the component without a single trace of being caught, before the other two re-installed all pre-existing security measures. The mission was of course, a swift success and as they regrouped he disarmed the tracker on the component. 

But even the Dick Graysons of the world are prone to missing a thing or two. Turns out, disarming the tracker from the device unleashed its last security measure, a pin-prick injecting some kind of toxin. In retrospect, Bart knows he should’ve been more cautious, but he was exhausted and had been working non-stop at that point, so like the genius he is, he missed it. Excruciating, burning pain ate at every tendril of his nerves, pupils dilating, heart racing, muscles convulsing, weighing him down, lungs constricting, as he struggles for air and before he knew it, he woke up in Bio-ship, drenched in a pool of sweat, to Imra and Reep hovering over him. Their rings had apparently analysed the poison. Turns out, it paralyses people into a vegetable and oh, if it weren’t for your meta-metabolism you would’ve been in deep shit Kid Flash. Always a fun reminder. Well, better him than the other two, he consoled himself at the time. Now that he’s sitting down in the garden with his family, he realises he doesn’t know what he would’ve done if either of the Legionnaires had been hit. 

He’s low-key responsible for them too. Scratch that, he is high-key responsible for them.

This whole thing, it’s not difficult, he insists to himself. He just has a lot on his plate. 

Well, figuratively at least, Barry’s still grilling away and there are no literal plates on the table. 

Bart dashes to correct that.

Again, he catches a look of momentary concern from Jay before he asks. “It sure is a rarity for you to wake up this late Bart. What had you knocked out like that kid?”

General exhaustion? Coming back home at 6AM? A toxin that’s supposed to kill the central nervous system that he feels like he’s still recovering from? 

“Just came back late from El Paso Jay. It’s been a while since all the Runaways met up, so we just lost track of time I guess.” He cringes as soon as the words leave his mouth, he’s really not on his A-game today and if Iris is paying him even the tiniest bit of attention then-

“You guess?” She asks, not at all impressed, with a raised brow. 

That toxin has definitely done a number on him, because the best response he can muster up right now is an uncaring shrug. 

“Wow Bart, you’re off your game.” She muses as she balances Dawn on her leg, shaking her up and down to entertain her. Iris knows him too well. 

“Come on grandma, I’m just really tired. Can we not do this right now.” He complains as he lifts a plate to hide behind. Ugh, he just wants to go back to bed.

“Alright everyone settle down, one round of grilled everything coming right up.” Barry interrupts as he spreads a whole buffet of food across the table. 

Bart has never said or thought a single bad thing in his life about his grandpa. Camper’s honour, or whatever it’s called. 

Immediately filling up their plates, there’s a comfortable silence as they eat with the occasional, “Barry this is really good”, or “eew”, or “Donnie don’t throw your food!”

Bart can’t help himself as he stuffs his face like he hasn’t eaten in days. How could he forget that he’s literally a speedster, not even infinite morphine comes remotely close to the euphoric feeling of refuelling himself with food. 

For the third time, he catches Jay looking to him with worry. If he pretends he didn’t spot it maybe the old man will-

“Didn’t you eat enough with your friends last night? Are you sure you’re okay kid?” 

Klarion’s dang it rings clear in his ears.

“I’m fine Jay, really. Just woke up late, so extra hungry, that’s all.” He assures as he shoves a pile of mushrooms into his mouth.

And they all buy it for a bit. 

Barry, sitting beside him, goes on to update them about the latest development on one of his cases, something about an illegal underground gambling ring. He talks with a spark in his eyes that only someone who’s married to their job can conjure. 

“And then Burns discovered by pure luck that her local coffee shop was actually the meeting point for the front men, hiding in plain sight! Thank God I was passing by for my morning refill because they were about to ambush her with a shoot-out. Of course, by some mystic force, all the bullets avoided her and we apprehended everyone and called for backup. It was a wild day for her but just another dollar for me.” He finishes with a laugh.

Iris shakes her head in endearment. “Bear, you’re such a dork.” 

“For a lab technician you sure are on the field a lot Barry.” Jay says as he tries to get Don to eat his vegetables. 

“What can I say Jay, I think I was destined to fight crime.” Barry jokes with a light smile and a jab to Bart’s side. His grandpa really is a dork. 

Don continues to refuse Jay and the vegetables before escaping, speeding himself straight into Bart’s side. 

As the velocity of the three year old hits Bart, he huffs out an “Oof,” in pain and doubles over. Seems like the food hasn’t completely healed him from the toxin just yet.

“Don, you have to be careful! Go back to your seat.” Barry reprimands sternly before gently asking, “Are you okay Kid?”

Holding an arm to his side, with an annoyed groan he replies through clenched teeth “Ugh, I’m fine Barry. Just a bit achey from yesterday.” 

“It’s been almost a whole day since, I thought you were cleared from yesterday’s mission kid?” Jay frets. 

“I was! They wouldn’t have let me go otherwise, nothing happened to me during the mission Jay, okay, you don’t have to worry.” He assures. 

“This doesn’t look like nothing Bart.” Iris counters in concern.

“It is! Look I promise y’all it’s not mission related. I was just messing around and now I’m all achey. One bite out of this and I’m fine again!” He insists as he shoves a whole potato in his mouth to prove his point.

They’re not convinced. 

“Right and what time did you come back home yesterday?”  

“3 AM?” He replies to his grandma sheepishly through a mouthful of potato. 

“3 AM?! Bart, you know I expect you to message me every time you plan on coming back after midnight. What were you even up to?” Jay interrogates, clearly upset. 

Which is a minor sacrifice Bart is willing to make, disappointing Jay over 3AM is much better than having to argue his case for his actual 6AM return and he doubts they’d believe a within curfew answer. 

He swallows his potato. “Uh… I was just with Ed and-”

“Oh. Were you now.” Iris interrupts with a lilt in her voice, as if she’s figured something out. 

“Yeah? I told y’all like a million times, I was with the others in El Paso.”

“Yeah but we long know by now that Dr. Dorado gives Eduardo a strict midnight curfew too. If you were out late with him, it would’ve been in Taos, otherwise we would’ve heard from his dad.” She smirks.

“Taos is like hours behind here Iris, you know I always come back to Central late from there, even before his curfew.” He counters, rolling his eyes. Wait, why is he even arguing with Iris when she’s nowhere near his truth, is he stupid. 

“Oh, so you confess, you were in Taos with him until late?” She grins with her mischievous “got yah” face.

He doesn’t even know what to make of the situation, so he just continues to eat. 

“And you come home late, oh so tired and oh so achey.” She teases. 

With widened eyes and a traitorous blush he realises where this is going. “Iris!” He whisper yells. 

Jay just rubs his head against his hand with a groan. For the fastest man alive, Barry is still slightly out of the loop, catching up. 

“So you two have fun last night? Tried new things?” She asks, voice heavy with double meaning. 

Bart can’t believe what’s happening. The very thing he’s dreaded since forever is unfolding before him and it’s not even what really happened! 

Fuck the Legion and fuck the timeline, he’s extremely close to turning them over for the sake of preserving his last shred of sanity right now. 

“Wait just a second-” Barry starts. 

Great, that’s exactly what he needed, Bart is officially feeling the mode. Wait no, that doesn’t even scratch it. Where is the Blue Beetle of his timeline to end him when he actually needs it. 

In speed that only Bart can really perceive among the rest of the table, he watches as Barry flits through the seven stages of grief, as he looks from Iris to Bart in realisation. 

Red-faced, either from anger or embarrassment, or even both, Barry scolds him. “Bart he’s two years older than you! I thought you were both taking it slow!” 

Bart drags his hands along his face with a groan. “Barry you are literally six years older than Grandma.” 

“It’s not at all the same!” 

“You’re right, it’s a whole extra four years!” He argues back.

“It’s different when you’re in your twenties, don’t try to play me Kid. Also, you’re not denying it! So Iris is right?” 

Ugh, yes, he’s not denying it, because it feels weird to lie about something that’s already happened months ago. And he’s not about to go into that. What alternative does he have? No gramps, I didn’t actually get fucked within an inch of my life last night, turns out there’s still some paralysing agent in my system and also surprise! I’ve been robbing different compounds of their tech with a gang of two time travellers from a thousand years in the future! 

“Can we not talk about this in front of my dad and aunt Dawn please.” With a fixed gaze to his food, he prods at it.

“Right… This conversation isn’t over though Bart.” Barry relents reluctantly. 

Bart simply grumbles back a response. 

An awkward silence ensues, filled with the scrapes and drag of cutlery against ceramic while they continue to eat. 

As Bart is about to refill his plate for the fourth time, a mind link pierces through him. 

“Kid Flash, how are you feeling?” Imra rings in his head. 

He startles everyone as he bashes his head against the table with a frustrated shout. Iris and Jay share a questioning look of unease.

Ignoring his family’s concern, he keeps his head to the table, listening in to the literal voice in his head. Hearing Bart’s dramatics, Imra continues. “Fair enough. Look, we tried to fit one of the micro-reactors to a generator and it keeps catching on fire. We don’t want to waste and risk damaging it any further, so if you have time-” 

“I’ll be there in ten. Meet you at your hub in Metropolis?” He replies back mentally.

“Yes. Cham is there, so don’t wait up for me, I’ll fly back ASAP.”

“Sounds crash, see you there- oh and remember my payment?” Imra can hear the grin in his thoughts. 

Bart, on the other hand, can hear her eye-roll as she responds. “Of course. I’ll stop by the store on the way.” 

“Nice.” It’s the small victories in life. "Snooze yah later!” 

“Is this another of your fake 21st century Earth lingo.” 

“Uh pshhhhhhh, signal is cutting off, pssssssss can’t- he- pshhhhhh.” 

“You can’t be serious.” 

“This is a disconnected number please- “  

“Whatever, snooze you later Kid Flash. Over and out.” Saturn Girl departs, amused.

Heh, Bart smiles to himself, face still planted to the table. 

“Is Bart okay?” He hears Aunt Dawn asking.

He reaches over the table to pinch her by the cheek. “I am super okay tornado twerp!” He assures her as she giggles.

Don speeds over to him, carefully this time, reaching at him to be picked up. Endearment flooding his heart, Bart lifts him up to sit on his lap. “Heya Da-Don. What’s up?”

His dad only responds by hugging around his chest. 

Okay, Bart is actually crying inside. He could eat him right up, this is too adorable. After giving his dad a bunch of cuddles, he sighs. 

“I forgot I promised Ed I’d help set up the new training grounds at the youth centre today and just realised I got the time differences confused.”

“Seems like you’re forgetting a lot of promises as of late Kid.” Barry digs at him. 

Taking in a subtle breath of self composure, he thinks bitterly, fair enough gramps, before he continues with a level tone. “I’m already late so I gotta hurry. I’ll be sure to be back in time to make dinner tonight Jay, so don’t worry.”

Jay, an honest man who wears his heart on his sleeves, simply responds back with a tight smile of acknowledgement that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.  

Bart does genuinely feel guilty, but duty calls. So with a nod back he’s just about to leave before Iris quickly adds “Don’t have too much fun, remember to always use prote-”

He couldn’t have rushed out of there fast enough. 

Chapter Text

Jay breaks the lull in conversation. 

“Bart is hiding something.” 

“His late night rendezvous aside?” Iris questions in surprise, around a mouthful of grilled vegetables.

With a sigh, Jay confesses. “You know, I think the kid was lying about that. He didn’t even outright confirm it. He is definitely hiding something else though.” 

“I highly doubt he would lie, just to still get into trouble regardless. What makes you think this?” Barry asks respectfully.

“You see,” Jay starts with a scratch to his nose in slight uncertainty, “It’s not just today, the kid’s given me multiple instances for the past few months now for grounds of concern.” 

Iris prompts further “Like?” 

With clasped hands the original Flash leans forward against the table. “Back in June, just a week into his summer break. I left my library card at home, so I came back to look for it. Couldn’t find it anywhere. I was in a hurry, so I sped to his room to ask him if he maybe knew where it was and I swear, there was a second where I caught a glimpse of him being surrounded by this absurd amount of paperwork.” He raises his hand in emphasis. “I’m talking piles as tall as the little tornados over here, it was ridiculous. And sure, I know I know, my speed vision might not be on par with yours Barry, but you know that one second-” 

“-is all you need.” Barry completes for his mentor, to which the older Flash nods in confirmation. 

“Exactly. And I swear, I saw schematics. I couldn’t quite make sense of them, but they were detailed sketches of all sorts of things, parts, assemblies. What exactly, I couldn’t make sense of them, but before I was the Flash, I was a lab technician first and I can recognise a technical drawing from a mile away.” 

“So did you find out what it was?” Iris couldn’t help but ask.

With a negatory sigh, Jay continues. “No, it was too abstract. Then, not even a blink later and it was all replaced with schoolwork. I asked him about it, pushed for it even and he just told me it was homework.”  

“Homework. In June.” He repeats himself with emphasis, reprising the same disbelief he confronted Bart with at the time. 

“And when you called him out?” Barry questions as he lifts Dawn up to his lap.

“The kid just stood his ground, said all the kids in his year were given work for over the break.” Jay explained, baffled. 

Iris adds. “Surely Bart must’ve realised how ridiculous his little tale was.” 

“I could see it in his eyes, he did. But he held his gaze and just doubled down on his story. Even told me that I could call all the teachers to verify.”

“And?” 

“Well obviously I wasn’t going to disturb them during their vacation. And then it just got crazier.” Jay continues in bewilderment. “Not even a minute passes and there’s a guy calling from downstairs. It’s his principal! In our own home! Said he was passing by and that I left the door open, so he thought he’d waltz right in to let me know. Right before asking Bart “how his summer homework was going” !” 

Iris and Barry share a look of slight alarm. 

“Jay, you left the door open again?” Iris looks to him in sympathy. 

He explains himself. “Well I- I was in a hurry at the time Iris and it’s been a while since that last happened. But that’s not-“ 

“Jay, high-school systems are strange these days, I don’t understand half of it myself honestly.” Barry tries.

“You two don’t believe me.” Jay furrows his eyes in disappointment, hurt.

“It’s not that we don’t believe you Jay. You had a lot on your mind in that moment, what with the library card and June being a crazy hot month. I mean, you even left the front door open. These things happen, heck, the other day I showed up to the League meeting in my lab clothes without even realising it.”

“You think I’m simply being a senile old man. That I’ve lost my marbles.” Jay keeps going, dejected.

“No! Jay, that’s not it at all. You know for a fact how much faith I always have in you.” Barry urgently reassures with sincerity. “It’s just, what would Bart be doing with schematics in the first place? Where would he have even gotten them from?”

“I don’t know! That’s why I’m sharing this with you two, I don’t understand what has been going on with him lately.” Jay replies desperately.

Barry reasons. “Jay, you’re a man of science. Always have been. Wally has always had a natural affinity for it too, sneaking through all my books, papers, research, messing around in his makeshift garage lab, arguing with me over any of the latest breakthroughs.” The blonde runner recounts fondly. Iris smiles softly at the nostalgia. “And I was the exact same way too as a kid. It’s been four years since Bart joined our family, it’s clear by now that he couldn’t care less about all that. Just three weeks ago, I brought him to a Harrison Wells lecture on dark matter, the kid fell asleep! ” Barry exclaims, almost offended, before rushing to clarify. “Not- not that there’s anything wrong with his lack of interest, just cause us three are cut from the same mould, doesn’t mean he needs to fit himself into it.” 

Jay, now slightly more unsure of himself questions Barry. “Your point?”

“I just don’t see what he’d be doing with a bunch of technical drawings, let alone come up with some elaborate, borderline silly, story involving his principle. I’m just saying, it could’ve easily been a trick of light and it really was his homework.”

“Exactly Jay, this isn’t an age thing.” Iris supports. “Besides, you mentioned that there were multiple instances, what else has been on your mind?” She asks as she places a comforting hand to his shoulder. 

With a sigh, downing what little remains of his beer, the older speedster recomposes himself. “Alright. How about the fact that I found Bart missing from his bed, in the middle of the night, at least three times in the past couple of months. Or that time I caught him scribbling away at 4AM.”

“Oh Jay, you’ve been sleeping badly?” Barry asks with concern as Iris moves to rub his back in soothing motions.

“What? No, that’s not- this isn’t- this is about Bart.” Jay responds, incredulous.  “Aren’t you listening, his sleep patterns have been off for months now. Today’s the first time it’s caught up with him and I am worried about what he’s been up to!” 

Iris doesn’t stop her ministrations. “Jay, it’s the summer holidays. It basically guarantees any teenager a messed up sleep-schedule. He was most probably out with his friends. What did he tell you?”

“… That he was out with his friends. But Iris, what would he work on at 4AM in the morning?” Jay is starting to feel defeated.

“He likes to draw doesn’t he?” 

“He…” did say it was a drawing. Maybe Jay really is overthinking this. 

But.

“No, no. Look, for the past months he’s been eating double the amounts he usually does. And he’s been spending less time at home and there’s just, something.” Jay doesn’t know how exactly to describe it, but he just knows that something is not quite right with his child. 

Barry gently sits Dawn beside him, next to her brother. “He’s a growing boy Jay, he needs to make up for it. And most importantly, he’s a teenager. You know how they are, always up to something, finding some kind of thrill in sneaking away with their friends, keeping things to themselves. Especially during the summer break. You just have to let him be.”

The older speedster responds by looking past Barry with a frown as he reaches for his toothpick to chew at. 

Iris, recognising their attempts at comfort are being poorly received, tries again. “Bart is fine Jay, I know you’re worried as his guardian, but you also need to remember to take care of yourself.” 

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean, kid. What is this all really about?” He asks from the side of his eyes as he reaches to the floor to grab open a new can.

A silent exchange passes between the couple, before Iris gathers her courage. “We’ve… heard from Dinah that you’ve been thinking of joining the League.”

Jay carefully chooses his words. “Yes, it’s true. Nothing official yet, I still need to pass all physical, as well as mental, checks before my 1st mission, but I assume her sharing of the news with you is a good sign?”

Barry takes over. “She’s under the impression that you’re more than ready and that it’ll be good for you.” 

“And you?”

With a deep breath, Barry confesses. “We’re just worried that you’re jumping into this maybe a bit too quickly?”

Huffing a laugh of disbelief, Jay shakes his head. “This is coming from you Barry?” 

The blonde hero tries to better phrase himself. “Jay, I want nothing more than to run side by side with you out on the field again. But things are different now, there are so many variables to consider. It’s a different world compared to 20 years ago and we care about you. You’re family, you’re Bart’s guardian. Heck, does Bart even know about all this?” 

Guilt mars the older speedster’s face. “No.” He confesses. “But that’s only because-”

He’s interrupted by an excited “Ba-Bart’s phone! Wanna play games!”  

All three adults turn to the twins, crouched over the corner of the table as they wave a phone around. 

Iris gently retrieves the phone from her son as she hands it to Jay. “Looks like he forgot this in a hurry.”

“I guess I’ll head on over to the Youth-Centre later.” He pockets it.

Barry nods at this as he tidies up the plates before deciding to add. “Jay, if you think you are ready, then we’ll be the first to support you. You’ve been doing the gig much longer than I have, I guess, I should look forward to all that I still have to learn from you.” 

Jay laughs sincerely for the first time today. “I think I should be saying that to you, Barry.”

Chapter Text

“Sure! Hook up the device with five hyper-transistors in series to a generator with its own set at its base, why don’t you! A thousand years from the future but y’all never learned that they’ve got to be linked up in parallel. What do they even teach you there.” Bart mutters as he rewires everything. 

“Cham got a D- in cross-dimensional mechanics, can you blame him.” Imra says as she flies in through the loft window. 

Reep gasps in sheer offence. “Imra! You’re supposed to defend your comrade’s honour, not throw it under the bus!” He reprimands from the centre of the room, sat across Bart at the other end of the work station. Waving the Titanian off, he continues. “Besides, I was always more of an intergalactic-biology kind of guy.”

“Sure you were.” The speedster comments, absent minded, focused on welding the rewiring together. 

“Now what’s that supposed to mean.” The shapeshifter challenges, standing to confront, before a hand stops him in his tracks. 

The blonde changes the subject as she heads to where Bart is working. “How’s it going?” 

Still zeroed in on the welding, he replies. “It’s going. That one micro-reactor is completely fried but luckily we salvaged enough to spare, so all’s crash.” 

Imra happily sighs out a breath of relief. “You don’t know how much we needed some good news. It’s as if ever since we arrived to the past we’ve just been taking in hit after hit and-” she pauses, face betraying a split-second of sorrow before clenching her fist. “-nevermind. How about you, how are you holding up? You were hit with a pretty large dose of botulinum after all.” She asks, worry in her eyes. 

Reep rasps with a scowl of disgust. “A whole frickin mili-gram of it. Can wipe out a whole squadron, they definitely intended to kill with it.”

Seemingly unconcerned, in a voice really only used to discuss the weather trivially, Bart replies. “A whole squadron you say. Now that might explain why I still feel like I’ve been run over by a hundred tanks, driven by elephants.”

“That bad huh.” Imra frowns, grip tightening around the plastic bag of snacks.

Inspecting the finished weld, Bart speeds to the sofas at the corner of the loft, munching away on the snacks he grabbed from the telepath.  

“I’m just being dramatic, all’s good.” He brushes their concern off with a smile, before he cheekily asks. “BTW, those rings tell you all that huh? They sure can do a whole lot of stuff. Think you can get me one?” 

“Yeah, that’s gonna be a no from me.” Reep flat out refuses as he joins from the other sofa, adjacent to the speedster. 

Imra walks to them, giving the runner a light hearted shrug. “Sorry Bart, you know the drill, every Legionnaire holds veto power.” She says, grabbing a packet of Chicken Whizees from him to share with with the Durlan. 

“Man, you guys are so moded. I’ll just make one myself then. Can you imagine, a flying speedster? I’d be unstoppable.” He looks off dreamily into the distance.

Cham snorts at this. “You’re smart KF, but you’re no Brainiac 5.” 

“Cham!” Imra reprimands as Reep pales at his own misdeed.

“Oh! My spoiler senses are tingling, “Brainiac 5” huh, who’s that?” The brunette teases before popping a sweet in his mouth with mocking slowness.

“He’s no one.” Imra emphasises as she tries to end the conversation.

“Oh, so it’s a guy.” He taunts through a mouth-full of popcorn. 

The Titanian groans as she bonelessly falls against the sofa, exasperated, with hands to her face, muffling her voice as she says, “Everyone, just shut up.”

Bart just snickers at this fondly. “Well whatever, you don’t gotta tell me who this Brainy is-“ 

“How’d you know we call him that?” Reep looks to him in suspicious awe. 

“… Seriously? Y’all call him “Brainy”?” He looks to them completely unimpressed. “Sure are giving Conner a run for his money in the least creative nicknaming competition.” 

The two Legionnaires look crestfallen at the mention of Superboy. 

Ah, right. Bart thinks guiltily.

“Anyway, like I was saying, I don’t need to be “Brainy”, whoever that is, to know that your rings are made of Nth metal.” Bart plays nonchalantly as he breaks open a bag of skittles.

This catches their attention. “How’d you-”

“Broken record today are we? Maybe it’d be way easier if you guys just told me everything from the get go, so we don’t need to have this back and forth all the time? No?” He condescendingly shrugs. 

Their shut-tight lips are oddly infuriating. He feels seconds away from using an Owen Mercer meat interrogation classic. Because it’s been months and- 

Long game Bart, you’re playing the long game. He reminds himself. He is getting the truth from them regardless. Just gotta wait, he thinks with grit teeth.

Dusting off his hands, he flippantly continues. “Any-who, on the topic of Nth metal, I should most probably debrief you two on our progress. We’ve got about 90% of our base-foundation. Considering that’s like, the most important part, I’d say that’s pretty good.” He celebrates with a wink. “Since we located the catalytic nuclearisor yesterday and it looks like an easy retrieve for you guys, I’m just gonna go ahead and finalise the design for our build.” He explains with a sincere smile. 

The Legionnaires nod at this militarily despite the set alight excitement in their eyes betraying them. Bart continues. “Assuming you two retrieve the part as planned, scotch free, I’ll most probably be able to finalise the schematic within a couple of days. That being said, depending on the final product, we need additional materials. One thing we definitely do need regardless is a kilo worth of Nth metal.” 

“A kilo?!” The Legionnaires exclaim in shock.  

With a raised brow, Imra voices her doubts. “Where do you think we are exactly? Thanagar?” 

With a snort and clasped hands, Bart leans forward. “Come on guys, give me some credit here, I obviously already know where to find some. Two words: Star Labs, Detroit.” He reveals, grin full of teeth. Before he catches himself with a light wince as he looks to the side. “Okay, sure, that was three words.” 

Confusion splatters across the Durlan’s face. “I thought you told us we had to stay clear of Star Labs? Because of your boyf-” 

“Yes, I know what I said Reep.” Bart hurriedly interrupts, tone tinted in irritation. “But if we’re doing all this with a 100% success rate of not being caught in the first place, then we might as well make use of them. Besides, desperate times, we need that kilo of metal and I know for a fact they have loads to their disposal, they won’t be missing it.” He explains in earnest. 

“Why Nth metal though?” Imra asks.

“This era’s rubber wires are a dud, I gotta remove all the plastic and galvanise the cables with it. With its transference properties, it’ll basically act as a substitute circuit once the retro ones fry out too. We’ve got loads of components, so we’re gonna need a lot of coating.”  

Imra nods at this. “Understood.”

“Aaaaand, that’s it for now? I think?” The runner concludes as he stands, dusting off his jeans. “You guys heading out now for the nuclearisor retrieval?” 

“Affirmative.” The Titanian confirms as she also stands to leave. “We’re gonna be heading straight out to Bio-ship.” 

“What about you, aren’t you needed by your family or the Outsiders?” Cham asks as he and Imra walk past him to the back exit, connected to the roof top of the loft, where Bio-ship rests. 

Eyes drifting to the side in thought, Bart replies. “Well…” 

Today is supposed to be one out of his two weekly days off and something tells him he won’t be needed for emergency backup. Or maybe it’s the Botulinum toxin talking that’s still beating his ass, whatever. Unless Flash is gonna need him, it sure looks like it’s one of those dime in a dozen rare days where he has some free time.

Now, he could head back home, but left-over guilt from the barbecue is still eating at him and he doesn’t really want to see anyone right now, especially Jay and his concern. He also has to work on the schematics and whilst he usually manages to work on individual part-designs uninterrupted, sketching up a whole assembly technical drawing is a different story. The last time he did that, Jay caught a whole second worth of piles of sketches and calculations. It was only by pure luck that the Legion arrived in time for their meet, noticing the situation he was in. There’s only so much you can come up with in a split second and with all three of them plotting via Imra’s mind link, the Durlan shape-shifted into his principal and the too stupid to work plan was put into motion. It was so, so ridiculous that Jay couldn’t know what else to do but to accept it. 

Bart definitely doesn’t want a repeat of that situation. He respects Jay and doesn’t want to deceive the man more than he necessarily needs to. 

“Actually, I think I’m gonna stay here to work on the schemas.” With all the previous paper work being safeguarded at the loft already, it makes the most sense for him to remain. 

Sure, he might also be feeling a little lazy today. 

“Knock yourself out Kid.” Imra communicates psychically. “We’ll report if we need anything.” 

“👌 “ 

Imra mentally responds back in alarm. “Did you seriously just mentally reply back to me in an emoji?” 

Bart grins. “👍”

“I can’t with you right now.” Mental tone betrays her amusement. 

“Be safe guys, over and out.” 

“Over and out.” 

And with that, he runs to clear the surface of the work station, making space for all his papers. He stores the upgraded set of micro-reactors, delicately, with the rest of the fixed-up time sphere parts in the vault, before re-activating its security. 

Laying out the hundreds of technical drawings across the work desk, sorting through their additional notes, his eyes flit to the couches for a millisecond. 

…

A power nap sounds pretty good right now.

…

But he has so much he needs to get a start on and if he speeds through it maybe he can afford that nap later. Yes, exactly.

He slaps his face awake, simultaneously hit with regret.

Ow, every muscle in his body still burns like a dull flame, still so sore and tense and-

Ugh, Bart couldn’t be more annoyed with himself. What the fuck is he whining for, he’s worked through hell of a lot worse, all this, is literally nothing. The fact that he’s feeling tired from being busy, sure yeah there might be a toxin involved that’s eating away at him, whatever, is just a part of life. Life. There’s not a second where he’s ungrateful for it, so who does he think he is, complaining. 

There’s no time for feeling like shit. And Bart has work to do. 

Chapter Text

“Mr. Garrick! It’s been too long, how’ve u been Sir?” A bald man greets Jay as he steps foot into the Meta-Human Youth Centre. 

The retired speedster greets him back with a firm shake of the hand and a wide smile. “Nathanial, good to see you son. How’re your studies going?” 

With a shy smile, the meta scratches at his neck. “They’ve been alright. Since Dr. Dorado put in a good word for me, I’ve been able to shadow one of the top nuclear physicists in the state this summer, isn’t that crazy?”

“It’s what you deserve kid. You’re a good man and you’ve only got good things coming your way.” Jay supports with a reassuring hand to Neut’s shoulder. 

Sure, maybe the retired hero is a little biased. As Bart’s legal guardian for the past four years, he’s long established by now that the young speedster isn’t particularly forthcoming with his experiences from the original timeline. Having only managed to put together a rough picture of it, through the occasional slip ups or apparently deemed trivial enough to be mentioned reveal of certain things, the older speedster is ashamed to say he has a somewhat fuzzy detailing of Bart’s childhood. 

What turned out to be both an “occasional slip” as well as “trivial” mention of this picture, is Nathaniel’s involvement. Jay remembers the moment like it was just yesterday. Him, 14 years old Bart and his sweet Joan were sat out in the garden, enjoying the flickering light of fireflies, on a cool summer’s night, not too dissimilar to what he would expect for tonight, snacking on fruits and enjoying each other’s company. Bart, enamoured both by the star-speckled night sky as well as the insect light show, was lost in thought as he let slip to himself that he would never forgive Neut. 

He may have been 99 at the time, but his hearing was as sharp as ever. “Neut?” He questioned the boy. 

Jay had caught the split second the kid had widened his eyes in realisation of his own actions, before making a play for it. “Huh?” Bart pretended.

“I might be an old dog kid, but I’ve still got my tricks. You mentioned a “Neut.” Neut as in Neutron, perhaps?” Jay probes, connecting the two names together. He would never forget the day Bart came into their lives, the day he donned his tin hat and joined in on the Flash Family reunion to fight the radioactive meta. What a moment that was, one for the books. A moment, well, a person, that had changed his and Joan’s lives for the better. 

With a cocksure laugh, Bart crosses his arms as he wiggles further into his seat, making himself comfortable. He teases with a smirk. “Old dog? Jay, give yourself some credit now, you’re the OG.” 

With a light chuckle, Joan looks lovingly to him as the glow of the night illuminates her. “You heard the kid old man, don’t be too hard on yourself.” 

Endeared, but feigning annoyance, Jay chews at his toothpick before pointing it at Bart. “Hey now, this isn’t about me son, this is about you never forgiving Neutron.” With furrowed brows, he leans with clenched fists on the table towards the younger speedster. “Is this-“ tone tender at the tragedy of what could’ve been. Not everyone had welcomed Bart with open arms upon his arrival, Wally kept a brief distance of distrust, as he figured out, that Impulse clearly had travelled to that exact point in time to prevent Barry’s death. Whilst Wally had seemingly hashed things out with the kid eventually, Jay had never brought it up until that night in the garden. “Is this about-“

Of course, Jay was entirely thrown off what he envisioned to be a heart to heart talk, as Bart interrupts with a poorly restrained snort. 

Spotting Jay’s raised brow in confusion, Bart sighs. “Sorry Jay, I was just imagining what it would be like to actually resent Neut like that and I couldn’t help myself.”

“That’s- I’m a little lost kid.” Jay confesses. 

Looking to both Joan and Jay, Bart ultimately decides to expand on what he meant. 

“Honestly, I was just thinking back to when Neutr- Nathaniel first explained to me what fireflies are. This was back in 2055, we were sat by a fire and he compared the ember sparks to them. I had no idea what they were, so he described them as these mythical creatures, almost part cyborg, little crash bugs with literal light-bulbs stuck to their butts! And all this time I believed him, turns out, he was just entertaining 12 years old me with fairytales.” The young speedster recounts fondly.

The conversation taking a different turn than what he was prepared for, Jay was left lost for words.

Joan chimes in. “So you knew him before you came here?”

“Yep.” Bart confirms. “Not for too long though, a year or two? It’s hard to pin-point when exactly can be considered our first meeting, but, I guess you could say I knew him for a while. He doesn’t have a single mean bone in his body, I was just being dramatic about his little lie, Nathaniel was one of the few allies that always had my back. I’m glad I got to pay him back.” He admits with a soft smile. 

With a flash of realisation, Jay asks. “So something did happen when you sped off to him first. I always felt like I missed something that day, you halted his nuclear regeneration, didn’t you?” 

Legs folded on the chair, Bart continues to huddle deeper into it. “Guilty as charged.” He admits with a small smile, continuing sincerely. “I would’ve told you but it never really came up again. Sorry Jay.”

Jay affectionately waves him off. “Ah, you have nothing to apologise for kid. Just glad I can still put two and two together.” 

“So this Nathaniel, he took care of you in your time?” Joan asks, with something akin to relief.

“Well, not rea-” the brunette automatically starts before he seems to second guess himself for a split second, something that Jay was glad he still had the skills to catch. “Yeah, I guess he did Joan.” 

Whilst Joan and him might have not been entirely convinced with the answer, knowing that Bart had at least someone in his bleak time to be around and at the very least embellish on things like fireflies, well, it was an incredibly rare occurrence to hear on the nice things of Bart’s time. And whilst Nathaniel of the present may never know of the actions of his original future self, both disastrous as well as heroic, Jay certainly does. He will always be grateful to the person who supported his child through such desolate times. 

Back to the present, Nathaniel asks. “Are you here to host one of the group talks today? I don’t remember scheduling you in, but maybe that was a mistake on my part.” The bald meta frets, flicking through his clipboard as he second guesses himself.

The retired hero rushes to clarify. “Oh no, no. Don’t worry kid, I’m just here to hand over Bart his phone, he left it at home, do you know where I can find him?” 

“I haven’t seen him today but- Oh! Dr Dorado!” Neut exclaims as he waves, catching the scientist’s attention. 

Noticing the hero’s presence, Eduardo Sr. rushes to the two. “Jay! It’s so good to see you, what are you doing here?” 

“You too Eduardo, sorry to disturb your hectic schedule but as I was explaining to Nathaniel here, I was just wondering whether you knew where I could find Bart?”

With widened eyes, the shorter man steps back a bit as he looks to Jay with confusion. “Your guess is as good as mine. He hasn’t been around here in over a week. In fact-” the doctor seems momentarily conflicted, before he decides to share with the runner. “Outsiders’ activities aside, Eduardo seems to be having a hard time getting a hold of your kid too. He came back from El Paso yesterday in a terrible mood because Bart did not show up. Do you think they’re maybe having some issues?” The father confesses with concern.

The heaviness from when he expressed his worries previously today to Iris and Barry had returned, hitting Jay by a tenfold. “He- he didn’t show up yesterday? He’s not here?” 

The shorter man shakes his head in confirmation. 

Upon noticing the unease washing over the older man, Eduardo Sr. moves to sit Jay down by the waiting area as he joins him. Nathaniel leaves to give them some space. 

“He’s not here.” Jay repeats to himself before his continues, hurt. “He left our family meal early saying he would be here. Why would he lie about that, why would he lie about yesterday.” 

Eduardo Sr. tries. “I’m sorry Jay. If I find out anything through Eduardo, I’ll be sure to let you know.” 

Jay responds with a defeated sigh. “Thank you.”

“I know this is hard for you. Bart is a good kid, just like my son and I know how scary it can be when it feels like they won’t let us be there for them. But I’ve come to realise that’s just part of being a parent and we must learn to deal with it. I hope you manage to reach Bart and work things out with him. I also think it might be good for me, to tell Eduardo that something is going on with him?” The father seems to indirectly ask for Jay’s permission.

“Of course, I wouldn’t want whatever is going on to hurt their relationship.” He agrees. “And again, thank you Eduardo. I won’t lie and say the past years haven’t been difficult for me, especially ever since-” He still struggles to say it. “Having Bart by my side, well I wouldn’t know what I would do without him. Now that I’m having some troubles with him recently, well I guess I am taking it especially hard.” His brows furrow in accumulated concern from the past months. With strained exasperation, he confesses. “I’m just so worried. I don’t know what is going on with him.” 

“Honestly Jay, it’s hard being a father and- no, no. Don’t try to deny it sir.” The scientist reprimands. 

Jay laughs in response humourlessly. “No matter how much I may see Bart as my son, I am not his father, whether I like it or not.” Dejected, he sighs. “I always have to remind myself of that.” 

“Jay, sir. Excuse my language but that’s bullshit. Being a father isn’t about blood relation and you know that. There are so many out there who definitely don’t deserve the title, but you, señor, do. It’s also the reason why you’re so affected by all this. It’s only natural.” The scientist consoles. 

The retired hero responds with a heartfelt laugh this time as he nods. “Ah who am I kidding. My pity party won’t do anyone any good and I have a kid to take care of.” He finishes with resolution, before wondering out loud, “Just… where could he be…”

Back in Metropolis, a camouflaged Bioship returns to the loft rooftop. 

Imra and Reep fly back in through their back exit, the Durlan straining to carry the large device they successfully swept from their mission. 

“This mission was as easy as pie.” He brags as he places the catalytic nuclearisor on their dining table, for whenever Bart is going to work on it. 

“Isn’t the saying “as easy as bread”?” Imra questions, searching for the Bibbo’s diner take-out menu.

“Unless you have taken the form, down to the molecular level, of an Earth human, I suggest you leave the sayings to me boss.” He waves her off as he moves to help the blonde with the search. With a flick in his antennae, he zeroes in on the mess of papers scattered throughout the rest of the loft, with a certain speedster snoozing away on the floor. “What the-”

The Legionnaires share a look, before walking to check on him. 

Star-fished on his back, across an ocean of blueprints and calculations, the auburn-haired boy is lightly drooling away as he naps. 

The green hero gently kicks at the boy in an attempt to wake him. Knowing from previous missions that the speedster is usually a light sleeper, the continued steady breaths of sleep surprise the two. Squatting, Cham tries to shake the human awake. 

“Maybe you should-“

“Already way ahead of you.” Imra agrees as she superficially reads Bart telepathically. “Kid’s deep in sleep, completely knocked out. Seems like the poison has done more of a number on him than he let on to us.” She concludes with a frown as she joins Cham to a squat. “Should we just let him sleep?”

“It’s half six and his free day. Isn’t he supposed to be with Jay at this time? He might get suspicious.” He rasps.

The Titanian raises her brow in thought. “I suppose you’re right. Better safe than apologetic.” 

“You mean sorry.” 

“That’s what I said!” The blonde argues in a whisper, before collecting her cool, as she brings her hand to her temple, emanating gentle psychic waves to wake the boy up. 

“Ngh.” Bart blinks away his sleep, before he rolls his barely open eyes to the two other time-travellers. Upon seeing them, he groans as he slowly sits himself up with a squint. “You guys were fast.” He gravels. 

“Mission was smooth but we were away for a couple of hours, it’s half six now.” Imra responds.

“Oh.” He nods, lethargic. Only now does he realise a sheet of paper is glued to his cheek. 

Damn is he slow today. He thinks, frustrated.

With a huff, he peels the sketch off his face. “Now. I know what it looks like, but I actually did manage to roughly come up with a complete prototype with all the parts.”

“Really?!” Reep exclaims, excited. “What-”

A loud and hungry rumble interrupts the Durlan. 

“Hah.” Bart laughs away, embarrassed before deadpanning. “Yeah, no, I’m starved. Kinda forgot to snack. What are you guys having for dinner?” 

“Uh…” The two heroes share a look from the side of their eyes as they smile at him sheepishly. 

Exasperated, he says, “Oh no- not again. Bibbos? Really? You guys live in “The City of Tomorrow” just to eat the same grub every day? I swear, it’s like you haven’t eaten anywhere else since I last took you two out.” 

Their silence tells him all he needs to know. 

“Frankly, this is sacrilege. You’ve been in this era for over a year and the best you can do is Bibbo’s? I’m gonna fix this right here, right now.” He decides, determined, speeding to collect his papers, phasing them into the safety of the vault. Matting down his t-shirt and jeans, he proposes, “Heard there’s a fair in Centennial Park. You guys coming?” 

“Don’t you need to be home soon?” Cham reminds him. 

“Meh, it’s only like what, half five in Central? Won’t be needed back for a while.” He shrugs off. “Besides, I want to hit the DDR machines.” He grins excited, stretching his sleep away in preparation.

“D D R Machine?” The blonde questions.

Cham attempts to whisper in her ear. “I remember Charles mentioning it once. Said it was some of the best piece of tech to come out of the 20th century.”

Bart smirks to himself at the feat of the two Legionnaires no longer resorting to telepathic communication around him. In fact, it’s been long over a month since they have. He counts their lowered guard around him as a win, which considering how his day has been going, is something he’s holding dearly to him. 

“20th century?” Imra mouths back to the Durlan in awe. Looking to Bart’s grin, she clears her throat. “What if we run into Clark and his family?” Remembering that they haven’t shared their meeting with Superman with the runner, she backtracks, “If they see you with two strangers randomly in Metropolis, it might arouse suspicions.”

“I think you’re overestimating the man who wears black frames, thinking that it can mask his brick-wall of a body.” He counters with crossed arms. “Besides, since you two approached I’ve been keeping tabs on League files. I know for a fact that he’s on Watchtower rotation tonight and I doubt his family will visit the festival without the big guy himself.”

“Well…” Imra starts with a hand to her hip. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to celebrate our wins a little. It’ll be good for our morale.” She glances to Cham for agreement. 

He relents, “Fine,” Before morphing into his human appearance. “I guess it would be crash.”

“Ooooh, there he is, it’s Chad himself, making a comeback, ladies and gentlemen make some noise!” Bart hollers as he raves at Cham’s disguise. 

“I told you, his name is Tom!” Reep reminds him with a finger pointed to him, annoyed. “His name is Tom, he has two younger sisters and he collects 20th century stamps.” 

“Right.” Bart surrenders with his hands up and a raised brow. Half-heartedly, he continues. “My bad. Anyway, Tom over here is ready, what about you boss?”  

“Not all of us can get ready in a second.” She says, re-doing her hair into its casual look. “Cham and I will also take a while to fly to our meeting point away from base so, how about we meet by the 7-Eleven by Planet Circle in ten?” 

“Sounds crash.” Is what he leaves them with, dashing to the store immediately.

Chapter Text

Boisterous laughs soar through the crowd as the three time travellers navigate the festival. 

Walking past the various food and game stalls with wide-eyed wonder, the Legionnaires can’t control the smiles that take over them. 

“This is crazy…” Reep says in awe. “I can’t believe we are in an actual 2020 Festival. Did you guys see that? They have rustic hot dogs!” 

Bart snorts at that. Grabbing the two other heroes by their shoulders, he walks them to the hot dog stand. “What kind do y’all have back home? Don’t tell me they fly or spit fire or something. Cause that would be crashest thing ever.” 

“Well for starters, the buns are shaped like dogs.” Imra supplies as she scans the options of toppings as they queue. 

“No way, for real?” The speedster laughs. “I changed my mind, that’s the crashest thing ever. I don’t think I’ll ever know peace, knowing I’m stuck with these stone-age buns.” He mourns.

“The meat’s different too.” Reep adds. “All of the UP get their food supplies from Winath.” With a leer he mentions. “Or what I like to call, Imra’s boyfriend’s ho-” The shapeshifter is interrupted as he slaps himself.

“Hah! Nice one hermana.” Bart high-fives the telepath. 

With a smug grin, she steps forward as their turn to order comes around. 

Standing by a table, half-way through their own meal, the Legionnaires watch in horrified astonishment as the runner woofs down his sixth hot-dog. 

“You’d give Charles a run for his money.” The blonde says as she watches him start on his seventh. 

With a mouthful, he responds. “Who’s that? Your boyfriend?”

Cham shivers at the thought of it. “Don’t even joke about that man, Garth would have your head!” 

Bart points out. “Ah, so your man’s a hothead then, noted.” 

“He’s not my- Cham’s just being a dumb kid, ignore him.” Imra brushes him off as she aggressively takes a bite. 

“Hey now, I totally get the appeal girl, the hot in hothead is there for a reason.” The runner reasons  with understanding as he chews. “And only the hottest of guys can pull it off.” He acknowledges as he fondly thinks back to rich, dark eyes, paired with a proud smirk. Remembering that he still hasn’t replied back to Ed since this morning, he shoves the remains of the hot-dog into his mouth, pissed at himself. 

“I don’t- it’s not that. Cham’s convinced that he likes me, but I don’t see it. We’re just really good friends.” Imra explains as she dusts off her hands. “After all, it was him, Rokk and I who founded everything. Of course we would be close.” She looks away wistfully. 

“Aren’t you curious though? Can’t you just-” Hands to his head, Bart wiggles with exaggeration. 

Unimpressed, she raises her brow. “No. I have bigger things to worry about and unlike the rest of my people, I try to generally respect others’ headspace. Especially that of my friends and peers.” 

“Fair game.” He nods in respect. 

Reep leans down to Bart’s side, whispering. “She doesn’t realise that both Rokk and Garth have been beefing for her affections since the Diamond ages.” 

Diamond ages?  Bart notes to himself. “You’re quite the gossip man, kinda off topic but how old are you?” 

“I’m-”

A snort interrupts the Durlan. “He’s a worm. In our terms, he’s 15.” The telepath teases before quickly adding. “I’m 18.”

“I’m older than both your ages combined!” Reep hisses with an embarrassed flush.

Imra fondly doubles down with crossed arms, reconfirming. “He’s 15.” 

“The hell, if you’re 15 why’d you make yourself so tall!” Bart confronts as he looks up to the shapeshifter. Pressing down the top of the younger hero’s head, the speedster demands with a laugh. “Shrink!” 

Trying to whack the speedster away from him, the two boys shove at each other. 

Breaking the fight up, Imra drags the two back to the crowd. 

Grass green eyes scan the stalls the trio pass by, before Cham laments with a sigh. “I wish we could try everything here, but it’s impossible with all the queues.” 

With a sneaky smile, Bart points to their side. “Oh guys, you just have to try sitting on that bench over there, it’s like the crashest part of the fair!” 

Not knowing any better, the two heroes head to the bench as unbeknownst to them, the runner speeds off to all the food stalls. 

A couple seconds pass as the two future heroes questioningly wait whilst they sit. The Titanian looks around them as she realises, “Wait, where’s Ba-”

Of course, that’s the moment he joins the two by the bench. “Ta-da!” He announces, as he lays across the table an assortment of all the festival’s food. 

Stunned speechless, the Legionnaires can’t help but stare at what’s laid before them. 

“Take your pick, cotton candy, churros, fried chicken, pulled pork, cheese-soaked fries, bacon wrapped fries, tacos, Big Belly Burgers, Chicken Whizee shakes, all of the ice teas-”

“H-how?” The younger boy interrupts. 

“Hey I wasn’t finished.” Bart pouts, light hearted, before he answers, clicking his tongue. “Come on now Cham, do you really have to ask.”

Sat next to the Durlan, Imra leans forward to Bart, whispering. “You did pay right?”

Loudly rolling his eyes, Bart responds. “Doi.” Passing around paper plates, he motions to the food. “Just take whatever you guys want and whatever’s left, I’ll eat.”

Sipping the last droplets of the ice tea, the three time travellers tidy the trash away as they head to explore the rest of the festival. A brief group of shrieks passes them by, as they turn their attention to the monstrous ride of a rollercoaster before them. 

Cham and Bart share the same thought with a wide grin, before Imra bursts them out of their bubble. 

“Oh no, no no. No way, I’m out of here!” The blonde panics as she turns to walk away. 

“Oh come on Imra, just one ride, you can close your eyes!” Reep begs as he grabs her arm to stop her. 

“No way.” Bart says, incredulous. “How can you be afraid of rollercoasters? You’ve flown faster speeds.” 

Groaning, the Titanian turns to explain herself. “Clearly you’ve never been on the Titan rides. Besides, phobias are irrational, there’s no sound reason for it. I just hate them! Unless you guys want me to scream nonstop and then throw up fair food all over you, I suggest I sit this one out.” 

“Well, you heard her.” Bart loops his arm around Reep’s, dragging the Durlan along with him to the queue. 

“So…” The speedster starts, pocketing his hands. Wait, where’s his moded phone? Ugh, fuck. “ “Rokk and Garth” was it?”  

Cham winces before giving Bart the side-eye. “No…?” 

The shorter hero stares at the shapeshifter with a deadpan look.

With a slouch, the Durlan tries to compromise. “Before… was just a slip up. I got excited! It won’t happen again. Besides, we’re surrounded by-” Reep finishes the sentence by looking to the people around them. 

“Come on now Cham, I know you get people. How they are. They literally won’t give a shit nor put two and two together.” Bart insists with an arm around Reep’s shoulders. “Besides, it’s not like you two were telling me anything drastic, just reminiscing about home. You know you can trust me, after all-” The corner of his smirk slips up with a slight tick. “I took a whole squads worth of rat poison for you two. It’s the least you could do.”

Despite excelling at undercover work, the Durlan remains a sensitive kid. Guilt eating at his face, he corrects, dejected. “Botulinum.” 

“Oh right, oops.” The runner feigns.

A relenting sigh escapes the taller hero, “Fine,” before he continues with a hushed voice. “Cosmic Boy and Lightning Lad. Magnetism and electricity. The same age as Imra, they were all doing that right of passage thing, coming here to look for some kind of opportunity.” He alludes.

Earth being an opportunity planet for extra-terrestrials? Noted. 

“My dad was on the cruiser at the time and the apparent target of a terrorist group.” 

“Ah right, your dad’s loaded.” Bart nods, thinking back to when Imra let slip that Reep’s father was the richest man in the galaxy.

“Yup and that comes with a lot of enemies.” The Durlan confirms with worry. “The three saved his life but also realised that it was a red herring. Another attack was imminent.” Stopping himself to recollect his thoughts, with a deep breath, the shapeshifter brushes over some things. “Anyway, a bunch of stuff happened and they saved his life again. He decided that the-” Hastily looking around, he continues. “Uh, “government” could use people like them and has since then funded everything. And the rest is well, I guess you could say, history.” Reep concludes, nostalgia laced with bittersweetness.

Brows furrowed sympathetically, the speedster consoles the younger with a couple gentle taps to his back.

“That’s a pretty crash story man. Hey, you think those two would’ve gone on the ride with us?” 

Reep rasps a cackle at that. “Rokk’s the kind of dude who would’ve stayed behind with Imra out of support. Garth’s a good guy, but a bit of an adrenaline junkie, something tells me you two would either love or hate each other.”

“Hah! Why not both?” Bart jokes before he nudges his elbow to the Durlan’s side. “What about you amigo? You love or hate me?” 

“You’re okay.” The shapeshifter says fondly before he cheekily adds. “But no matter how many times you ask, you’re not getting a ring.” 

The speedster dramatically wails to the sky as he laments. 

Cham giggles at this, before the two are called up for their turn. 

Printing their flash-cam rollercoaster photos, where Bart was perfectly posed upside down on the ride and the shapeshifter morphed his face into something indescribable, Cham hastily looks around for the tall blonde. 

Nudging the other, Bart nods to Imra. “Calm down Cham, she’s over there shooting some ducks.” 

“Ducks?!” He panics.

“Cardboard ducks my guy. The ones that spring back up.” He clarifies, walking towards their leader.

Approaching the shooting-stall, the guy who runs it is cowering at the side. “Lads, be careful, this one’s unhinged.” He warns. “At first I thought she was just a sweet lassie, threw me a whole wad of cash. But she’s been shooting non-stop since and doesn’t even take a break to collect any of the prizes!” He says in distress.

“I’m so sorry sir-” Reep hurriedly apologises before Bart takes over with a slap to the Durlan’s back. 

“Give us a second sir, we’ll talk to her.”  He assures the owner.

Standing next to the Titanian, he leans up to whisper, “You’re doing great boss, keep at it.”

With a brief quirk of her face in surprise, she looks to the runner with a smirk, before re-eyeing the crossed sight of the toy-rifle. “You got it.” She speeds up her shots and hits each cardboard target, row by row. Hitting the final duck before the rest reactivate back upwards, a celebratory bell rings as confetti bursts from the stall’s ceiling. 

The time travellers share a look of bewilderment, before the three jump to cheer and celebrate. 

“Wow, that’s never happened before.” The owner timidly joins them from behind the booth. “Please, choose your prize dear.” Before he nervously whispers, “And please leave.” 

“Oh, it’s okay, we don’t need any prize.” Imra kindly refuses. 

“Come on now, you earned it, you can choose whatever you want!” Bart insists. “Hell, you can take all the prizes even!

“Uh, no she cannot.” The owner rushes to clarify anxiously.

Ignoring him, Bart assures. “Choose boss, it’ll brighten up your guys’ place. Don’t think too much about it.”

Looking to him with uncertainty, she caves in. “Fine, that one please.” 

Handing over the Superboy teddy-bear, the owner softly smiles. “Good choice miss. Now, never, come back here, again.” He says politely as he gently shoves the three away from the stall. 

Walking back towards the crowd of festival goers, Bart expresses his admiration. “Crashest thing I’ve seen all day, if you’re such a good shot why don’t u carry any weapons on field?” 

With a modest look to the side, Imra starts to explain. “You see-”

A big, bulky guy shoulder checks her before she can finish. 

“Hey, watch it!” Reep yells at him. 

Looking like what Bart can only really describe as Sportsmaster, if he were both younger and uglier, the guy reacts to Cham by immediately turning to punch him. The speedster lightly pulls the shapeshifter by the back of his shirt, out of the way, as the telepath intervenes by grabbing the guy’s arm. 

“What’s your problem?” She confronts. 

Yanking his arm out of her grip, he seethes. “Nothing. Just reminding you females to stay in your lane.” 

Did he seriously just say that? Unironically? She mentally asks in disbelief.

Welcome to the 21st century, the time of the sexists, racists and everythingists. Bart responds, keeping his eye on Ugly and his crew. 

I think I’ll just mentally- Imra tries to explain, before she’s interrupted by Ugly shoving his way into her space, step by step, as she backs away.

“You thought you were hot shit back there huh, wasting my fucking time. Why don’t I take you there and show you what a real shot looks like.”

Did he just threaten to- Reep thinks in shock before Bart interrupts.

Yup, okay Boss, what you in the mood for.

Dissipating the situation n-

“G. Gordon was right about them female hero freaks. Brainwashing entitlement into you little girls.” One of the guys behind Ugly spits, pushing his way towards Cham and Bart. “And you pathetic excuses for men, maybe if we give you a beating or two, you can still be saved from the Gay infecting you.” 

Side-eyeing some random guy walking past them with a glass bottle, Bart gently yanks Cham behind him as he barks out a laugh. “Oh man, about that, it’s too late I’ve got some bad news for you-” 

Now! Imra commands. 

Bart speed grabs the bottle and immediately smashes it against the first Ugly’s head, before speeding back up, slipping the glass into the other Ugly’s hand. The first guy turns to the direction of Bart’s attack and as his eyes land on his friend grabbing the broken bottle, Imra sends them a mental suggestion, tricking the Uglies into thinking the fight was amongst each other. 

Grabbing the two boys, she rushes them away from the scene. 

“What the hell was that?!” Reep gasps as he tries to collect his breath. 

“Brainwashed meat, don’t got any of those back home?” Bart responds as he searches their new environment. 

“Well, yeah. But not over being a girl and stuff. Well at least, not on Earth. It’s supposed to be the planet of the free and equal.”

“Glad to hear it gets better in a thousand years when we’re all dead.” Bart says offhand. Noting the appalled silence from his friends, he looks to them. “What! …Too much?”

Clearing her head with a shake, she holds them both by their shoulders. “Are you two okay?” 

Though clearly affected, Reep nods, whilst Bart shrugs unfazed as he says “This was nothing for us, the real question is are you okay? Ugly had it out for you specifically.” 

“I’m fine.” Imra insists, more to herself than the two. 

Unconvinced, Bart sighs. “Well, we can’t end our festival experience like this. I’ve got an idea.” He teases with a playful smile, guiding them to where he spotted the DDR machines. 

Astonished, eyeing the set-up, the two other heroes break into a smile of wonder. 

“The finest piece of 20th century technology.” Reep whispers in awe. 

“There’s a spot still available, who wants to go first?” Though neither of the two answer, the shapeshifter looks seconds away from passing out from excitement. 

Sharing a look with the telepath, they push the Durlan forwards, the two urging him up onto the platform to compete against a red-headed girl. 

As the countdown ends and the music begins, the two competitors start to move to hit the coloured arrows on their floor mats, in sync, with the rhythm shown on screen. 

“What does D.D.R even stand for?” The blonde leans down to ask the speedster. 

“I thought you were a huge fan?” He questions, with an amused quirk of the lips.

With a bashful guilty smile, she confesses. “Well, not so much me, Bouncing Boy always makes a point that I don’t “get” pop-culture. When he finds out that Cham and I have been on one of these things before him, well let’s just say, I’m never gonna let him live it down.” She grins. 

“I like the way you think hermana.” He smiles supportively, before connecting a loose end. “Oh so that’s Charles.” 

“We really have to watch what we say around you.” The Titanian crosses her arms with pretend weariness. 

“Not really, it shouldn’t take a mind-reader to know that you can trust me.” He digs as he casually inspects his nail-beds.

Defeated, Imra gives in. “This isn’t anything personal. But you told us yourself too, with our current resources being tight on getting us anywhere near back home, our only chance of return is by preserving things as much as possible.” 

“The fact that you guys came to me in the first place was already enough of a deviation Imra.” He argues. “If you want any support in the so called “preservation” of things, that you and Cham obsess over, then it might help for me to know what the actual key events are.” 

Frustration boiling over, the blonde holds her ground. “We actually have a home, time and place to return to Bart, you wouldn’t understand.” As soon as the words leave her, she’s hit with a wave of guilt. “Grife, Bart, wait- I didn’t mean it like that.” She starts, eyes apologetic.

The lack of upset shown by the speedster takes her slightly off guard. With steely eyes, he lays clear. “I know what you meant. And you’re not wrong. Look, your chances of returning home aren’t zero, if there is even a single second of the stream re-aligning itself with at least 99% of yours, then someone from back home collecting you, is basically guaranteed. But if and when that moment takes place, is a big damn unknown, so until then, I suggest you guys better get comfortable around here.” 

Lips peeled back in self-dissapointment, Imra reasserts herself. “Bart, I’m really sorry. That was out of line of me.” She says, the blues of her eyes, genuine. 

He simply shrugs in response, tone set in agreement. “Don’t be, like I said, you didn’t say anything false.” 

“No, I-” She huffs, exasperated. “You were right. Reep and I need to get used to all this, whether we like it or not. It’s just- when, I first came to-” this planet, she leaves out, “- I never expected to be in this kind of situation.” 

With crossed arms, Bart looks to her to continue. 

“My people have no boundaries. It’s the reason why there’s little to no crime there. Everyone knows everything about each other.” Rubbing at her hands, she explains. “On paper, it works well. In practice, I guess it does too. We don’t have people like “Ugly” and his crew, their kind of archaic mentality had long been weeded out of existence. We think we’ve got it all figured out, but-”, she chuckles humourlessly, “Anyway, I guess I got bored one day. There were rumours of practicing restraint and discipline and I thought, might as well give that a go.” Face filled with wonder at the memory, she smiles. “It was like discovering a whole new world. I realised people were so much more than just their thoughts, the way they presented themselves, their actions, it all matters too.” She laughs fondly. “Body language, expressions, acting, I had to study what comes to others without a second thought. It was a crazy experience for me.” The blonde confesses. “Everyone called me diligent, thought that I did it to hone my skills. My peers recommended I leave home to apply to the, well, I guess you could call them the federal police.”   

“Is that why you’re such a good shot?” Bart interjects, leaning against one of the bar-stands. 

“Yep.” She confirms as she joins him. “It took a while for our, uh, gig, to be fully set up so I was at the academy for a bit.”  

The runner nods at this.

“We were all full of awe and love for the universe, with a passion to protect everyone. We were just so inspired by-” With wide eyes, she stops herself, clearing her throat. Taking in a deep breath she continues. “We knew there was so much for us to learn. I was so excited for my team.”  She divulges, eyes moist but voice steady. “I always knew it was a big world out there, but-” She rubs at her face, exhaustion becoming apparent. “We are truly nothing in the grand scheme of things. All that power-” of the time sphere, she neglects, “But we still lost people. All this time, we were trying to prevent a ripple effect, just for things to turn into a damn tsunami. People back home think we have it all figured out, but if that were the case how come people died on my watch. I don’t know if I even deserve to return back home.” She finishes, composed, but with eyes zeroed to the floor.   

Crunch.  

Turning to the noise, she catches the runner munching away on potato chips. 

Caught in the act, he smiles guiltily. “Sorry, backstories make me hungry. Salvaged these from behind the bar counter.”

With an incredulous laugh she shakes her head, defeated. “What was I thinking.”

“What do you mean?” He asks with a frown, through a mouthful of snacks. 

The Titanian crosses her arms in discomfort. “You’re Bart Allen. We’ve all read the history files. By Saturn, what I said must sound so stupid to you.”

“That’s not true.” 

“We know your story Bart, all this must seem like child’s play to you.” 

“Knowing and understanding are two different things. Everything you’ve just said, I understand what you mean. I was beating myself up over the same thing earlier today.”

The telepath questions him with a raise of her brow.

“If the toxin had hit either you or Reep, I’d be stuck with a dead body. Then what? Whether you like it or not, I’m just as responsible over all this as you are. Now, let’s talk about actual dead people, Wally. I came here to ensure a better life for everyone and what happened? Earth almost disintegrated. My cousin ended up sacrificing himself. All that, that’s on me.” 

“No it’s not-“

“Yes it is, just as much as whatever deaths you’re referring to, are on you. All these counselling books and whatever say otherwise, but the thing that’s kept me going is taking it as a part of life and moving on. Acknowledging these things, is what people like you and me need to remember. It makes the weight of our actions so much heavier and it’s something that we need to live by.” He explains, words ringing in his head as a self-reminder.

“Wow, I think I feel even worse now. You’d make a terrible counsellor.” She says as she steals a chip.

“Good thing that’s Ed’s job and not mine.” He shrugs before offering up more of his chips. “Listen, the fact that you’re having all these thoughts, it’s just a sign that you’ve officially joined my club.” 

“What club?” 

“Come on now, do I have to spell it out.” 

With a snort, she says. “Anyone ever tell you, you’re a bit of a dick.”

“That’s funny, people usually say I’m more of a Wally.” He obfuscates before a soft look settles on him. “But you know, it’s nice for a change.” 

“What is?” 

“To have others on the same, well, at least similar, page as you. We’re a team Imra. Ring or no ring.” 

A smile of confidence overtakes the two. Looking up to the corner of her eyes, she tries to remember. “What is it that you always say, we’ll crash all modes?”

“You get it.” He confirms with a grin. 

“Cham’s still up there, huh.” The blonde notes.

“Pretty sure this is his third song.” The runner points to the DDR platforms with a chip. “He’s had his fun. You versus me up next?” 

“Bet on it.” The Titanian agrees with a smirk.

Chapter Text

“The kids will be fine Iris, it’s not like a couple of civilians are watching over them. Artemis and Will know what they’re doing.” Barry reassures as he wraps his arm around his wife.

Sat in the living-room, enjoying the once in a blue moon moment of peace to themselves, commercials play in the background as they wait for Back To The Future 2 to start airing. Iris eases herself against her husband at his reminder. 

“I know.” She acknowledges, though more to herself than the blonde, before she bristles. “Ugh, when is the takeout arriving?”

Rubbing her shoulder, the blonde is amused at her impatience. “Who here has the meta-metabolism again?” 

“Sorry Bear, I guess I’m just so used to everything being so fast with all of you around, it’s like the normal world around me has become so slow.” With a groan, she rubs at her face before moving to rest her head against the runner’s shoulder. “Anyway, I should most probably get used to this. We can’t always rely on Bart or Jay to look after the twins for some alone time, especially now with Jay joining the League.” 

The hero lets his head fall back in complaint. “Don’t remind me.”

With an amused quirk of her lips, Iris calls him out. “What happened to Mr. “I want nothing more than to run side by side with you father”.” She quotes, with an exaggerated pitch. 

Flustered, Barry sits upright. ”Iris! That’s not funny.” Re-composing himself, he continues. “Besides, I meant what I said. I can’t deny how much of an honour it would be.” He nods to himself before he continues. “But I already have to worry so much about having Bart out on the field and that’s knowing that he can take care of himself. Now I have to worry about another family member, one, who’s about to turn 102 no less!” He expresses, distressed. 

Kneading the knots out of her husband’s neck, she consoles. “You know Dinah wouldn’t let him join if he weren’t in the right condition to take care of himself Barry.”

Relaxing into the massage, Barry mutters. “I know, but-“

A buzz of their phones interrupts the two. 

Unexpected, they share a raise of their brows before Barry speeds to check the notification. 

“I knew it, the twins are in trouble?” Iris frets.

“No, no, it’s from Jay.” Barry shows her the message that’s been sent to their family group chat, sans Bart. 

Back to the Future 2 starts playing in the background. The couple look to the hero’s phone.

J.G: Spoke to Dr. D, Bart hasn’t been at the centre in over a week and wasn’t with Ed yesterday either. I don’t know where he is, but I told you 2 something isn’t right with him!

Iris joins the speedster as she sits herself straight too, letting out a disappointed “Oh” at the news.

“Oh thank God.” Barry mutters to himself in a whisper.

“Barry!” The younger reprimands. “This means Bart might be hiding something very serious from us!” 

“Sorry, sorry!” The blonde surrenders with semi-raised hands. “Just glad they’re still taking things slow in the end.” He tries to pass off trivially, poorly hiding his coy face.

“Ugh, not this nonsense again.” Iris disapproves with fingers to her head. “You do realise they’ve done it months ago already?”   

“What?!” Barry exclaims in shock. “How’d you know? Why didn’t you tell me?”

As if stating the obvious, she answers. “Oh, I don’t know, I only see him almost every day.” 

“I do too!” The runner points out.

Pushing herself away from him, she sits back with crossed arms and legs. “Saving people and fighting crime together doesn’t count. It might be Bruce’s idea of family bonding, but it definitely isn’t ours.” With a sigh, her shoulders drop as she looks to the TV, continuing softly. “Bart talks to me Barry and even when he doesn’t, I can read him relatively well. I was hoping he would tell you himself at some point, but I guess you’re both as emotionally stunted as the other. The only difference is he’s a teenager, you’re his grandfather.”  

With a groan, Barry looks up to the ceiling. “I can’t believe I miss the days of when Wally baked us all a cake with frosting spelling out that he “finally became a man”.” 

With a snort, she shakes her head, before looking back to her husband. “Why are you having such a hard time with Bart in the first place?”

“Look, I like going fast but I never expected needing to give the shovel talk anytime soon, let alone now. Dawn is barely four for crying out loud, boyfriends weren’t supposed to enter the picture within at least the next 12 years or something.” 

Iris looks to him with a completely unimpressed face of judgment. “Careful there Barry, you don’t want to lose the most progressive Flash competition to someone over a century old.” 

“Wait that’s not- I didn’t-“ Barry tries to explain before he gives up with a huff. “I don’t know Iris. He’s so much like you, Wally, Jay, even me, you’d think it’d be easy. But sometimes, it’s like we’re worlds apart. Wally and I had our differences and disagreements, but even then, it was like we were always on the same wavelength.” He smiles softly at the memory, before he rubs at his forehead, unsure. “Honestly sometimes, I don’t even know how to behave around Bart.”

With a sympathetic sigh, Iris rubs at his arm. “Listen, I have a solution for you that might just blow your mind with how simple it is.” 

A questioning raise of his brow asks her to continue.

With a wide, but soft, grin, she answers. “Just spend more time together. Look after the kids with him, drag him along to do non-mission things, go on one of your runs together. Small things like these, can make all the difference.” She reasons. 

“Fine, but how is that going to help us figure out what’s going on with him?”

Barking a laugh in disbelief, she explains. “If you can’t even start there, then I’m afraid you’re never going to get to the bottom of what he’s hiding.” 

“Well, let’s hope Jay has a better shot at it than me.” He acknowledges as he starts to type away on his phone.

The doorbell rings, Barry speeds to collect the food.

Iris looks to the TV, lost in thought. She just hopes that Bart isn’t in any trouble. 

Marty! I need you to go back with me!

Where?

Back to the Future!

Sat in the corner booth of a diner, awaiting the speedster’s monstrous take out order, the three time travellers enjoy the embracing cold of the milkshakes they’re all slurping away at blissfully.

“I think cow milk might just be my favourite type.” The Durlan confesses, savouring his strawberry drink.

“As opposed to?” Bart asks through his straw. 

“Nice try Bart. No spoilers for you, I’m still mad at the stunt you pulled by the DDR machines!”

“Oh come on now Cham, that was like hours ago.” The speedster brushes off.

“It’s been literally ten minutes.” The shapeshifter seethes through his teeth.

“Hey man, take that up with Tom. Not my fault he has two left feet.” The runner shrugs smugly, pulling at the straw to stir his chocolate drink around. 

“I do not! I was on top of the leaderboard before you knocked me off. It should be illegal for you to take part in such games.” Reep huffs with crossed arms. 

“If you ask me, it should be illegal for you to be so bad at it.” Bart throws him his signature shit-eating grin.

“It’s official, he’s worse than Garth. Imra, permission to eat him?” 

“Yeah, permission denied.” Is all she says as she sits back without a care in the world, relaxed, as she continues without end to slurp at her Oreo-milkshake. 

“Now, now, slow down there Reep, I have a boyfriend.”  Bart jokes with a wink before the Durlan declares war by kicking at him. 

“Ow, might need you to stop for a second.” The older boy says lightly with a slight wince as he gently pushes back against the other. “My legs are still kinda achey.”

Realisation passes through the Durlan as he immediately draws back. “Sorry, I forgot- I- are you okay?” He apologises, conscience-stricken.

“You got nothing to apologise for man, I’m fine.” The runner reassures.

Not wanting the awkwardness to persist, he continues. “Thanks again for covering my take out. You guys didn’t really need to do that.” 

“We did, you treated us to the fair food, we treat you to dinner with Jay. Besides, it’s pretty crash to say that we treated the original,” Flash, she leaves out, “to dinner. That’s like, historic.” 

With a snort, Bart nods in understanding. “I get that. It is pretty crash.” 

The shapeshifter fumbles with his straw as he restlessly looks around the diner. 

Heaving out a sigh, Bart questions him. “Yes Cham?”

Eyes dashing from the blonde to the runner, Reep searches through the other guests, before he braves himself to ask. “Well, I was just wondering…” He continues with a whisper, “What your final prototype might look like so far?” 

Bart’s eyes flit to the telepath. Getting the message, she leans forward with fingertips to both her temples, closing her eyes in concentration. 

“Alright boys, everyone’s perception of us is distorted. Go crazy.”

“Sweet. Based on how things are going so far, we can most probably get to New Genesis as planned in about three to four weeks from now.” 

Excitement fuels the speed at which the Legionnaires look to each other, eyes wide, exhilarated. The shapeshifter sputters out. “If we leave tomorrow?”

The runner responds with a patronising snort. “Are you kidding? The thing isn’t even built yet and we still need some parts.”

The Durlan deflates at that. 

“Also, I’m kinda offended you’d think that the best I could do with your time-sphere scraps is build some kind of slow-poke engine.” Licking his lips, the runner beams with a proud smile. “Two words, cosmic-treadmill.” 

A shared look of confusion from the others spurs him to clarify. “Well its name is pretty self-explanatory. Quite literally a treadmill, that powers Bioship to travel across the cosmos in just a couple of days. In fact, I estimate we’d reach New Genesis within a day tops.” He explains with steady, clear eyes, energetic smile still plastered across his face. 

“Within a day? That’s faster than the Javelin.” Despite their privacy, Imra whispers, awestruck. 

“I know.” The runner grins full of teeth, excited at the thought of his own creation being brought to life soon. A little similar, definitely not as overwhelming, to the palpitations he felt upon finishing up his own scrap-yard time-machine. Eyes lost in thought for a moment too fast for the other two to catch, Bart thinks back to his original timeline. Hands constantly scratched up at the handling of junk, clothes filthy from slaving away at the camps, covered in grease and grime, stomach numb in starvation, body heavy with exhaustion.  

With a slight shake of his head, thoughts clear up as he sucks at the straw of his chocolate drink. So sweet.

“And how do we use this “cosmic-treadmill”?” The Durlan asks. 

The speedster barks out a laugh at that. “Are you kidding?”

The telepath connects the dots. “You’re coming with us, aren’t you?” 

“Treadmill, runner. It’s a match made in heaven.” 

“We can handle this ourselves, we can’t be involving you.” Reep argues. 

Bart squints at that in pretend thought. “Based on the past three months, I’m not so sure about that.”

“We’ve got it covered.” The shapeshifter insists. 

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Bart pitches sarcastically, before he continues. “Besides the fact that you two are incapable of powering it, you must be out of your minds if you think I’d let you guys use my invention to frolic around the galaxy without me. If something happens to you two, that’s on me.” Lime green eyes pointedly look to the Titanian. “Surely, you understand what I mean.” 

We’re a team Imra. Ring or no ring.

The blonde breathes in deeply as the words ring in her head. She bites at the inside of her mouth. “Fine. The speed will definitely give us an advantage if we want even a chance at catching-” She stops herself, lips pressing into a line. 

“At catching? At catching who?” Bart pushes.

The silence fills up the space of the booth. The runner lightly snorts to himself as he plays uncaring. “Whatever. Anyway, no one is going anywhere until I finish fixing up some parts, get that kilo of Nth metal and figure out what material can resist the wear and tear of my run.”

“How’re you going to feed the energy to Bioship?” Cham asks, unclear.

“You explained to me when I was first drafting up designs that Bioship photosynthesises pure energy into her guts. We’re just gonna take those guts out and link it directly to the treadmill’s port.”

The Legionnaires look to him in slight disgust.  

Amused by their reactions, Bart smiles as he asks. “Any ideas for what we can use as the running band?” 

“Are we to assume that Bioship will be entering subspace?” The Titanian poses. 

“Yep.”

The blonde concludes. “Then surely Bioship’s skin can withstand your running.” 

“True, can she shed some for us?”

Cham interjects. “No. She can only control what’s organically linked to her. Any separation of it would hurt her.” With a shake of his finger, the Durlan comes up with an idea. “But, we could nick a sample of her exterior and grow it in a lab. Considering her cell structure, it should grow within a week, depending on how much you need.” 

Impressed, Bart teases. “Those Intergalactic-Biology skills sure are coming in handy right now, nice one amigo.” 

Abashed, the Durlan blushes as he scratches at his neck. 

“Any chance that treadmill can take us back to the 31st century?” Imra awkwardly laughs, in an attempt to mask her question as a joke. 

Humouring her, he answers. “Well, in theory anything going faster than the speed of light is a type of time travel. And if I had certain equipment, I could upgrade the treadmill to make use of that. But considering Earth is currently nowhere near the equivalent of interplanetary trade of your United Planets, we are stuck with the equivalent of stone-age tech. Our most advanced device, your time-sphere, has been fried into space-junk, so yeah, you can connect the pieces.” 

“History files said that your original timeline was a polluted wasteland. How on earth did you find the parts needed to build a time machine then?” The shapeshifter questions, face painted in confusion.

“I think I’m gonna take a page out of the Legion book of not sharing, considering I don’t know if I should tell you if your so called “history files” don’t say so themselves.” Bart replies with caution. 

“Good call.” Imra acknowledges. “Let’s not risk anything. Besides, I think your order is coming up soon.” She says as she looks to the kitchen counter, where boxes are being piled up into plastic bags. 

“Well then, snooze yah guys tomorrow?” Bart knocks twice on the table as he stands to leave to collect the order, a habit he’s picked up from Ed. 

“Huh?” Cham looks to him confused.

Imra smiles with a wide grin as she nods her farewell. “Snooze yah later KF.”

Chapter Text

The crinkling of keys fills up the peace of his home as Bart hangs them up, stepping at his shoes to remove them. Dimly-lit, the quiet of the house clues the speedster into thinking that Jay might not have returned from the library just yet. 

Heading to the kitchen through the living room, he looks forward to laying out the food in advance as a surprise, the grease of the diner being a shared guilty pleasure between the two runners. Joan had always pushed for the speedsters to eat a healthy meal, just because you two have the metabolism of a freight engine, doesn’t mean your fuel needs to all be junk, she would always insist. This lead to a tradition on quiet nights of Jay sneaking him out to indulge in an occasional quick bite of junk food, where upon the next day Jay would always without fail cheekily confess to Joan of their night of crime. 

Distracted by the sweet memories, a still body with a glowering face, sat at the corner of the room, spooks the living daylight out of Bart. 

“FU-udge! Jay, what the hell? Why are you sat there like that? It almost cost us our dinner.” He pants with a hand to his chest, making a show of the luckily still secured bags of take-out.

Old eyes zero in on to the young runner. Always typically charged with a black hole’s worth of energy, the boy’s movements appear just the slightest bit stilted, every move compensating for its lack of strength. Not having the lightest feet out there, Jay was never one to scare the other, always typically so alert. And if all the suspicious tell tale signs didn’t ring enough alarm bells, the fact that Bart simply put, looked exhausted, sure did. Worry and care overpower the angered frustration Jay had been stewing over in his armrest for the past hour, his pinched face loosening as he sighs.

This child…

Deciding against a confrontation, he relents. “What have you got there kid.” He strains to ask, heaving himself out the seat before following behind the young hero to the kitchen. 

With a cheeky grin, Bart swiftly twirls to face the older runner as he unpacks everything across the table. “Oh, I don’t know old man, only your favourite.” He beams, making a show of the fried chicken and waffles, packets upon packets of maple syrup piled upon each other. 

Jay huffs out an endeared laugh with a shake of his head as he sits himself across his ward. “No greens?” 

“Now, you know a meal isn’t a meal without some colour Jay.” The kid quotes Joan telling him off, as he opens up the boxes of salad, at the sight of which the grey haired man groans in complaint.

Plastic cutlery cuts and tears through the food, the two refuelling in comfortable silence.

“How was your day?” Bart asks through a mouthful of waffle. 

Choosing his words carefully, Jay settles with, “I guess you could say… eventful.”  

“Oh?” Bart responds casually, eyes zeroed on the food as he plonks more greens into the older speedster’s styrofoam box. 

“Stop that kid, are you trying to ruin my life.” Jay dramatically mutters, the two battling it out with the cutlery. 

“Jay, it’s called trying to extend your life. You’ll be 102 soon and who do you have to thank?” 

“You?” The old man replies, rolling his eyes.

“No.” The brunette responds jokingly, before he continues with mirth. “Joan and the Greens of course, my favourite band.”

A warmth envelopes the retired hero’s heart. Joan’s passing has been so devastating on him. He’s lost a lot of good people in his life, especially with his responsibility as a hero, but the repeated hurt of it all had paled in comparison to the pure heart-ache his love had left him with. Yet despite it all, Bart had supported him through it, somehow always knowing when to mention Joan to evoke fondness rather than hurt, reminding him that he’s not alone in all this, he has his son- well, he has Bart. 

Reluctantly munching on the leaves, he swallows before deciding to share the news. “Remember a couple months back when I saved that young man and his kid from the bus? And you joked during dinner about “how I still had it” and “never left the game”.”

Bart nods with a snort as he grabs open a second box of waffles. “I might need you to say that again so I can record it, for reasons.” 

“Well, it got me thinking that maybe, it was time for me to join a new club.”

With wide eyes, Bart excitedly rushes to confirm. “The League?!” 

To which Jay nods, eyes animated at Bart’s response.

“Woah, Jay. That’s so crash! Is it official? Are you going to wear your old suit? When do you start?!” The kid spills overwhelmingly as he heads to Jay’s side, throwing himself at him for a congratulatory hug.

Releasing the brunette from his arms with a laugh and an affectionate rub to his back, Jay answers. “Well, as of today, yes it’s official. I came back about an hour ago from Dinah’s flower shop, she confirmed I had passed all the physical and mental checks and am ready to start training for my first mission.” 

Back in his seat, Bart hyperactively continues to spill with a spark in his eyes. “Ready for your first mission omg, that’s so exciting! When is it? Do you think we can work on it together? Hey, why didn’t you join the Outsiders instead, we’re so much cooler, okay maybe not really, I don’t know, that’s up to debate, but wait- why do you need to train for it, is that standard procedure?” He rambles, slightly lost in thought.

Amused, he responds as he drizzles the third packet of syrup across his food . “Around the last week of this month I believe. I have to train for it because it’s going to be in space, there’s apparently some protocol and standard practice to go over.” 

With a full mouth, the time-traveller nods in understanding, “Right, right, space-belts and the whole shebang.” Reaching for his glass of water, Bart continues. “End of the month huh, do you know already where in space you’re headed?”

“I believe some planet named New Genesis? I think it’s the one your friend Forager is from. Apparently a two days trip via the Javelin.” 

Seconds slow down into hours as Bart processes where and when exactly his guardian’s mission takes place. 

End of the month. New Genesis.

…

“Based on how things are going so far, we can most probably get to New Genesis as planned in about three to four weeks from now.”

…

Oh God.

Any semblance of energy that Jay’s company or the food may have given him has been knocked right out of him as the stress of his anxiously racing heart eats at him. The dulled heaviness of his toxin-riddled body that he’s been lugging around all day resurfaces, weighing his bones down and a pressure starts building at the back of his eyes. 

He doesn’t feel so good.

Iris hit the nail on the head this morning when she called him out for being off his game, as all he can muster is a nervously pitched laugh as he says without a second thought. “Nah, Jay. You can’t go there. It’s too dangerous.”

The whiplash in the kid’s change of tone and attitude results in Jay looking at him, puzzled. 

With an uncertain chuckle, the older runner raises his brow as he focuses on tearing apart his food. “Okay, very funny kid. Nice try.”

Tone devoid of any hint of humour, desperation starting to bleed through as Bart doubles down. “Jay, I’m serious. You can’t go to New Genesis at the end of this month. I-I won’t allow it! It’s too risky! There’s a lot of stuff going on there, stuff that we don’t even know the half of! You could get seriously hurt!” 

Thrown off by the turn in conversation, the food is long forgotten as Jay looks at him hard with disbelief. He attempts to reason, “Kid, it’s to get a treaty signed, the mission is diplomatic in nature, it’s low ri-”

Bart interrupts, distressed. “You don’t even know what’s going on in that planet, let alone what’s going on with the rest of the galaxy. This isn’t just some regular mission, you’re going into it blind!”

“I told you, I’m going to be debriefed by the League during my training. I’m not going into it blind and frankly, I don’t appreciate your tone with me right now son.” 

Misplaced anger, mostly at himself and the Legion boils over as he directs it to his guardian. “Jay, you’re not listening! This is beyond the League! How can they debrief you on something that they don’t even know of!” 

“Oh and you do? You suddenly know everything now?” Jay responds snidely.

“No! I don’t! Which makes it even worse! But you have to trust me when I say that I know better than to let you on this stupid mission!” 

Done with both the conversation and the meal, Jay reaches for the phone stored safely in the depths of his pocket, tossing it on to the table. “Well that’s funny Bart, considering your word doesn’t mean much to me right now.” With a nod to the phone, his eyes pan from it to the kid. “Care to explain?” He asks coldly, nose flared and lips tight.

Glancing at his phone, the previous anger bleeds out of him as the brunette looks to the older runner with apprehensive confusion. “… I left my phone at home, what do you want me to say?” He answers, tone steady. 

“Paid a visit to the youth centre earlier today, looking to give it to you. Imagine my surprise when Dr. Dorado told me that he hasn’t seen you in over a week. That Eduardo was fuming that you bailed out on him yesterday. So, kid, understand when I say that right now, I can’t trust half of what comes out of that mouth of yours.” 

Drained of every drop of energy that has kept him running through the day, the pressure in his eyes keeps building, pushing against his skull, his chest tightening. Bart fixes his gaze to the corner of the table as he tries to explain his hurt and guilt away. “Okay, so what, I wasn’t in El Paso or Taos. I can’t go for a run? Have some time to myself?”

Incredulous at how the younger Flash is trying to spin it, Jay fumes. “A run ’till 3AM? Time to yourself which drains you to the point that Don bumping into you knocked you over? “So what” you say, do you take me for some kind of fool Bart?” 

Green meets blue as he protests. “No! Of course not! Jay, how could you say that-” Stopping, he deeply inhales before re-emphasising. “You’re getting side tracked worrying about the wrong thing. What matters, is you. This is about your safety, i’m only caring about you. You can’t go to New Genesis!” He pleads.

Palms atop the table, Jay stands into an imposing figure as he threatens. “Who do you think you are kid, brushing off my concern to tell me what to do, especially with all your lies. I’m the guardian and you’re my child. I’m supposed to take care of you!” He finishes, raising his voice.

Having never seen the older man this angry before, Bart looks up at him from his seat with wide startled eyes, before shifting them away as he quietly counters. “I thought we’re supposed to take care of each other.” 

Jay persists, tone grave. “I will only ask this once, answer me son, what is going on with you. I want the truth.”

Fiddling with a spare plastic fork, Bart carefully responds as he hesitantly fixes his gaze to the older man. “I was… helping a friend out with something.” 

He hears his guardian take in a steadying breath as he asks. “What were you helping them with and do I know this friend of yours?”

With a bite to his lips, Bart decides on “I can’t say.” 

Jay smashes his hands flat against the table in response, which rattles as he seethes. “Damn it Bart!”

Fuse having long shorted out, Bart loses it as he tosses the fork and rushes to stand, his chair toppling backwards as he mirrors the other runner’s position. “What’s your problem Jay?! Why are you breathing down my neck like this? Sure, I lied! Ever considered that I might have a reason? I only ever do my best to help everyone and this is how I get treated?” 

Up close he can see the tremble in the kid’s frown, eyes painted with hurt. Known for his soft heart, Jay tries to stand his ground. “That argument doesn’t get you very far in the hero-circle kid.”

Sardonically, Bart argues. “Right, my bad for thinking my family could cut me some slack or even try to have an ounce of faith in me. It’s been four years, I think I’ve long earned it by now, don’t you?” Voice lightly cracking towards the end.

“With how you’ve been behaving recently,” Jay retorts, continuing with emphasis, “I don’t think so.” And for extra measure, he adds. “Joan would’ve been so disappointed.”

The moment the younger registers his words, eyes wide and wounded before his brows and lips furrow, the formally retired speedster realises the regret in his actions.

“Shit, wait Bart-” He tries, hand reaching out in an attempt to right things.

With the same hand used to wipe away fleeting tears, the time traveller slaps Jay’s hand away. He sniffs. 

The beat of his heart fills up the building pressure in his head, Bart can’t hear anything but the ring of white noise as his wet eyes strain, refusing to meet Jay’s. His chest hurts. A pregnant silence saturates the air as he cleans the mess, picking up the fallen chair. 

Jay tries. “Kid, listen-“ 

“I’m staying the night at Ed’s. Feel free to text Dr. D to double check. Or not, I don’t know, don’t want to be too difficult of a ward for you. Good night Jay.” He leaves, eyes keeping clear from the older Flash. 

“For goodness sake, Bart wait, please just listen-” He tries, but it’s too late, the runner has long sped out of the house. 

Chapter Text

The squeak of porcelain plates being rubbed dry accompanies the background lull of the TV that fills up the peaceful atmosphere of the Dorado household. Washing up the day’s worth of cutlery, Eduardo Sr looks to the reflection of the window in front of him, where he spots his son slouched against the living room sofa, moping away as he scrolls through his phone. 

He sighs.

“Eduardo, leave your phone alone and come help your father out for a second.”

With a resigned flop of his arms, Ed glares at the ceiling before he moves to join his father. Handing over the freshly washed pan, the scientist spares his son a brief glance. 

“What’s the matter kid, after what I told you I thought you’d feel better about everything.” 

“Yeah, ’cause knowing that my boyfriend is hiding something from me is very re-assuring.” He jeers in response, mechanically drying what his father passes him. 

“Didn’t you tell me ten minutes ago that you’d give him space and time.” 

The doctor doesn’t need to look to know his son is grabbing onto the towel like it wronged him. 

The boy exhales in frustration as he confirms through clenched teeth. “Yes.” Before he continues, dejected. “It’s only been a day since we last spoke… I’m being stupid.”  

“Ah, don’t say that, you’re not being stupid. It’s summer and the two of you have been spending a lot of time together. Of course you’ll feel this way, you’re just being too hard on yourself, as always. Afraid I’m to blame for passing that on to you.” He jokes, glancing to catch the quiet snort of his son who’s sorting the dried plates back into the cabinets. 

Seeing the momentary lapse in mood as an opportunity, he continues. “Relationships… aren’t meant to be easy. But that’s okay, because it’s how you two face those problems together that defines it, not just all the good moments.”

Looking to his father with uncertainty, he relents with a sigh as he hangs the towel to dry. “I guess… God, I’m being so stupid, all this over a day, he must think I’m so needy and that’s why he needs space-“

He stops his son before he can spiral any further. “Edu, what did I just say, don’t do this. I won’t let you upset yourself over made-up scenarios in your head.” 

Before the zeta-beamer can reply, a buzz interrupts the conversation. Hands still wet, the shorter man asks. “Can you get that for me. Might be an update from the Dakota Lab.” 

Unlocking the phone from the dining table behind them, the meta’s eyes widen as he reads the message. 

“Eduardo?” 

“It’s from Jay! He’s asking if Bart has come by to stay the night?” 

“Well, I wouldn’t know. Has he?” He asks his son in surprise. 

Being met with no response, he turns to see his kid in thought. The moment he recognises the younger’s face of realisation, he tries to remind him. “Wait! No zetabeam-” 

“-ing at home.” He finishes, huffing out a laugh as he continues to wash the dishes. 

A burst of gold brightens up his room as he arrives, before he quickly flips on the light. Noticing the bundle on his bed against the wall, he sighs. 

Sitting himself beside the huddled pile of material, he plays casually. “First you stand a guy up, then leave him on read and now you hog his bed? Don’t really know what you’re going for here.” 

In response, the bundle only shrinks in on itself. 

Equal parts annoyed and endeared, the older hero gently pulls the blanket back to reveal the speedster curled beneath, face tucked into a pillow. At a notably slow speed for the runner, he tries to yank the blanket back over him, material restricted by the grip of the zeta-beamer. The two tug at it before the younger slips in strength, the cover torn away from him. 

He immediately buries his face further into the pillow.

“Okay, game over Bart, what’s going on.” Patience wearing thin, he grabs the runner’s arm to turn to face him. Met with resistance, he tightens his grip as he pulls harder, to which Bart cries out in pain. 

Letting go as if he burnt himself, Ed worries as he tries to put some distance between them. He frets, “I’m so sorry, Dios, are you okay?”

Turning to grab the other, the speedster stops him with a hysteric look. “No! Don’t go. You didn’t do anything.” He pleads quietly, breath panickedly uneven. 

Barely registering the words as he’s stopped in his tracks, shocked eyes take note of the red-splotched face he’s met with, lime eyes blood-shot and red-rimmed, cheeks smattered by the purple of burst capillaries. Instantly sitting himself back down, he covers the hand that grabbed him in an attempt to soothe the younger. With a loud whisper, he voices his concern. “What happened to you? What’s going on? Why are you- did someone hurt you?” 

The runner’s stuttered breathing and racing heart eventually evens out from the comfort, from which he visibly deflates, relaxing into the safety of Ed’s presence. With a dry, worn out voice, he answers. “No one hurt me.” He tries to reassure, though the moment his gaze finally fixes onto the warmth of the other boy’s eyes, he swallows, hurriedly looks away. “I’m serious, no one hurt me… it’s just- I guess I was kinda poisoned by some neurotoxin that’s supposed to kill a couple thousands of people or something.” He confesses in a rush, finishing with a weak smile of guilt.

Ed just stares as he processes the truth, not really knowing how to respond. As his thoughts slowly re-arrange, all he finally manages to conjure up is a hushed “What the fuck?”

With a rasp, Bart fondly points out. “What happened to your no swearing policy.” 

The taller boy ignores him, confronting him in worry translated to fury “How the hell did that happen? When did it happen? And why didn’t you call me for help?” 

The brunette tightens his grip on the other as he looks to their joined hands. “It happened… it happened this morning. And I was knocked out for half the day, so…”

With a deep breath, he clenches his jaw. “Bart.” He seethes. “Details! What is going on? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call this in to the team?” 

The speedster schools his face into something more neutral, which might've looked a little menacing if it weren’t for his puffy, patched, tear-stained face. “’Cause you’d be wasting their time. I’m all better now, slept through the worst of it. Just really tired and sore.” Looking to their hands, he rubs his thumb atop Eduardo’s hand before he continues, brow slightly furrowed. “Also ’cause it’s none of their business and I trust you. I just want to be with you right now.” 

Looking away, Ed laughs dryly with a shake of his head. “That’s really low, even for you.” 

Face showing he doesn’t quite understand, he says in earnest. “What do you mean? It’s true. You know I love you, of course I trust you.” 

The black haired boy can’t help himself as he sprawls his hand to cover his face, blush eating at him as he’s blindsided by the sudden declaration. 

Not that the runner hasn’t said it to him before. 

It took him entirely off guard the first time Bart had said it. The sun had set in El Paso and instead of returning home from the weekly Runaways meet up, the two boys had decided to sit on the ledge of one of the desert cliffs. 

Legs dangling off the edge, the runner let his head fall to the side as he enjoys the soft breeze. “Hey, this is just like the time we called a truce and became blood brothers.” 

At that point they had been together for two weeks. 

Kicking at the other, Ed laughs before he replies, “Blood brothers? Are you for real? Doesn’t that make things weird.”

“Whatever, it’s what started this.” The runner beams, flicking his finger back and forth between them, smile cheeky but eyes joyful. 

“I guess you could say that.” Humouring him, he fumbles through the bag full of convenience store snacks, in search for the ice cream they had bought earlier.  

For whatever reason, the plastic bag had decided to become a black hole that day, the search persisting for what felt like forever. An annoyed frown had taken root on his face as the furrow in his brow deepened with each passing second. 

Instead of ice-pops, he’s met with snickering turned into giggles, bubbling from the side. 

“Che, you try-” he starts, feigning annoyance as he faces the other. 

Green meets brown, catalysing a moment that the two will always treasure dearly.

“I love you so much.” 

At which, in classic Eduardo-style, he freezes, brain frying as it tries to process what just happened. 

“What?” Is all he can say, almost breathless.

Lime eyes roll in endearment, the runner’s perpetual faint blush whenever in the presence of the other, nervously deepening. He reiterates. “I said- “

“I- no I heard you.” The older interrupts, rushing to look out into the distance of the vast desert as his face flames up. 

“Did I say it weirdly?” Bart asks sincerely, his warm smile turning sheepish.

“No! No, no, no. It’s- I, obviously I-” He rushes to try to reciprocate, intertwining their fingers as his voice cracks at what feels like an apple lodging itself into his throat. His heart is pacing and his face might just boil off. 

What the hell is wrong with you Eduardo, you’re 19 soon, act like it. 

Eyes widen in realisation. “Oh.” The runner grimaces in embarrassment. “Man, I’m sorry, that was really post-apocalyptic 50’s of me.” With both thumbs, he affectionately rubs at the older’s palm. Shyly looking to it, he continues. “I know, you might think I’m going kinda fast,” at which he cheekily smiles at the other, “-but I really meant it. I know this era does things a little differently, so don’t worry, you don’t gotta say anything back, okay?” He assured with emphasis.  

What the speedster hadn’t realised that day was that the other was more than ready to return the same feelings, at least mentally. Eduardo had, according to himself, embarrassedly rushed to that stage too and was overly-conscious of letting it slip prematurely, which ultimately lead to his (again, according to himself) own demise, preventing him from confessing it in that moment, as well as throughout the duration of time that had passed since then. He kept telling himself, it’d be during the perfect time, done perfectly, he couldn’t fumble something like that. Not after how Bart had revealed it with all his heart. 

Since then, the runner has said it a couple additional times. From murmuring it off-handedly, thinking Eduardo wouldn’t hear, to chanting it throughout the heat of each and every moment whenever they had slept with each other. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you-“

One would think he’d be used to it by now, but yet, here he is, combusting again at the casual reminder of it. 

With a deep but quiet breath, he collects his thoughts. “Listen, I’m not going anywhere, I’m just gonna get you some water okay.” He assures gently with a squeeze.

Though his lips downturn at the reply, Bart nods as he reluctantly lets go of the other.

Flashing back to the kitchen, Eduardo finds his father sat by the dining table, reading. 

“And?” 

“He- he’s here.” He nods, scrunching his lips, which Eduardo Sr. recognises as his son hiding something.  

“… And?” He pushes. 

Eyes flitting away from his dad, he rushes to fill up a large glass of water. Clearing his throat, he says. “Uh, yeah, he’s really tired, from stuff. I think we’ll talk about everything later.” 

With a raised brow, the scientist speaks to his son’s back. “Eduardo, remember communication-“

“Yeah, yeah I know what I’m doing dad, don’t worry.” He says, watching the glass fill up. 

He has no idea what he’s doing, the Dorado’s think simultaneously.

His father shakes his head fondly as he reaches for his phone. “I’ll let Jay know then. Seems like the two had some kind of disagreement.” 

“He argued with Jay?!” He turns to his dad in surprise.

“Yes. Didn’t he tell you?” 

“Uh, he’s so tired, must’ve not heard him clearly or something. Yeah.” He tries to convince with a nod. 

Letting his son off the hook, the scientist resumes with his reading as he says. “If you say so. Oh and Eduardo, remember to leave the door open.”

“Dad!” He complains as blood rushes to his cheeks, shutting the tap off. “We’re just going to talk! I think he’ll want some privacy.” 

“Luckily for you two, there’s something called whispering. The door stays open for as long as you live under my roof son.” 

With a groan, he mutters a fine as he stalks away to his bedroom out of spite.

Joining the auburn haired boy by the bed, he hands him the glass to drink. With a quiet thanks, the runner groans as he sits himself up before downing the content in one go. 

Hunched over, the zeta-beamer sits awkwardly as he braves himself to ask. “So… any plans on telling me why there’s enough poison in you to kill a village?”

Setting the glass on the bedside table, the runner avoids his gaze as he rubs at the muscle of his calves and thighs, tense and still healing. 

The background noise of the TV from the living room consumes the silence. 

Ed’s knee knocks gently against Bart’s thigh as he moves to sit closer to the other. He whispers. “What’s going on, tell me.” 

The younger responds with a face of pure misery, mouth and eyes downcast. He just can’t lie to him right now. Doesn’t want to. He hates it.

“I’ve… Been helping out some people who feel lost. You know the drill.” He mumbles. 

“Okay.” Ed responds attentively, concerned eyes fixed on to to the other. “And you didn’t report them to the Outsiders or the Centre because?”

The runner hesitates before answering, kneading at his leg harder. “Because they need someone they can trust.” 

With a raised brow, the zeta-beamer takes personal offence to that. “So the two communities designed for that very purpose just didn’t cut it out for them?”  

The speedster folds his arms towards his stomach, shoulders hunched. “Ugh no, that’s not what I meant. They wouldn’t let anyone help unless it’s guaranteed that it’s kept on the low.” With a frustrated click of his tongue, he continues. “They’d be on my ass if they knew I told you this much. That’s how fucking ridiculous they are, but I have no choice on the matter, I can’t just sit and not help, they have no one else to turn to!” 

Eduardo fumes at this. “But it’s fair for me to do nothing? You came here out of nowhere, looking like shit, telling me that you were fucking poisoned by some WMD and I’m supposed to just turn a blind-eye to that? Are you insane?” 

Bart’s eyes strain as he responds, the weight on his heart, increasing. “You know that I can’t always tell you everything, it’s one of the first things I confessed to you. That’s what you signed up for when you started being more than my friend. You should know that.” 

The zeta-beamer waves his hand in negation as he stresses. “No, no, this is not like that. What you can’t tell me is always from the past, not stuff that’s affecting you like this in the now! All that was supposed to end when I joined the Outsiders and even before then, you still told me about all your missions.”

Sardonically, Bart scoffs. “Newsflash Ed, the reason I can’t tell you stuff from my past is cause it can still affect things today. That’s the whole point!”

“No it’s-” He groans, irritated. “-God, Bart, you said you trust me, why won’t you just tell me what’s going on!”

Exasperated, he folds his arms closer to himself. “Isn’t it obvious by now! Because I just can’t. It’s that simple, besides the fact that I owe it to them that they can depend on me, I can’t have you involved in this shit. If the poison had hit you, you’d be dead. Tell me you wouldn’t do the same if you were in my situation.” 

Face charged with the answer, the older hero scoffs as he briefly looks away, disgruntled.

Caught at a standstill, the two glare at each other.

After a while, their eyes slowly flit away from each other, in nervous uncertainty, unsure on how to proceed. 

The fight leaves the zeta-beamer as he sighs, gently placing his palm above the runner’ thigh, thumbing at it gently. 

“The poison was that bad huh?” He asks softly, expression tender with care. 

Bart grumbles with a slight pout. “Had me moded but, nothing unbearable I guess.”

“You guess? Have you seen yourself?” 

Easing at the other’s gentle touch, the time-traveller slowly lies himself back down. “What, you mean “looking like shit”?” He murmurs sarcastically. 

“I’ve never seen you like this before, like you’ve been crying for days.”

Bart’s eyes widen, as if reminded of something. “Oh. Yeah, right.” He says, disheartened, eyes dampening again against his will. Clenching at the fabric of the blanket, voice unsteady, he tries. “You know, uh, turns out Chicken Whizees are about to be discontinued. Pretty tragic, am I right?” 

“..:” The older meta is unmoved.

Still tender at the recency of the argument with his guardian, the younger turns to face the wall again with a heavy heart, though not before the taller boy had caught the hurt on his face.

“Is this about Jay?” 

He’s met with silence.

Sometimes, silence can only really be fought with silence. So Eduardo humours him. 

Moments pass and the speedster starts wiping at his face.

With a deciding sigh, the zeta-beamer moves to join his boyfriend under the covers, sliding himself behind him. He tries to get the other to face him. “Hey now, look at me.”

“No.” The runner vehemently objects, voice wet. “You’re just gonna take his side.” 

Despite being met with the back of Bart’s head, Ed raises his brow as he calmly asks. “What makes you say that?”

“I just know it.”

Lightheartedly, Ed says. “Oh? You know everything now?”

“Oh and you do? You suddenly know everything now?” 

“Well that’s funny Bart, considering your word doesn’t mean very much to me right now.”

“I can’t trust half of what comes out of that mouth of yours.” 

“Joan would’ve been so disappointed.”

The speedster’s chest constricts and he keens as he clutches at the bangs of his own hair, the balls of his palms rubbing without end at the tears that continue to spill. 

If Eduardo wasn’t worried before, he certainly is now. 

“Fuck I’m sorry, I didn’t mean- I don’t know what-”

The runner takes in a deep breath as he exhales with clenched teeth and eyes, trying his hardest to hold on tight to his last thread of reason, his intoxicated metabolism working overtime to prevent another melt-down from happening within the same hour. The fleeting tears continue to follow their path. 

Turning to rest again on his back, Bart finally responds, heaving, as he looks to the ceiling through his hands. “I don’t know anything, nothing.” He swallows, trying to catch his breath. Then, as earnest as a devotee preaching their bible of thought, he continues “I just know- I just know you both can’t love me for the same reason.” 

Eduardo’s heart falls out of his chest at the declaration. 

Having his thoughts and feelings assumed by anyone, even Bart, always rattles him one way or the other, prompting him to always argue for himself. But the devastation from the statement had knocked all intelligible thought out of him. 

On autopilot, he tries to separate the runner’s hands away from his face, jumbled thoughts preventing him from forming a coherent response as all he can do is look at the other, crestfallen. 

The silence works in his favour as the runner continues to spill, view of the ceiling now unobstructed, wet eyes unfocused at its vastness. “Four years… I’ve been here for four years. Joan and Jay, they’re my family. I love them, I trust them. But they don’t trust me. I let them down. So I don’t get their love. And you-you don’t trust me either, that’s why you won’t say you love me” 

Imra’s words ring true in his head. “We actually have a home, time and place to return to Bart, you wouldn’t understand.”

He supposes he fundamentally, truly doesn’t. That’s why he didn’t even bother contesting it.

He regularly checks on his mom in this timeline. She’s currently five. As a Thawne, of course she’s about to be enrolled in one of the most prestigious elementary schools in the state. It’ll be a while before she meets his dad. It’s entirely possible they won’t even meet, that his existence is only an aftermath of the apocalypse. The Meloni of this era isn’t the same as, and never will be, the one who’s defiant and impulsive spirit left him orphaned. The one who trusted him to persevere and survive.

The same way the twins he sees now every other day are definitely not the same ones he recalls from his childhood. The two who helped protect the gated community of the Resistance until their last breath, fighting together at every opportunity and beheaded together at their last. Laying their lives on the line without a second thought, trusting that the generations they had protected would ultimately sow and reap its own reward. 

His cousin Jenni who was always there for him, always called him out on his weaknesses, but trusted that he’d get over them. Trusted, that he’d always have her back regardless. 

His brother Owen who he never saw eye to eye with, always arguing, fighting, both however ultimately trusting each other to ensure the survival of one another. 

Maybe the volatility of a post-apocalyptic world played a role in the neurotic superstitions of the average person, but people didn’t really invest in making their love known. A sentiment made fleeting by the impending fate of death, people always rushed to confess, but paranoid to repeat should it be their last. Love was really only made known through actions. And the loudest action of them all, from where he’s from, is survival.

It was a love language in its own right. One that Don, Meloni, Dawn, Jenni and Owen had each fluently spoken, now gone extinct, with the future being re-written. 

No matter how much he might see this place and its people as his home, there will always be the slightest sliver of longing for the people he knew since birth, those, who shared the same understanding, practices and values as he did. Because that’s kinda part of what makes up the concept of home, and no matter how awful it was, how he’s glad it’s a time and place that’s impossible to return to, it was still, at the very core of it, his first home.

“It’s so embarrassing. I felt like I belonged barely a year in, but maybe I was being delusional, it wasn’t like I had anywhere else to go. After all, a year isn’t long enough for them.”

The best way to kill a weed is to dig it up from its roots.

The zeta-beamer palms at the side of the runner’s face, turning it gently to face him. 

“Bart, I need you to slow down. I won’t let you upset yourself over made-up scenarios in your head. Why are you saying all this, what happened?” 

“Ugh, I’m so tired Ed, I just want to sleep.” He slurs. 

“I can’t let you, not like this, it’ll be really quick. Tell me.” 

Drooping eyes lazily look to the side, face scrunched with insecurity. Despite this, the younger finally relents with a murmur. “Jay figured out I’ve been hiding stuff from him. Not happy. Broke his trust. He’s joining the League. Mission at the end of the month. He’s gonna get hurt. I don’t know. I just know he’s gonna get hurt. He’ll be turning 102 there. I don’t want him to go. I want him to stay here, safe. But- he won’t listen to me. Said I don’t have the right to care for him, as if he’s not my-”

Bart gasps, lips trembling, Eduardo wipes at the tears.

The zeta-beamer connects the thread and tests his understanding. “Let me guess, Jay got worried over you “helping out your friends”, you got worried over his mission and then you both argued.” 

Bart nods slightly.

Well, Ed decides, there is no such thing as a perfect moment. There’s just the feeling, and he owes it to the other to tell him, to make it known. Before it’s too late.

He gathers his courage. “Okay sure, Bart, you were right. I do side with him, but did you even consider for a second that it’s never been about trust, it’s because I love you. And I’m worried for you, just like he’s worried for you, because you’re his family, because he loves you too. The same way you’re worried for him, because you love him. Do you get it?” 

Struck by the confession, wide tearful eyes stare at the older boy, agape. “You-huh?”

Ed wraps his arm around the speedster, pulling him closer against him, their faces inches apart. “I love you. I wanted to tell you back when you first confessed but, I guess your boyfriend was a real pelotudo, you should dump him for me.” He teases, before he continues, heartfelt. “I’m sor-”

His apology is cut short as Bart all but throws himself at him, kissing him with a renewed sense of desperation, carding his hand from Eduardo’s nape to his hair, pushing the older boy deeper into his lips. Taken by him, he turns Bart on to his back, tongue slowing the kiss as he tentatively swipes at the other’s lips for access. The runner opens up with a quiet, pleased sound, his other arm clutching onto the back of Ed’s shoulder. Eduardo tilts his head to better lick into his mouth, one arm holding his own weight and the other slipping its way through the back of Bart’s shirt. Chasing each other within the kiss, they finally break apart with a groan, the gentle warmth of their breathing intertwining as they pant. 

Eduardo can’t help himself as he continues to nose along Bart’s jaw to his cheek, softly pecking his way through as his fingers glide along the curve of the speedster’s spine. Still holding on to the other, the runner slowly slides his leg up, targeted towards the older boy, who grunts at the contact. 

“Ah, fuck.” He pants, rutting back down, licking a stripe along Bart’s throat. 

Though his face is still puffy, the younger hero beams as he exposes more of his neck, enjoying himself. Winded, he says lightly. “What about— hah- what about the door?” 

The door.

Eduardo groans in complaint as he rolls himself away from Bart, facing the white of the ceiling, trying to calm himself down. 

“Ah… La reconcha de la lora…” He curses, frustrated. It’s been over a couple of weeks, sue him. 

The two lie there, staring at the ceiling, out of breath, clothes and hair rumpled. 

“Osea, literal.” Bart adds from the side. 

A snort bursts from the taller boy as he turns to face his boyfriend with a questioning wide grin. “Not you too. Where the hell did you get that from?”  

“Got added to an El Dorado stan group chat on my side account. Did you know, that everyone ships you with Leslie.” 

“A gay and a lesbian, classic.” 

“I know right?” 

With a small sniff, the younger rubs at one of his eyes. 

“Stop, rub anymore and you’ll look like a panda.” 

Bart smiles, amused. “Well you almost fucked that panda, what does that say about you.” 

Ed immediately covers the younger hero’s face with his hand and gently ruffles it about. “Shut up, boludo. Why are you such an idiot.”

At which Bart laughs, before he grabs at the hand and holds it dearly to him.

“We’re not doing anything… right?” Ed whispers. 

“Nah, I think I’m too tired, sorry.” Bart smiles sheepishly.

“Yeah, I thought so.” He replies, looking away abashedly before he rushes to add. “-And you don’t have to apologise, obviously.” 

“Okay, but I’m sorry about yesterday. Was kinda moded of me to leave you hanging like that.”

“The fact that you didn’t say anything, yeah I was kinda pissed.”

Bart gives him a look.

The older hero rolls his eyes. “Okay fine, I was very pissed. But it wasn’t all too bad, Virgil and I were back to being the Dynamic Duo for the night, it was alright.” 

The younger raises his brow, amused. “ “Dynamic Duo” huh, who’s Batman then?” 

“Uh, me obviously, without question.” Ed says, fixing a playful gaze to the other. “I mean, tall, dark and handsome, that’s literally me.” 

Bart grins. “Arn’t you both like the same height?” 

The Argentinian pouts. “I’m like an inch taller, you know that”

“Right, my bad.” The runner chuckles before he continues, musing. “Hmm, dark though? I don’t know. Didn’t you cry- oh wait, “sweat through your eyes” when we were watching Up?” 

“So? Batman is a man of compassion.”  

Bart snorts at this. “You’re such a dork Ed.” 

“Tch, it takes one to no one.” He pretends to be irritated, before he adds. “Besides, I heard some of the kids at the centre say they think I’m “cool and mysterious”. Doesn’t get more Batman than that.” 

“Huh, I guess I’m dating Batman now. Don’t know how I’m gonna break the news to Tim.” 

Splaying his free hand across the expanse of the runner’s back, Ed gently pulls him in closer. “For now, it can be our secret.” 

“Hm, it’s a shame I can’t be dating my favourite hero El Dorado. The group chat would love me forever, or hate me, depending on which account reacts to the news first.”  

Finally breaking the act, Eduardo presses a kiss against the crown of the speedster’s head. “I can’t stand you.” He jokes. 

“Nah, you love me sunshine.” Bart counters with a shy grin, eyes betraying his delight.

Chapter Text

7:59 A.M

Click.

Barry gently switches the alarm off before it can ring. Iris likes her sleep.

Whether beating his clock to the race is a Flash or Barry Allen thing, is unknown to him. They’re one and the same at this point. He’s never had any issues with his identity as a hero, unlike Bruce or Clark, he’s proudly both at the same time, balancing them with ease and a smile. 

The Flash. Penned by his childhood idol Jay Garrick, the All-Star American Hero. Someone, who can be there for everybody, every family, any person in need. A helping hand, in every possible scenario, at each and every call. That’s the gift of the miracle that is super-speed. And he’s grateful for it. To have the opportunity to do good and continue the incredible legacy of The First Generation Flash, it’s a blessing and Barry more than makes sure to give back in return, be it in heroics, or day-to-day activities. There’s a reason why despite being the oldest founding member of the League, he’s considered the most approachable by the younger generations of heroes. He relates personally to their pure, albeit naive, love for the job. He really does.

Sure, he knows what people think. That he’s got no life outside of work, both as a CSI or as a hero. He’d be inclined to agree if they considered being a family-man a full-time job too. Because then it’s true, he is married to his job.

That’s another shared valued between the Flash and Barry Allen. Family. He knows this is a Flash thing because Jay feels just as strongly about it as him. Throughout the 20 years of having known the Garricks, he got to learn about their previous personal struggles with conceiving, adoption, loss. But those obstacles never managed to stand in the way of their value of family and if anything made it stronger, being known among the hero community for their initiatives of supporting youth and safe-havens. Found family is just as strong as any and Barry proudly considers the Garricks as his. There’s a reason why Flash family has a nice ring to it. 

It’s also why Wally managed to convince his way into joining Barry as his side-kick, growing up to be his partner of sorts. As opposed as he was to it in the beginning, he couldn’t help but relish in the parallels between his journey and Wally’s. At the root of it, they both started out the same way. Just a couple of simple boys from the local suburbs, growing up with a love for comics, heroics and science, nurtured by the privilege of a good education and lovingly warm family. As a result, they wanted to do good for the world, the same way it has done good by them. 

They had their differences, sure. He may have been Kid Flash, but Wally always had that special edge that Barry just didn’t have. Immature in many ways, but mature in others, usually on time as opposed to Barry’s helpless tardiness. Yet despite it all, they were cut from the same cloth; driven by their desire to help, and elevated by their identities as heroes, all made possible by their awe for the Flash mantle and understanding of the scientific phenomena behind it. Despite being related through Iris, Wally became so much more to him in giving Barry the opportunity to become for the younger what Jay was to him. There was a special type of familiarity with Wally, one, that he so terribly misses. 

Getting ready for his day-job in a flash, Barry speeds to the twins’ bedroom before he leaves. Of course, the two are star-fished across their separate beds, both having kicked their blankets away into a mess.

“Not even the beds are safe from the little tornados.” He whispers to himself fondly. 

After fixing up Dawn, he goes on to tuck Don back in properly. Neatly re-arranging the tufts of blond hair, Barry lightly pinches his son’s cheek. 

The hero softly sits himself beside the sleeping kid. His parents keep calling Don his carbon copy and whilst he might not have been a sugar-fuelled power-house as a kid, from certain traits and appearances alone, he’s inclined to agree. And one day, his kid is going to grow up and have a son of his own too. He can’t lie and say he hasn’t from time to time wondered as to what type of person the lucky girl his son will spend the rest of his life with will be.

Barry sighs. 

Kid Flash, originally the mantle of a side-kick, ended up baring so much more weight than that of the Flash being passed down to him. Wally had created a special legacy. Unlike Barry taking on the Flash mantle, Kid Flash was something that his nephew himself had created, so of course, what it meant to be Kid Flash was entangled within Wally’s own personal identity. 

Regardless, Bart had managed to take on the role of Kid Flash so seamlessly that the general public hadn’t caught on to the blatant differences in speed, height, hair and voice until much later. Even among those in the know, there were an uncomfortable number of times that people had made the mix-up. 

It’s no secret that Bart shares a lot of traits with Wally and if anything, it’s probably among the reasons as to why he filled in the role so easily. 

Which makes it all the more stranger, Barry thinks to himself. Why is it, that he struggles so much to find that thread of familiarity with Bart, that was so naturally woven between him and Wally. Everything is lined up as a precedent for it to be there. He’s a good kid. The Garricks had taken to him so easily. Iris talks to Bart like they’ve known each other their whole life. So why the disconnect? 

It’s not the first time the blond has wondered about this. He’s noted it since the kid first joined them in the present. At the time, Barry rooted it down to temporal-cultural differences. Something that would surely naturally ease with the passage of time. 

Then, the bomb-shell truth of Bart’s past-future came to light and whatever obstacle of suspicion Wally had for the kid initially, had largely dissipated and the two became fast friends. Yet for Barry, the unfamiliarity was all the more amplified, along with the horrifying realisation that there was a timeline where he couldn’t be there for a world that so desperately needed him, and even worse, for his family. 

However, all these uncomfortable thoughts were easily brushed away by how busy he was, is, as well as how easy-going Bart is with everyone. If no one else has any problems with his grandson, then why should he?

Well, now that Jay is having his issues with Bart, Barry realises that everything he’s swept aside is slowly catching up with him again. Iris was right- as she usually is. He needs to own up and take responsibility as a… well, a grandfather. 

Never mind, Barry shudders at the thought, one step at a time. Taking responsibility as a family member and mentor should do for now. 

The hero softly looks down to his kid, dreaming away. 

Hours later, over in Taos, Bart is found munching away through some Mr Terrific cereal. The stuff’s so good. He wonders what the Michael Holt of his timeline would think if he knew that Bart got to try some. Even eat it daily. He’ll never know, Bart supposes. 

The Dorados had long left for their respective duties, Ed texting him earlier whilst he was still fast asleep that he signed Bart off Outsider’s duty for today and will cover his shift. That he can stay over for as long as he likes. 

Man, Bart doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve the guy. He won’t lie and say that the odd moments of quiet where he thinks Eduardo is too good for him don’t exist. 

He grabs the packet of cereal, going for his fifth refill. He should really be heading home instead to eat his morning worth of energy bars but… 

The Terrific “T” logo from the box stares at him. In his original timeline, Michael had insisted that Bart should consider his scrap-yard time machine as a prototype, not for actual use. “Conjecture without data is just guessing. What sick man would seek medicine that’s never been tested before?” A deep voice mused.

“A desperate one.” Bart retorted, before snarkily adding. “I don’t see your time machine lying around?” 

The two were watching Bart’s blueprints being burned to ashes. They were finalised, so the runner didn’t need them any more.   

“I told you. What’s done is done. My loyalty and vision lies with the Rebellion and the future of this timeline. But I’ve always had a lot of respect for Meloni’s ideas and it doesn’t hurt to help her kid carry on her legacy with a backyard school project. ”  

“Not this again, what the hell even is a backyard Michael?” 

All the runner got in response was a snort. Now that Bart is older, knows what a backyard is and can enjoy things like daily showers, cereal and oversleeping, he can see the humor in a 12 year old saying that.

He can also now understand where the man was coming from. He jumped into things too fast. He was too impatient. 

Too impulsive.

Owen would always complain that Bart got the bad traits of both his parents. His mom’s recklessness and his dad’s cockiness. He never thought of them as bad though, after all, it got him this far. But he’s only human, and through rough patches like those as of late, he can’t help but wonder whether he’s truly done his mother’s legacy any justice. 

Had he waited, done additional tests, developed the prototype into something capable of two way trips, three way trips, multiple trips then-

He wouldn’t have been stuck with fried junk, he could’ve done something about Wally and the Legion wouldn’t be trapped here. 

“It makes the weight of our actions so much heavier and it’s something that we need to live by.”

Imra understood it in a way that he doesn’t think is quite the same as he does. Sure, he rushed his trip to the present, and? He ultimately won the race and that’s all that matters. But it’s not a win without its regrets.

That’s just the nature of responsibility, he supposes,

The milk in his bowl is cold. It’s nice, he notes.

An alert rings. His hero-pager signals an incoming call from Barry. He dashes to grab his ear-piece. 

“What’s up gramps.”  

“KF, head to Blüdhaven ASAP. Bomb-network. Forwarded the Bats coordinates. I’ll join you as soon as I finish here in Central with the Rogues.” 

“Kay. Catch yah later Flash.” 

Bart wolves down what remains of the cereal. He’ll replace the box for the Dorados later. 

Speeding to the location his grandpa sent him, he grins as he catches sight of Tim crouched at the corner of the rooftop. The runner tries to sneak up from behind.

“Boo!”

Unfazed, the older hero continues to inspect the disarmed bomb in his hands. “Sorry Bart, no time to mess around.” 

The brunette just waits with crossed arms and a smirk. 

“… That was failed attempt 16 by the way.” Tim can’t help but say.

And there it is. 

“So what’s the situation? Found a couple bombs on the way here, but they still have about an hour left. Want to go grab some ice cream with me?”

The boy-wonder responds with a huff. “Wasn’t Flash supposed to come?”

“Caught up in Central. What, I’m not blonde enough for you?” 

Tim has this special skill where he can glare without moving a single face muscle.

“… I hate you.” Is all he says before he stands to face the speedster. Bart snatches the defused bomb out of the other’s hands and fumbles with it as he inspects it casually. “Look, we got a report on Two-Face’s plot to bomb the area as his bid to win the turf war against Penguin. We planned this mission thinking it would match his MO but the network is too intricate. Riddler’s work. He’s probably joined forces with Two-Face. There’s not enough time for both me and Batman to take them down, figure out all the riddles and hack the mainframe to disarm them all at once at the same time.”

“Say no more-“ Bart salutes as he hands back the bomb, turning to run. A gloved hand yanks him back in place.

A tinge of frustration leaks from Tim’s tone. “Wait. How exactly are you planning on disarming them?”  

The speedster waves off his concern. “Psh. I’ve seen this on CSI a hundred times Rob. Just cut the red wire, duh.”

Tim pointedly looks down to the wire-less bomb.

“Bart… there are no red wires .” He almost whispers, incredulous. 

The younger doesn’t seem to catch the internal crises the boy-wonder is having as he says with a lopsided smile. “Oh. That’s okay, it’s obviously the green ones then.” 

“There are no- you know what. Just take this, it’s a universal defuser. I added the bomb’s specifications so it should be fine.”

“Hah! Thats so Outsider of you, always got me covered and all that.” Robin stifles a snort and just punches Bart by the side of his shoulder. 

Tim doesn’t even try to conceal his smirk as he says. “Whatever that means, Doradosnsh1ne.” 

Rubbing at his shoulder, Bart is scandalised. “How did you- wait, that was you? I knew that link was too good to be true!”

Tim folds his arms with a smug face. “Had to test my new trojan somehow and I swear you’re the only one on this entire God forsaken planet who looks up “Klamulons playing with puppies compilation” .” 

“Tch. Listen, we are a niche fandom, only the greatest minds of this generation would understand.” Bart clicks his tongue as he responds, mock-shooing the older boy away. 

Playfully slapping the shooing hand away, Tim continues, his masked face clearly entertained. “Well, you’re lucky your search history would drive any hacker crazy. Going through 500 pages on the Sonic Frontiers walkthroughs in the span of 20 minutes should be a pre-requisite to Arkham.” 

“And others would say hacking friends is a felony, yet here we are.”

“Doesn’t hurt to keep an eye on each other.”

The humour on the meta’s face dials back as a softer look settles in place. Resting a reassuring hand on Tim’s shoulder, he replies. “True and right back at’cha. You don’t have to worry man, Gar’s been doing good progress and his schedule with Dinah is gonna whip him back into shape before we even know it.” 

Expression usually set to be strategically neutral, Tim relaxes slightly in Bart’s presence. With a look of concern, he confesses. “I know, but it’s our responsibility to-”

A radio call interrupts. 

“Shit.” The older boy mutters, rushing to prepare his gear. “Thats my cue, gotta run.”

“You don’t need to tell me twice.” The runner says with a grin. Despite the white of the mask, Bart recognises the eye roll. “We’ll continue later boy-wonder, I’ll keep you posted.” He waves before the two separate.

Despite being fully recovered from the disaster wreck he was just the night before, he decides to take it easy by racing the block at only 100 times the speed of sound to track down each and every bomb, mentally sketching out a rough idea of the network’s layout. Pressing his in-ear, he radios Tim. “Zipped through the area, counted 78 bombs, does that sound right?” 

The bat-member replies with slight-static in his frequency as the grunts of a fight can be heard in the background. “Yeah, matches what I got. Think you can clear them all?” 

“Of course. Regroup with you when I’m done?” 

“Yeah actually-” The fracture of a leg can be heard. That bat-staff is no joke. “That would be great. Let me know if there’s any interference.” 

“Copy that bird-boy. TTYL.” 

The runner finally takes the time to inspect the device Tim had handed him. A smooth black cylinder with a switch on the side and two small circular pads at the flat end of the tube. Clean design, straightforward use, the bat squad always has the most advanced tech among the human-members of the teams. 

Getting a start on the network’s deactivation, Bart heads to the closest bomb before attaching the tube onto its surface. With a flick of the switch, some time passes as the tool whirrs in the background. 

The trademark T of Holt’s company, engraved into the device, lights up as the defuser runs. 

Whilst Waynetech had never publicly absorbed Kord Industries, everyone in the know attributes a lot of its key features to Ted’s genius. Bruce and Ted had a good working relationship, both in the League and as civilians. As a result, the second generation Blue Beetle was always more than happy to have his company collaborate with Waynetech. When Ted was killed, in order to protect the integrity of the company, Waynetech had privately bought it out to prevent it from being overtaken by the likes of Luthor. It was, however, left untouched in every way possible, leaving it in the hands of those capable of continuing his legacy. Kord industries is still publicly running independently and it’s important to Bruce that it be left that way. 

To Barbara too, she confessed as she eventually explained all this to Bart whenever he visited to help on the Team’s secret last-resort emergency plan to incapacitate Blue. She had considered Ted a mentor of sorts. 

It’s funny though. In every discussion Bart has had with any of the Bat-members throughout the years, Michael Holt rarely gets brought up. Currently in his late 20s, Michael is a self-made multi-millionaire, as a result of having had his company “Cyberwear” sold to Waynetech. Bart has a sneaking suspicion that the guy is on his way to making a new company public, but in the meantime, Holt has been playing hero as “Mr Terrific”. 

He’s also secretly responsible for the T-index quarterly “Smartest Man in the World” ranking. With Lex Luthor and Bruce Wayne usually battling it out for top two, Michael purposefully lists himself as third to maintain a relatively low profile. After all, who would care for bronze when silver and gold are always brawling it out in the spotlight. 

A ping rings, indicating the bomb disarmament. 

Huh.

As a speedster, Bart’s perception of time might be biased, but that felt like it took an awfully long time. 

The hero dashes to the next nearest bomb, disarming it as he counts in the background. 

50 seconds. Oh oh.

At this rate, it would be impossible to disarm all the bombs in time, they’re all on the same timer. 

76 bombs still remain and there are less than 50 minutes. 

Cool. Cool cool cool cool cool cool cool cool cool- 

The T insignia catches his eye, mocking him. 

Even unintentionally, Holt is always out there, testing him somehow. On a good day, Bart is usually up for a challenge, sure, they’re fun. One visit to the back of his bedroom closet and he can upgrade this sorry excuse of scrap that calls itself a disarmer, no problema. 

Except, he doesn’t feel particularly welcome in his own home right now. 

The risk of being caught by Jay doesn’t make him feel too good either. How’s he going to explain the heaping piles of tools, processors, rare-earth metals and devices that he’s slowly accumulated since helping the Legion. He’s going to have to let Jay down again?

The blaring red light of the bomb countdown tells him, there are bigger things at stake right now than his own drama. The runner rolls his eyes at himself. Whatever, if he’s caught, that’s a problem for future Bart to deal with. 

Back in Central City, Barry is just finishing up with the Rogues. Even though they’re all tied up, he likes to wait until the cops have them in their confines. Annoyingly, the Rogues are always at the highest risk of escape and he can’t deny that it makes him proud to see his fellow colleagues in blue take them in. Barry also has the time today, he trusts that Bart has Blüdhaven under control. Of course, as family, Barry always worries on the low, but his grandson has made it more than clear to him by now that he doesn’t always need Barry to fret over him. 

Hartley lets out a pitched yell of frustration as he tries to fight his way out of the constraints. “Flash you asshole! Let me out right this instant!” 

“Oi, quit wobbling Piper! You’re killing my wrists!” Axel complains.

Mick tilts his head back in an attempt to talk to Leonard, who’s tied up behind him. “Cold, tell the kids to shut up. I don’t want to go to jail with a fucking headache.”  

Lisa interrupts before her brother can answer. “Piper, sweetheart, quit your yapping will yah. It’s ruining my vibe.” 

Hartley only responds with an infuriated scream. 

Barry tries to neutralise the situation. “Okay, calm down Piper. What’s going on, you’ve never been this-“

“Insane?” Mark interrupts with humor. “Don’t worry Flash, it’s probably over some nerd shit.” 

Barry looks confused through his cowl. 

Hartley seethes. “Does your pea brain realise how incredibly difficult it is to catch a Harrison Wells talk? Do you even know who he is, or has the radiation from your little weather stick finally molten your pathetic excuse of neural pathways?!” 

Mark explodes as he also tries to fight the constraints. “I dare you to say that to my face Piper! Flash, untie me so I can beat his puny face to the ground!”

Barry and Leonard talk over each other as they both try to calm the two down. As the arguing eventually reaches a lull, the hero can’t help himself as he asks. “Okay, so what’s this about a Harrison Wells talk? I thought he finished his rounds last month and went back to the other end of the coast.”

Hartley drags his eyes as he looks to the speedster, reluctantly answering, still seething through his teeth. “Yeah that’s what I thought too. But apparently the guy behind his payroll is some big-shot who pulled some strings, the usual.” 

Barry is stunned at the news. “But surely it’s just a repeat of all his other talks?”

Piper doesn’t hide how unimpressed he is. “You think his main source of income is asking for an encore ? You must be out of your mind. I just read the papers today, it’s going to be a major event all the way up in Detroit. Something about his research on the computational power behind negative entropy. I had my tickets booked! And you ruined my plans!” 

“Sorry Piper, maybe if you guys didn’t plan this heist, thing’s would’ve worked out differently. Don’t worry though, I’ll drop off some notes for you in prison.” Barry says sincerely. 

“Aw, would you look at that, you two could be best friends.” Axel coos. 

Hartley fake gags. “Don’t make me sick Trickster, I could never befriend a cop sympathiser.” 

Barry crosses his arms, peeved. “Alright Green Arrow, calm down now, the men in blue are about to be here any second.” 

“Whatever.” Is all the musician responds with before he adds. “Are you going to take that sidekick of yours with you?” 

That catches the runner off guard. “Kid Flash?” 

Hartley nods.

“Uh, nah. He doesn’t really enjoy that type of stuff.” 

Piper raises his brow at that. “Are you serious? Could’ve fooled me.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I thought the pre-requisite for Kid Flash was being a pain in the behind know-it-all. He’s as annoying as the other guy.” 

“By that logic, you too could be Kid Flash Piper.” Sam adds. 

“As soon as we are free, I swear, I will make you all meet your maker.” 

Barry recognises a familiar van. He’s never been happier to see the CCPD pulling up. 

Back in Blüdhaven, Bart is disarming the final bomb. 

As the defuser beeps to alert its completion, the runner is about to radio his teammate before he remembers something. 

The device’s upgrade includes state of the art components. Whilst they weren’t particularly necessary for fixing up the broken time-sphere parts the Legion all but dumped him with, if he’s learnt anything from his scavenging days, it’s that it never hurts to stock up on things you might need later down the line. So what if he grabbed more from Alva Tech than necessary, according to Virgil, the guy who runs the company is a total d-bag anyway.

But that’s all his own business, doesn’t mean he wants to incriminate Tim with stolen parts. So, overloading the device it is. 

In the meantime, Tim is sat at the edge of a bridge over the highway. Having jumped out of the Batmobile during a high-speed car chase after Two-face, he’s been tasked with ambushing Riddler’s escape. The villain is supposed to be on his way on the road below any moment now. 

A change in frequency distracts him. “Hey, Boy-wonder. Bombs are officially feeling the mode so, where you at?”

He responds with a press to his ear-piece. “Just over Melville Section, by the bridge off the 61. Want me to send you coordinates?” 

A gentle kick to his side secretly startles him. But that’s just for him to know. 

“Nah, I think I found you.” The runner says, looking down with a grin. 

The older boy snorts. “Everything run smoothly?” 

Bart huffs a laugh before he crouches down beside the other. “This is why I always vote you as funniest Robin in Court’s polls.” 

The Robin responds with an elbow to his side. 

“Ow. Fine then, all my votes will go to Dick. Be that way.” 

“I thought you were boycotting all Stargirl content until she choses nicer photos of you.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. It’s her clickbait, they keep distracting me. How does she do it?” 

The black haired boy shrugs in response as he refocuses on the road below them. “So, all bombs moded?”

“You know it.” The runner confirms with a smile before he winces. “Ah- uhm. Don’t be mad, but-” He hands over the broken defuser to the older boy. “It’s completely fried.” 

“…” Tim just stares at the lump of metal in his gloved hands. “Literally, how ?” 

The runner responds with a generic I don’t know type of mumble and a shrug of his shoulders. “Probs defective in the first place. Might want to look into improving its disarming time, felt like it took a decade with each bomb.”  

“Noted.” Is all Tim says after a couple of seconds. "And it’s got nothing to do with you heading back to your place?” 

Bart leans back with a tired sigh, palms to the floor, legs dangling off the bridge. “What’s going on man, first my phone, now this?” 

“It’s nothing. Just a habit. Bruce always checks on my status mid-mission, thought I’d do it too for the Team.”

“Well, congrats. You caught me during snack-time detective.”

“Look, it doesn’t hurt for us to check up on-” 

“Dude, again, is this about Gar?”

Tim looks conflicted. “… I just heard about the shift changes. E.D signed you off today.”

Bart looks to the corner of his eyes like he’s missing the point. “…And?”

“You’ve been on the Team for four years, not once have you ever asked for a shift change.” 

Through his visor, Bart’s eyes continue to play clueless, as though he still doesn’t know what Tim is getting at.

Tim fixes his gaze to the road below them. He lets out a weighted breath through his nose.

“Listen, I know what loss does to a person. To someone, who’s reached their limit. I’ve seen it happen to Bruce, to Dick. And that’s the crazy part, it can happen to anyone, even the strongest people out there. ” 

The revving of cars passing below them complements the brief silence.

Tim continues, his breathing getting slightly heavier. “You know, I’ve known Gar for five years, we joined the Team at about the same time. It was drilled into us, that we’re supposed to watch each others’ backs. Our lives are put on the line all the time, but at least we’ve got our teammates to rely on.”

Tim finally braves himself to look at the other. “Yet, we didn’t realise what was happening before it even happened. What kind of hero does that make us?” 

Bart briefly looks out into the horizon in front of them, swinging his legs back and forth, almost care-free. 

He continues to observe the bright colours of the view. They’re gorgeous. “You know, where I’m from, people just killed themselves. Gar has it very lucky.” 

Tim almost loses his balance as he swears. “God- Jesus Bart, what’s wrong with you?!”

The younger doesn’t see the problem. “What? I was just saying how lucky we are that Gar has the right support!” 

Tim looks back down to the road intently, though his disturbed expression doesn’t really leave. 

“Look, Tim, I get why you’re worried. But staying with M’gann has helped him loads. He’s been doing serious progress especially with his whole celebrity-hero grade support system. He has friends and family looking out for him. I think it’s safe to say, he’ll be fine.” 

The older vigilante clenches his jaw, slightly scowling. “So you’re telling me it’s not worth going crazy over stuff that’s out of my control?” 

Bart shrugs one shoulder. “I mean, sure.” 

“I’ve been successful as a Robin because I do what I gotta do, so sorry if I refuse to let things that are out of my control, stay that way.” 

Bart adds extra momentum to the swing of his legs. “You don’t say.” The tone in his voice remains unclear to Tim.

“I’m serious Bart. What happened, shouldn’t happen again. To any of us. And I want to make sure of that.” Despite his voice remaining steady, those close to him recognise the slight harshness in it. Or is it desperation.

Bart playfully slaps him in the back. “Well Mr. Anti-Light, I’m sure you know what you’re doing.” 

The older boy pulls a face at that. “I’ve apologi-”

“Relax, it’s all jokes. I vouched for you to join us, remember? Besides, I get what you’re saying.”

“You do?”

“Sometimes, there’s just not much choice with things. People always say, oh the world moves on, like okay. And? Accepting that there’s no choice, is a choice in itself, you know?” 

“Right…” The older boy agrees, though he sounds unsure of himself, slightly confused. Doesn’t stop him from asking what he originally set out to find.  “So, are you going to tell me what’s up with you?”

Bart responds lightly. “Sure. I mean, it’s nothing major but if it’ll make you happy.”

The runner pretends that he didn’t notice the older vigilante perking up at his response.

Bart is never one to miss out on an opportunity. “You know… All this talk about having each other’s backs. I think I’m also ready to cash in on that favor of yours. It’s related. I promise.” 

Tim snorts. “Well, it’s about time, I was beginning to think you were gonna save it for something crazy…” His eyes widen as he pales. “It’s not driving lessons again is it? Last time was traumatic and that’s not even an exaggeration.“

“Jeez, Timatron 5000, calm down. It’s not driving but since you’re clearly volunteering-“ 

Tim throws him a stare. “Bart.”

“Right, right moving on.” He laughs. “You know how it is, it’s summer, you get restless. Let’s just say, I’ve been on a couple late night runs too many and Jay is not happy about it.” 

Tim urges him to elaborate with a raise of a brow.

“We argued-“

“No way, for real?” 

Bart confirms with a guilty nod. “I’ve just been needing some space recently, you get me?” 

Tim responds with a sarcastic snort. “You kidding? Try living with us. It’s the paranoia hunger games.” 

“So you won’t have any problem covering for me?” 

“I’m an Outsider, it’s what I do.”  

Bart cackles at that as he shoves at the other teasingly.

Before they figure out the finer details of their deal, the roar of an approaching engine from below catches their attention.

With a synchronised nod the heroes jump into action, landing straight into the speeding vehicle.

As well as straight into a trap.

“Gentlemen!” Riddler relishes as he watches the two struggle in their confines, electric rope binding their arms to their sides. “Welcome to Quiz Time: Bonus round! Extra riddles for the extra bombs I’ve scattered throughout the city. No need to fret though, by the time I dump you two into the river they’ll have long detonated. You know, it truly is your honour for your final moments to be in my presence, stimulating thought-” 

Tuning out the conceited rambles Riddler always likes to start his show with, Tim, trapped by the backseats, hectically worms his hands about in an attempt to reach his utility belt. Eyeing the surroundings the car is racing through to devise the right escape trajectory to possibly reach the bombs in time, he catches Bart’s reflection in the rear view mirror. 

He sucks in his lips, trapping a snort from escaping. 

Back by the front seats, where Bart is trapped besides Riddler steering the vehicle, he all but squints at the villain, as if the Riddler were the riddle itself. Robin isn’t the only one to notice the confusion plastered across the runner’s face.

“Kid Flash, whilst I largely enjoy the stupefaction that bleeds from people, why the confusion? The quiz hasn’t started yet.” 

Bart all but ignores him as he looks to Tim through the rearview mirror, whisper yelling. “Bro, Spoiler’s dad is a total loser what the hell. So not worth the daddy issues.” 

Riddler sputters, face covered with offence. “Wh- what are you on about?”

With his newly freed hand, Tim stifles a fleeting laugh. Riddler is too occupied to notice. 

“I just- Aren’t you supposed to be blonde too? Omg, maybe you’re not even her real dad!” Riddler isn’t stupid enough to let his eyes off the road, but the urge to strangle the kid beside him is compelling. Bart meanwhile dramatically wobbles in his seat to look to the back. “Robin, thoughts?”

Tim doesn’t get the chance to reply.

“That’s Clue Master, you absolute moron !!!” He screeches. “I am Riddler! Master-strategist and an eligible bachelor in my prime! Not a deadbeat father!” 

Bart sighs in relief as he slumps back against his seat. “That’s great to hear, cause she never mentioned her dad being gay and I had zero idea on how I was gonna break it to her.” 

“You- mind your own business brat! Screw this, you’re not even worth my genius.” The villain grabs a remote from his jacket, pressing a button. 

The lack of explosion torn hysteria that usually echoes in the background at Riddler’s schemes was not something the villain was expecting. Dread starts to sink in. Shit, Two-face is going to make me into a bullet ridden Swiss-cheese. 

“Theres no riddle a little speed can’t handle, found the extra bombs on the way here” Bart gloats with a wonky smirk. “BTW, riddle me this Clue-Master, when’s a pro not a pro?”

“When he’s a con!” Tim responds, smug, prompting the runner for a high five.

Riddler all but screeches as he lunges at the speedster. Bart has that effect on people, Tim talks from experience.

The younger hero taps into his speed as he traps Riddler with the rope that the two were previously stuck in. He’s about to finish tying everything together when the start of a panicked yell bursts his speeding bubble of focus. This results in him accidentally knocking the villain out as he turned to Tim to ask what’s wrong. A speeding elbow does that to people. 

“Oh shit.” He winces, briefly checking the unconscious man for a pulse. Relief floods in as he feels the heartbeat before a hand starts pushing at his face. “Watch it! You almost had me knock this guy’s head off for good!” He shoves Tims’s hand away, pissed.

Just like by the bombs, being a speedster warps Bart’s perception of time. Being fast at everything means he might be slow on the uptake of what other’s consider normal. 

Like being stuck in a now driverless car going 150 miles per hour. 

Tim continues to try to push his way to the front as he shrills. “The wheel! Brakes!” He briefly manages to steer the car away from crashing into an other on the highway. 

“Oh right, right.” Realisation finally starts to set in for the younger hero, speeding to swap seats with the unconscious villain. Drumming his fingers as he takes hold of the wheel, he looks down to the pedals. “Uh, which one was it again?” Having a photographic memory doesn’t mean he can recall every moment of his life flawlessly. Not every video recording has the highest resolution and well-

Driving is just so mind-numbingly slow to him that he never pays full attention to what he’s being told. It’s not like any other mundane activity; with driving there’s the pretence of being able to speed which would normally excite him. But being stuck in a container going at what he considers a relative speed of a merry-go round for toddlers, isn’t as exciting as it sounds. There’s either no speed, or full speed. Not this watered down alternative of feeding a tiger with cookies.  

Sure, car-repairs is as rudimentary as mechanics can get for him, but he’s only ever scavenged parts from manual vehicles, and those have three pedals, unlike this automatic. 

Eh, it’s fifty-fifty. What can go wrong?

He steps on one of the pedals. Half a second passes and he spies the road they’re driving on. He can’t tell if they’re slowing down or not. 

Tim wails, gripping on to the leather of the seats for his dear life. “Mother of goat, Kid! That’s the fucking gas!!” 

Ah, it does now say 200 miles per hour. 

The older boy sounds like he’s reached his limit, breathing panicked. “Let go! Brake! Hit the fucking brakes!” 

Bart hits the brakes. The wheels lock. 

Later that day, in the safety of his room and within the solitude of the night, Tim can confess to himself that he should’ve known better. Bart isn’t exactly an experienced driver, what would he know about slowing down a car. It’s just, he was too caught up in the moment. You know, feeling like he was about to die at any second.

“Uh, Robin. The steering wheel isn’t working.”

The honking of passing cars accompanies Tim as he reaches the final stage of grief. Acceptance. 

“I know.” Is all Tim can say, resigned, before a scarlet blur swoops in. 

By some force, the car ends up crashing against the side of the highway railing, safely avoiding the other drivers. 

Tim has no idea what happened, the world a brief blur, his centre of gravity momentarily shifting out of him to the point that he feels seconds away from passing out. He doesn’t though and peels his eyes open with a groan. To his side he sees Bart with a guilty smile being held up by the collar of his suit, just like him. The difference is whilst Tim’s head is pulsing away, eyes drooping, the runner looks like he’s seconds away from being reprimanded over stealing some candy. If he were to have looked even further, he would’ve seen Riddler safely passed out next to the car-wreck, in one piece. 

He finally turns to look at the man holding them up like two puppies. 

Barry very much looks unimpressed through his cowl. “I thought we agreed Kid, no driving lessons without me.” 

Tim’s blood finally feels like it’s flowing in the right direction again, so he manages to drawl out with a wheeze. “Kid… Riddler and Plas better get in line because as soon as I can see straight again, I’m going to kill you!” 

“Plas? What are you talking about, the guy loves me!” Bart squabbles back. 

His grandad and friend both raise a sceptical brow at that. 

“Well.” Is all the young runner can muster as he nervously holds his own hands, lopsided wide smile still spread on his face. For some reason, he decides to do what he does best in these type of situations. “Is now a bad time to mention that I’m dating Batman?”

Chapter Text

“He-llo Central City! Welcome to Monster-buzz, I’m your host Luis Field and alongside with me here today is internet sensation Devon James and today is round 5 of the cross-country championship series of Monster-Buzz. We are proud to remind you of our partnership with the Holt foundation, supporting hospitals nation wide. Devon, you’re an ambassador to Central City’s hospital, so I know this probably means a lot to you.” 

“Well Luis, first, thanks for having me here today. And yes we aren’t just here to raise awareness for supporting our local hospitals, but to also raise some real money. As you may know, Central is home to one of our national treasures, the Flash. Every day he is out there, making a difference. A true American, in every way. He inspires me to do my part and he should inspire you all to do yours too! So I invite you all today-“

“Damn Eddie, you sure scored getting us these tickets. And we aren’t even far from the front rows either!” Preston, a white blonde boy with a sweet face, says excitedly as he gets comfortable in his seat, hands full of snacks and drinks. 

Multiple seats away, across the same row, another white blonde boy, Eddie, with a less sweet face and a black plaster covering his left eye practically yells back. “How many times do I have to spell it out for you dipshit, I didn’t get them for you guys!” 

“Man,” Rolly, a black boy with kind eyes and a fade, comments before anyone can get another word in, “quit playin’, you didn’t even try asking Jenny Bialecki out. Who are you trying to fool.” 

Eddie, who’s sat next to him grits through his teeth. “Dude, shut the fuck up. I did try.” He doesn’t look as intimidating as he would like to, slouched over with the purple slurpee in his hand, but why bother telling him. 

Rolly scoffs, getting a start on his hotdog as he unwraps it. “You just realised you didn’t have her number and gave up. That doesn’t exactly count as “trying”.”

Beside Rolly is Bart, already finishing up his third hotdog, before moving on to his cherry-coke slurpee. “Carol’s got her number, why didn’t you just ask her?” He mentions with a full mouth. He has her number too, but he’s not really in the mood for setting off Eddie’s fuse any further. 

Rolly nods in agreement as he nudges Eddie. “See? Didn’t. Even. Try.” 

The blonde waves them off with an irritated scowl. “Whatever guys. It’s senior year in a couple weeks and I don’t need you bozos all up in my business. She’s gonna be mine before she even knows it.” 

Carol, a half white, half east-asian girl with round frames and long parted black hair, sat between Preston and Bart, munches away at popcorn as she looks to the moody boy, unimpressed. “Forget her number, you guys aren’t even 1K friends. Does she even know you exist?” 

Bart and Preston snort at that. Rolly hides his amusement despite his eyes betraying him. Instead of arguing back, Eddie slumps back into his seat, defeatedly slurping away his drink as he looks to the mud pit in front of them. 

“Come on now Eddie, don’t be like this, you scored a bunch of tickets and not just for a date with one person. Can’t you just accept our thanks?” Rolly looks to the rest of the row for support. 

They all echo their gratitude. 

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” He brushes them off, but not without looking more relaxed. 

Rolly shares a grin with Bart. 

“Can you guys believe it, final fucking year.” Carol sighs as she also looks out to the mud pit, where different types of Monster Trucks are parked around the tracks. “And I still have no idea what the hell to major in.” 

Preston responds with a shrug. “Eh, doesn’t matter, with your grades and sob-story, you’ll get in to whatever college you want. The rest you can figure out later.” 

“Yeah that’s rich coming from Mr. Film-school himself, I saw your drafts.” Carol bites back teasingly as she steals some of Preston’s nachos.

“Look, I’ll do anything to get into that programme. It’s the same one J. Anson Schwartz graduated from. You know, Space Trek J. Anson Schwartz.” Preston explains with vigour, before his eyes flit over to his friend with curiosity. “What about you Bart? Thought about what you’re gonna do after school?” 

“After school?” The brunette looks to his friend with confusion as he chews on his slurpee’s straw.  “Uh… homework?” 

Carol rolls her eyes as the rest laugh, Eddie joining in with a snort. “We get it Allen, you’re a nerd. Besides, with your annoying-ass grades you won’t have any problems either.” 

“Grades?” Bart continues, still a little lost on what they’re talking about. “Nah man, English and History keep kicking my ass.” 

“That’s because you never read the stuff and work on everything in the last second. Literally.” Carol complains, before sharing a glance with Preston, who in the mean time is doing a terrible job at concealing his knowing smile. 

Bart simply stares at the two, deadpan at being called out like that, before Rolly chimes in. “That reminds me- Bart, are we back on our homework swap this year? I help you with English and you got me for Physics? I gotta maintain my grades if I want even a chance at one of those scholarships, you know what I’m saying? Theres only so much I can get from doing my uncle’s lawn every summer.” 

“Yeah of course man. We’ve got each other covered.” Bart agrees as they seal their deal with their signature handshake, unchanged since freshman year. 

Preston smirks as Carol shakes her head, unimpressed, before getting a start on her milkshake. Eddie is busy doing his own thing, throwing popcorn at random people. 

The loud background voice continues to boom through the speakers. “But that’s enough about that. Down on the field we have Rebecka with the Monster-Truckers. Good day Rebecka, how’s it going down there?” 

“Good afternoon, or should I say good evening Central City! Just to give you all a recap, Dynamo comes in as the favorite this week after an unexpected but grandiose overall event championship and freestyle victory all the way back in Metropolis. But so far today, it’s our long-time faves who seem to be truly shining. You know we never thought-”

Chill-hanging here with his school friends, eating all the snacks possible and drinking a bag’s worth of sugar. Life’s pretty crash right now. Bart can at least pretend for a little bit, that he hasn’t practically tossed Jay’s trust in him into the trash can, that they could part ways on unresolved terms and that he’s practically ruined one of the best things that he’s had going on in this timeline. That he has to continue brazenly hiding things from his family, boyfriend, his friends, from his team-mates. The worst part is, what with everything that’s been going on for the past months, it all just comes so naturally to him, that the only thing he truly regrets is being caught up in a moment of weakness.

It’s not like he had no alternatives. He’s made his choices and he’ll stick with them. If he had to do it all again the same way, he would. It’s not like anyone else can help the Legion with what they need, nor genuinely understand what they’re going through. But more importantly, there’s also no one else to keep an eye on them either. To figure out, what this is all truly about.

There’s a lot about this time he deeply cherishes. From video games to soft socks, he loves what feels like just about everything of the present. But material goods, they’re ultimately just, things. The Garricks on the other hand, they’re people. People, who have implicitly trusted and basically adopted him into their home with open arms. A price tag can’t be clipped onto something like that and the thought of ruining something so irreplaceable, oh, it makes him feel sick just thinking about it. 

Even though today has been a relatively peaceful day, especially compared to the previous ones that Bart has practically dragged himself through, it still feels a bit strange. Not because of the whole thing that happened in Blüdhaven, that was just an average Thursday. Lunch with Barry though, he just doesn’t know what to make of it.

Fresh from sorting out the whole Riddler ordeal and dropping off a disoriented Tim with the Bats himself, all it took was a shared look of unspoken words and a nod, before the two speedsters rushed off to change into their civvies, finding each other again at the same pizza place.

Greeted by the welcoming jingle of the door, they zoomed directly for a corner table, sitting themselves across from one another. 

“Welcome to Party Pizza Mayhem, what can I get you two gentlemen today?” A waitress with red frizzy curls asks with a beaming smile.

Without a single glance to the the menu, the two heroes simultaneously respond with equally bright smiles. “One pizza tower please.”

“Haha, jinx!” Bart jokes with an accusing point to his mentor, earning him an endeared eye roll.

The waitress, however, is frozen in place with a blink. “One… each?”

“Actually,” Barry takes a quick skim of the catalogue before he continues, “make it three pizza towers. It’s been a crazy morning.” 

The waitress slowly defrosts, as she blinks once again, even slower than previously. “Th-three? Did I hear that right? Three pizza towers? For you two?”

“Yes ma’am. And six Colas too please.” Bart confirms with his unwavering grin. 

Wordlessly, with her continued slow blinks, she makes a 180 as she heads to the kitchen to share the order. 

Famous for its tower of 10 pizzas all stacked up on one another like pancakes, if the customer can finish the “pizza tower” all within an hour, they dine for free. 

Of course, Barry is going to pay for everything regardless, like the good samaritan he is. Bart doesn’t get it. Food is a literal human right. It’s supposed to be free. If not, then why is dining and dashing only the easiest thing in the world?

The younger runner leans forward conspiratorially, he whispers. “We are sharing the third tower, right?”

“Of course kid.” Barry confirms, amused. 

Bart fist pumps the air. Today isn’t turning out too bad at all. 

Briefly eyeing their surrounding, Barry then lets out a sigh. “Bart, were you trying to get the man killed today?”

Scratch that. 

Bart lets his head hang back as he groans at the long time coming reprimand. 

“Barry.” He drawls with complaint, “I had it under control! I swear, I just needed like, a couple more seconds.” 

“A couple more seconds and your team-mate would have hurled in the back seat Bart. You’re not going to get your licence any time soon at this rate.”

“I don’t even need a licence when I could literally just run everywhere, what’s the point?”

“The point is you don’t end up seconds away from crashing a car!” Barry whispers back sternly.

“No one was gonna get hurt.” 

Before Barry could lay out his response, the previously startled waitress has clearly re-collected her marbles as she serves them with her superficially sweet smile. “Six cokes, as ordered. Enjoy!” 

The silence between them is consumed with the slurping of the drinks through their respective straws. 

“Ok, fine. Maybe everything would have been fine if you just let me practice with someone.”

“I did! You almost totalled my car and wife!” Barry accuses. Which, he wasn’t far off. 

“Uh, key word almost. Grandma actually looks back at it as a fond memory mind you.”

“Iris”, he reminds, “looks back at a lot of messed up things fondly, that doesnt-” The older hero interrupts himself before sliding to the edge of his seat to inspect Bart once-over. “Are you wearing the same clothes as yesterday?” 

What?

Bart looks down at himself. Huh, he is. 

“Uh, yeah? It’s not like you haven’t done that before old man.” Bart responds in defence.

“Why?” The blonde interrogates. 

“What do you mean why? I had nothing else at Ed’s, what else was I supposed to-” The boy shuts himself up. 

Damn it. 

“Explain.” Barry demands, arms crossed, eyes pointed. 

Bart groans in complaint. “Nothing happened! Just like the night before either.”

“Separate rooms?”

The young runner doesn’t even dignify that with a response. 

The older man looks to the side to compose his thoughts, venting with a tense sigh. 

He mutters. “And you want me to let you learn how to drive with your boyfriend.”

Offended, Bart confronts. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means you’d get up to no good!” 

Bart is incredibly close to yanking out his own hair. “Urgh! I bet Wally never had to go through any of this!”

Wide-eyed Barry is surprised at the mention. “What? What do you mean?”

The boy points to his metaphorical surroundings. “All of this. You always being on my case.” 

“Hey, I have been plenty strict with Wally back in the day too. But this- this is different.”

“Yeah “different” as in having double standards!”

“Well maybe these double standards wouldn’t exist if you didn’t give me a reason to have them in the first place. In the past 24 hours alone I had to find out from both Iris and Jay that you’ve been hiding things from me!”

“And what- Wally never hid things from you?” 

“He didn’t have to.”

“What are you- he literally pretended Artemis was dead for months.” 

“That’s-“

“-different, yeah I get it.” Bart huffs, looking away frustrated. 

“Look-“ Barry struggles, “can you just, can you just tell me where you were the night before and why you were with Ed yesterday.”

Unfazed, the boy continues to stare at the edge of a wall. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.” 

Barry is losing his patience. “Actually, you do Bart. You have a lot of explaining to do, especially because I’ve heard that you’re a lying liar, with pants on fire!”

How Barry can say this stuff without breaking face is genuinely beyond Bart. He risks a glance. 

Barry looks incredibly mad with him. Oh yeah, it’s because he actually means what he says. 

“I’m not! Nothing happened yesterday. His dad was there!” Bart reemphasises, mirroring the older hero’s crossed arms. 

At the mention of Dr. Dorado, Barry loses some steam.

“Weren’t you supposed to be on dinner duty yesterday? Jay was looking forward to telling you some news.” 

At the reminder of the previous night’s events, the younger hero visibly deflates, mouth strongly downturned. 

Barry picks up on the boy’s turn of mood. It’s rare to catch the kid this down. 

“Do you- do you want to maybe talk about it?”

The brunette continues to avoid his eyes. “No.” 

They’re stuck at a standstill of loaded silence, the murmurs from the other customers filling the blanks. 

A stack of pizzas breaks them right out of it. “Here you go, one freshly delivered pizza tower. Please understand, the other two will join you both after a bit of a delay. We haven’t had to make so many pies in a long time. Not ever since Kid Flash set that record. I still remember the day so clearly, it was a ride I can tell you that much.” 

Brows furrowed, Bart looks confused. “Kid Flash has never been here though?”

“She means the original Kid Flash.” Barry lets slip. 

“Indeed. We have his feat on display over there, it’s the pride of our establishment.” She points to the wall by the kitchen, where Wally can be seen in his Kid Flash suit, surrounded by five stacks of pizzas, with the widest smile ever. He couldn’t have been older than Bart’s age right now. 

Matching fond smiles take over the two speedster’s faces. In that one picture alone, everything is alright with the world. 

“Those were the good old days. I miss the original Kid Flash, anyone know what he’s up to recently?”

Despite their polite smiles, the two runners’ eyes turn defeated. “No. Haven’t heard a word.” Barry kindly responds.

“Shame.” The waitress continues undeterred, tone taking a dubious twist. “Between you and me, I don’t trust the new Kid Flash much. He comes along and suddenly the original one is out of commission? Suspicious if you ask me.”

The young hero laughs back dryly. He’s stuck in his head. “Sure is ma’am. Between you and me, the new Kid Flash is actually a lying liar with pants on fire!” He bats his lashes with sarcastic emphasis, tone dripping with snark. 

The lady feels like she missed a step somewhere, eyes squinting with confusion. “Uh?”

Barry intervenes, clearing his throat with a cough. “About the delay, no worries ma’am. We understand, take your time.” He reminds with a nod, hoping she can read the tension and make her merry way. 

The waitress however completely misses the message, chuckling in response. “`Ma’am´? How old does your father think I am?” She tries to joke with Bart. 

With wide eyes, Barry rushes to clear the confusion. “Oh I’m not-“ He frets. 

Holding her eyes with the same excessively exaggerated smile, Bart answers for him. “We’re not related. My father is dead.” He then turns away, sliding a slice off the stack of pizzas, stuffing his face with it.

Loud and clear, the lady now senses she significantly misstepped and with a strained smile, she leaves. 

Bewildered, Barry doesn’t know how make sense of the situation. “Bart-” he tries, tone incredulous.

The younger boy continues to chew, eyes fixed to the food below.  

Barry also catches the message, sliding off a slice for himself. 

They chew in continued silence. Less than ten minutes pass, the pizza pile has been devoured. 

Bart preoccupies himself with his drink.

The older Flash tries. “How about this weekend, you and I. I’ll teach you how to drive.” 

The younger Flash fixes his gaze to the bottom of his drink. “Can’t. My shift changed and I promised Iris to look after the twins.” And he still needs to finalise his blueprints ASAP. The sooner they get a start on collecting and building the right material, the sooner everything gets done, and the likelier Jay will be safe on his first mission. 

“I mean- I’m sure Iris wouldn’t mind taking over for just a couple of hours, so that us guys can hang out a bit. What do you say kid?”

Bart sighs quietly through his nose. “Iris is going to some GBS barbecue event to talk to Pete one to one Barry. I don’t think she’ll have a couple of hours”

“Oh. Right.” The blonde’s shoulders drop. With a hand, he rubs his temples. “God, overtime has been affecting me more than I thought. The department wants to sign off on a pile of cold cases but they’re just laying there, looking at me for help, to be solved. But then being on constant call for the League, it’s like a never-ending trade off. Whilst I’m out trying to protect lives, others like the cold cases are being affected. And that includes my own family. ”

The young speedster concedes a long, heavy look to his mentor. He relents with a face of understanding, tone soft. “I know Barry. You don’t have to explain yourself, like the best hero-team ever always says, I got you covered. You don’t have to worry.”

A hesitant smile grows on the older man’s face. He huffs affectionately. “That you do.” 

Again they sit in silence. But at the very least, it’s not as tense as previously. Tight lipped in thought, with a deciding breath through his nose, he tries again. “I’ll help you out with the twins this weekend if I’m free. We can all go to Shake-Shack.” 

With a small sweet smile, Bart nods. “Yeah, okay that’d be crash.” 

“But if not- or even if we do. There’s an event next Tuesday. In Detroit. Another Harrison Wells talk. I know you haven’t really enjoyed these things, so I understand if you don’t want to go okay? But if you have nothing else planned-“

The young hero pouts with confusion. “I thought he finished his rounds last month and went back to the other end of the coast?” 

“E-exactly! That’s what I said too!” The older hero shares animatedly. “But yes, he’s got one more talk and I’m going. What do you think about joining?”

Honestly, it’s so easy for Bart to say no. His granddad is right, he does find them incredibly boring. The long winded format is not something he clicks with, at all. But as he learnt last night, even the dearest of family bonds can be so fragile. He never expected something like that to happen. With Owen? Sure, their bond was volatile and filled with hurt. Jennie? Whilst airtight, they both ultimately always parted for their separate ways, each and every time. He’d have thought, these things are what makes a relationship delicate. He was wrong. 

Maybe, he’s still the slightest bit sensitive from yesterday’s argument. Ultimately, who is he to complain about spending more time with his Granddad.

“Sounds like a plan gramps.” 

Tension bleeds as Barry eases up, happiness making itself known. “Crash.” 

Iris is ultimately, always right. 

“-the power rankings would get this big but it’s all these guys can talk about. So stick around to find out, who’s gonna come out on top tonight. Now, let’s go have a talk with the contestants.” 

Deeply lost in his thoughts, a slap to his head quite literally knocks him out of it.

“Ow, what the hell Carol?! What ever happened to “Hey Bart” instead of-”

She ignores him as she grabs his head to look to where she’s pointing.  “Look, you idiot!”

A couple rows below them, a head of thick platinum, almost white, blonde hair mockingly greets his vision. 

Is one day of peace really too much to ask for?

“No way-” Preston whispers from the side, tone a blend of excitement and alarm. “-is that Thessa Barlow?” 

Theresa Bramer, taking her mom’s maiden name to call herself Thessa Barlow, used to be a year above them. She graduated this summer, right before she took her gang to the streets and committed a series of grand larceny.

Bart would’ve intervened. But between literally everything and actually enjoying his summer break, what he personally considers essentially petty theft, just doesn’t rank that high up on his list of priorities. Especially when he’s been too busy secretly committing his own series of robberies as well. He feels some twisted sense of superiority, knowing that he’s managed to grab stuff of higher value than her and her stupid rookies. 

Their mutual animosity didn’t stem out of nowhere. Early in freshman year, Thessa as a sophomore tried to recruit the naïve and impressionable boys of his class into joining her posse of hooligans. Not that she had to even try too hard, one flash of her cleavage and bat of her eyes and all too many were queuing up. 

Considering school was and still is the ultimate snooze fest to him, Bart had no problem intervening whenever she so much as attempted to commit any crime. But that’s also where his first mistake lied. 

Bart doesn’t have a fancy Flash ring, which didn’t work out in his favor at the time, considering his own tendency to forget about secret identities. So the first few times he intervened, she caught him as a nosy civilian foiling her plans. And Bart wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of making the connection by randomly showing up one day as Kid Flash. He’s not that bad. Besides, it was mostly petty crime. So Kid Flash wasn’t really needed.

The problem was, Bart made an enemy out of Thessa. She doesn’t forgive and she sure doesn’t forget. Especially what with Bart’s own tendency of influencing impressionable people as well. He didn’t want his friends to be involved in stuff they wouldn’t normally do, so he tried his best to keep them away from her. But that just ended up interfering with her plans, adding fuel to the fire. 

The thing is, Bart genuinely doesn’t think she’s a bad person. Malicious? Sure, but plain bad? Not so much. Throughout the couple of years of intervening, he’s tried to talk her out of doing things, that she’s better than all this. She’s never realised that Bart sees similarities between them, not just in terms of their shared propensity for sticky fingers, but also in terms of how she just ultimately wants to do her own thing. 

When she revealed that the reason she keeps organising her heists was to afford bail for her mom, who her own cop-dad keeps locking up, he really thought he managed to make a point of how she doesn’t need to involve others for the sake of her own schemes, there’s always another way. 

Their similarities continue in their stubbornness and though she promised him she’ll try to turn the other leaf, she hasn’t. It didn’t help that they both frequented CCPD events because of her dad and Barry, giving them all the more opportunities to butt heads.

Like the pest she is, as if the eyes from the back of her head sensed the group’s eyes on her, she turns to face them. 

Ice blue meets lime green. Upon contact, both sets of eyes narrow in contempt simultaneously. 

“Well, well. What do we have here. Narc Allen and his gang of ultra-losers.” She bellows condescendingly. 

Carol doesn’t really like her at all either. That much is clear as she answers before him, crossing her arms. “Aren’t you supposed to be in juvie?” 

With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, she replies as she inspects her own manicure. “The grown ups call it jail, brat. Served time and did my due during the break.” 

Bart interjects before he can help himself. “You got processed that quickly? Let me guess, daddy got you out of there?” He knows it’s a low blow, but he doesn’t really care all that much either.  

She briefly freezes before her face twists with anger, practically throwing herself out of her seat, climbing up the rows to face him directly. People make sure to steer clear of her as she makes her ascend. She grabs on to the seat in front of him, acrylic nails denting the plastic of the chair.  

“You want to say that again to my face Allen? You know, you better watch it, I’m gonna be hitting the big leagues soon. Before you even know it, the Rogues and the Flash are gonna be answering to me.”  

His friends rustle in their seats uncomfortably, realising that the goons Thessa seems to have been sitting with look more like ex-convicts, rather than her usual bunch of high school kids giving being a bad boy a shot. 

Bart doesn’t hide his caustic tone as he barks out a laugh. “The Rogues are super villains, you’re just a second rate thief. What type of super villain is a Thessa Barlow?”

Carol snorts. 

“In case you missed it, which you have, coward, I go by my street handle now. White Lightning.” 

“Uh.” Carol looks around as if Thessa has missed something incredibly obvious. “Isn’t the point of a secret identity, that it’s a secret?” 

Thessa and Bart both groan at that. “Uh.” She mocks. “Not when you’re fucking awesome.” 

“Exactly.” Bart grins in agreement, before realising whose side he’s taking, previous scowl returning. 

Carol looks at him with folded arms and a raised brow. 

With the tension of the situation loosening, Preston braves himself as he asks. “But White Lightning? It’s got nothing to do with you. You don’t even have any lightning powers. If anything, isn’t it… a bit white supremacist coded?” 

“Excuse me?” She responds, disgusted. 

“Well, one of the most famous black heroes is Black Lightning… and he’s got literal black lightning powers too, it’s a bit strange to go by White Lightning. Especially since you’re white.” 

Carol all but revels in the opportunity to taunt the older girl. “Careful Barlow, you’ll attract a new group of losers to brainwash to do your bidding.” 

Eddie cackles at that. 

“What are you laughing at, last I recall, you were a part of her gang freshman year.” Rolly reminds him. 

That shuts the former delinquent up. 

“White. Lighting. Because I strike before anyone knows it. Learn it. Non-racially motivated. The people with brains will get it and they’re the only ones who matter.” She seethes at them before collecting herself, refocusing. “You nimrods would’ve heard about all the cred White Lightning has racked up by now-” she motions to her gang of criminals behind her, “if your little Bartholomew over here didn’t play scaredy-cat all summer and came to see what real crime is about. But no, I guess someone was too busy cleaning up after his narc uncle who’s swamped with his pile of unsolved cases. The whole force has been talking about him loosing his touch. Boohoo. Did he make you the snack boy? Were you on donut duty?”

“Hey, that’s not cool Thessa.” Rolly reprimands. 

Bart patronises back. “Workplace gossip huh, isn’t that beneath you? Besides, where did you even hear all that. From your narc dad who had to bail your ass out of serious charges? The same narc who calls you daddy’s little princess, is that right?” 

The older girl is losing her cool if the cracking of the plastic beneath her nails is anything to go by. She pulls her face into a snarl. “Oh you want to talk daddy issues? You? Of all people? I’m not the one who calls his fucking kid cousin dad, what’s up with that?  Freak !” 

“Hey, if you want to call your problems daddy issues then go right ahead, I’m not stopping you. The first step forwards is always acceptance.”

Okay, she’s lost it. “Fucking asshole, I’ll kill you!” She yells as she swipes in an attempt to grab him. 

Clearly they had already caused a commotion by that point, as security had gathered close by, reacting in time to separate them before anything escalates. 

“Don’t touch, let go of me, son of a-“ She grumbles as she yanks herself out of security’s grip. She eventually returns to her seat, but not before sending Bart a scathing glare. 

Naturally, he returns the favor. 

Rolly breaks the briefly charged silence. “That girl is unhinged.” 

The others let out a breath of relief they didn’t realise they were holding. Bart just gets a start on his churro. 

As they get settled back into the swing of the moment, with the background noise of the trucks, presenters and audience lulling the tension away, Preston catches Bart and Carol’s attention with a whispered “Psssst.”

The two look to him with a curious raise of their brows as they lean closer. 

The blonde can’t contain his excitement. “How cool was that? You’re literally gonna get your own super-villain!” 

Carol rolls her eyes for the nth time today. If she keeps it up, they might just roll out of her head. A consequence of being best friends with two fools.

Bart sounds offended. “Are you serious? I did not almost accidentally murder Riddler this morning, just for you to say that man.” 

Like she said, fools.

“You did what ?!” Preston practically squeals.

“Point is,” Bart hand waves the topic away, “dealing with her is the least of my concerns right now.” 

This catches Carol’s interest. The runner usually likes to join the blonde in his silly hero fantasies. She briefly shares a worried look with Preston. “You know, she’s got a point though.” 

Carol agreeing with Thessa? Of all people? Clearly the Klamulons have gotten to her.

“Huh?” 

She presses her lips into a line. “Look, if I didn’t know any better I’d say it sounded like she missed you foiling her plans.”

“That’s hilari-“ He interrupts before she cuts him off. 

“Honestly though, she’s not wrong. You’ve been busier than usual recently. And it’s summer.  What’s up? You know you can talk to us.”

“Yeah Bart,” Preston adds. “You’ve been all over the news recently, like, it can’t be easy- we get it.  And that stuff with your uncle? You’ve always got us to fall back on, talk to us man.” 

He takes a good look at his friends. Their eyes are deep with reassurance. 

Bart lets out a deep sigh. “Yeah, I know.” He says genuinely. “Sorry guys, I guess it’s been a bit crazy with the twins recently. Five year old tornados can be quite a handful.” 

They both smile kindly at him. Preston punches him in the arm. “Man, you could’ve told us you needed help with babysitting. Carol and I have a good rate too you know? Free snacks and a meet and greet with Tork himself.” 

The girl side eyes him. 

The blonde nervously corrects himself. “I-I mean, free snacks only works too.” 

Bart smiles, he loves his friends. “Noted, next time, it’s a sleepover.”

“Alright!” Preston high fives Carol. “Crash, it’s gonna be a celebration of the beginning of senior year!” 

Carol grins wide at that. “The first week couldn’t come any sooner, it’s going to be amazing.” 

The blonde agrees, giddy excitement vibrating in his voice. “I know, us walking the halls as seniors? We’ve finally made it.” 

“What are you three gossiping about over there?” Rolly leans over to them. 

“About how Eddie’s clearly still got the hots for Thessa. He’s never gonna win Jenny over at this rate.” Carol swiftly replies, continuing casually with her popcorn. 

Rolly huffs an impressed laugh. “And I thought I was the only one who noticed, nothing flies past you Bucklen!” 

“Uh guys? I’m literally right here.” Eddie yaps. 

Hypnotised by the vibrant colours of the monster-truck rally, the rumbling of the engines and crowd, the grind of gravel under the wheels, Bart relaxes into the backdrop of his friends chatter, mentally melting into his seat.

Senior year is round the corner. Everyone’s excited, his friends, his family, Jay. Apparently it’s a big thing in this era.

Bart wonders what graduation was like for Imra and Reep. Reep hasn’t had the opportunity yet it seems, what with whatever intergalactic disaster in the 31st century taking precedence. What is it that has the Legion so fearful, so horrified. What is it that people died for, that Conner was killed for. What is it, that could pose a very real risk to all the people in his life. 

All this secrecy, and for what. 

He realises that ultimately, the Legion are all operating within the principles of their team. It’s not like it was with him, one sole person, responsible for making decisions. It’s not just Imra and Reep. It’s whatever the Legion has been fighting for, their shared sense of principles, that guides them. Every single action of theirs, every quiver of being tight-lipped, it all depends on the certainty that someone, is out there to bring them back home. That there is a time-stream worth returning to. 

Being so tight-knit to these values, it’s a miracle that they approached Bart in the first place.

Desperation, the runner muses. He get’s it, after all, it catalysed his own actions when he first joined the present. 

How did this all start in the first place?

Oh right, they rang his bell. 

Chapter Text

Considering most, if not all, available heroes had been on emergency call the night before due to the Klarion vs Child global catastrophe mess, many had spent the next day off recuperating. Of course, during such times among other heroes, Team Flash and their seemingly endless pit of energy picks up the slack for the days worth of calls for help. As representatives of both the League and the Outsiders, they had finished their shifts late into the evening, parting ways back to their respective homes. Spending the rest of the night lazing about, sprawled across the living room couch after dinner with Jay, his guardian was getting ready to leave for the library.

At the time Bart did find it odd that the other speedster had planned to go out so late. Was the library even open at that point? He would’ve questioned the man if he weren’t so immersed in the group chat. Most of his friends had woken up by now from their post disaster hibernation and Traci desperately wanted everyone to meet up at their usual spot in El Paso, to share some big news. The chat kept trying to coax the reveal out of her, but she was too excited to budge. 

Blue : u’re all so wrong it’s actually embarrassing

Sunshine <3 : look at this guy over here, pretending his guesses wouldn’t be a billion times worse if he wasn’t the first person Traci told 

I’m the Sand Guardian […] : it’s gotta be related to last night!! Something with your magic!!!!!!  

13 : I’m not saying shit y’all! U need to get your asses over here, it’s major stuff and honestly I kinda rlly rlly rlly need everyones second opinion before I can even think about talking to my dad about it. 

Staticshock : that does sound pretty big  O_O

13 : no kidding! 

Shadow (not the hedgehog) : IHAP or JJs? 

Me : oh man I haven’t had pancakes since Thursday!! IHAP 100% 

Blue : bro… do you mean since yesterday? 

Me : Thursday is yesterday??? I swear two weeks have passed tf 

Shadow (not the hedgehog) : my vote goes to JJs 

Me : ???????????????????

Starwho : just woke up and have no idea what’s going on but whatever bart said, the opposite 

Shadow (not the hedgehog) : so thats two votes for JJs  

Staticshock : sorry bart but JJs burgers slap 

Me : yeah they slap me right in the face with pancake depravation, thanks a lot y’all 

Shadow (not the hedgehog) : any time 

I’m the Sand Guardian […] : they’ve got pancakes at JJs too Bart

Sunshine <3 : its not the same Cassie

Me : <3333333

Shadow (not the hedgehog) : ugh bring back homophobia ! 

Me : lmfaoooooo

Bart snorts out loud at that. He’d never admit it directly to Tye’s face for the sake of their shared faux sense of pride, but he’s too funny sometimes. 

[ Lt. Tork has left the chat. ]

Shadow (not the hedgehog) : … uh disclaimer I wasn’t serious about that fyi 

Blue : ?

Blue : did something happen?

Shadow (not the hedgehog) : u don’t think he took that seriously… do u? 

I’m the Sand Guardian […] : no I think

I’m the Sand Guardian […] : Perdita visited him last night to check up on him, he hasn’t been doing too hot recently. But I thought it would cheer him up at least

Staticshock : that’s not a good sign 

Starwho : I can zeta to the Premiere Building first to check in before heading to El Paso? 

I’m the Sand Guardian […] : Tim, Tara and Forager are there on call already but it’s a good idea, I’ll meet u there too

It’s no secret among them with what’s been going on with Gar. Bart himself has seen the face that’s been dragging the actor down for the past months all too often throughout his childhood. It might as well have been the default expression of the average person from his time. An exhaustion so deeply entrenched, that it feels impossible to recover from. The rest of the team has also started catching on, realising that their leader has clearly been plagued by something since his return to Earth, and that no matter how much space and time they give him, it looks to only be getting worse.

Bart was about to type out that he was going to join them there too, before a hand plants itself across his face, ruffling him about. 

“Mrrppsssht- hey!” He giggles, muffled, lightly shoving the hand away from him. With a bright smile he looks up, greeted with the gentle adoration his guardian all too often looks at him with. “What was that for?”

“Just letting you know that I’m heading out now. I’ll probably be a while, so don’t wait up for me. Remember, don’t do anything silly whilst I’m out.” Jay sternly reminds him like a clockwork.

“Why yes Jay, I will throw the party of the century whilst you’re out!” The boy quips, at which the older runner huffs in amusement. 

Heading out to the hallway, he puts on his shoes and collects his keys. “You’ll be okay kid?” 

Lazily waving the older Flash away from where he continues to be sprawled across the sofa, Bart fixes his eyes back to his phone screen. He answers absentmindedly. “Yeah. Gonna head out to the Premiere and then El Paso in a bit. Traci’s got some major news and I think everyone just kinda wants to chill-hang together, especially after yesterday.” 

“Oh, sound’s fun. Well, the same still applies, y’all behave and keep me in the loop, okay?”

“Yesssssir!” 

With a final smile, the older Flash double checks his pockets before catching himself in the mirror. 

It’s just one session with Dinah, doesn’t hurt to see what his options are.

13 : honestly take ur time y’all, weekend’s tomorrow anyway so we’re in no hurry

13 : we can meet in about an hour or two by JJs? 

Starwho : sounds gd <3

I’m the Sand Guardian […] : see u later girl! 

Staticshock : we’ll be there

In the background, Bart hears the front-door shut close.

Sunshine <3 : hey, if u guys need me by the Premiere, let me knw

Blue : yeah same, keep us posted 

Bart was typing out a guys give me 5 min and ill be there, before the ring of the doorbell interrupts him. 

Jay forgot something? But he wouldn’t ring the bell. 

Speeding to the door out of habit, he winces guiltily, sorry Joan, before opening the front door with a friendly face.

Two strangers, a tall blonde girl and an equally tall guy with brown hair greet his vision, expressions incredibly earnest. 

They gotta either be the youngest Jay Garrick Flash fanatics ever or super lost. 

Or they’re trying to recruit him for their pyramid scheme. Where can he sign up? He’s always wanted to build one.  

“Kid Flash.”

Rain-check on the pyramid building then.

Surprise mars his face. The girl continues, eyes dead-set, face adamant. “We need to talk.” 

Somehow, Bart can feel the charge in the atmosphere. The severity in her tone.

Nevertheless.

“Listen- I get it!” He tries, amping up the sympathy that lathers his voice. “The old, asking any random good-looking guy if he’s Kid Flash trick. Can’t lie and say I haven’t been there done that it myself a bunch of times.” He shrugs with exaggeration. “After all, we’re all major Flash fans here in Central. Hey, speaking of, that guy over there with his dog is walking kinda funny, I think you’ll have better luck asking him.” 

The boy behind the girl turns to look across the street. “… He’s blonde.” He rasps. 

Someone get him a cough drop. 

With a conspiring look, Bart whispers back. “That’s how they get you! He could be wearing a wig for all we know. Better pull on his hair, just to be safe.” 

The two look at him, entirely unimpressed. 

Smile plastered across his face, he continues unfazed. “Okay great, now that that’s been settled, I’ve got somewhere to be. So if you don’t mind-“

The blonde stops him from slamming the door in their faces, steadily keeping it open in place by its edge. “Bart, please.” She urges, voice steady but grave. “We have a lot to explain and we really need your help.” 

Grin long gone, suspicion takes over. “Have we met? I’ve got a pretty decent memory and zero idea who the two of you are.” 

“We haven’t.” The girl says truthfully. “But we know who you are. Where you’re from, or more like when.” 

Yeah okay, what the fuck. 

He simply blinks at them. Face unreadable. It takes a lot to phase him and these two sure are eating the cake- slicing the cake- taking- whatever. 

Recognising that they’re headed nowhere, at her wits ends, she spills. “Look, I realise we are going about this the wrong way. My name is Imra Ardeen, also known as Saturn Girl,” She motions to her friend. “Reep Daggle, Chameleon Boy.” 

The runner remains silent. 

“We are from the 31st century. We came here to prevent the death of Conner Kent, Superboy, with clearly… little success.” She deflates, tone regretful. “To make matters worse, our time-sphere has been sabotaged and we are at a total deadbeat on how to continue further.”

He raises a brow. “Deadbeat?” 

The guy steps in. “She means deadlock. No matter how much she denies it, 21st century terminology isn’t her strong suit.”

Amen to that. Bart can relate.

Clearly rattled at her friend’s reminder, her brows furrow slightly. “Yes. Deadlock. Whatever. Point is, we are at an impasse. Our sphere was our only shot at having even the slightest chance of setting things right and saving our timeline. With the way things are, it’s currently an intergalactic disaster.” 

Humoring them, he asks. “What happened?”

The boy frets. “It’s hard to properly explain without revealing too much, the time-stream is fragile enough, you understand how it is, right?” 

The runner responds with a hollow snort. He clearly has a very different time-travel philosophy compared to the two. But before he tries to explain himself on that end, he eyes the duo through their respective golden rings that he quickly slipped away from them, treating them like a pair of binoculars. 

The supposed two time travellers make a garbled sound of alarm upon realisation.

“You guys sure married young.” 

All he gets in response is pure gibberish, the two clearly voicing their distress at his action. 

A pressure weaves through his head. “Apologies for the mind-link Kid Flash. I understand humans are justifiably cautious towards telepathy, however without those rings, this is our only means of communication.” 

Bro…

“Bro?”  She echoes. 

Oh right- mind link. 

“Why didn’t you guys just start with this? Are you Martians? And what are these rings?” 

Even in his mind, the boy thinks with a rasp. “It’s a lot to explain. Imra can share what she can through the mind-link. But before that, we also have something to show you. She’s in your backyard.”

She?

Turns out, it was a semi-camouflaged Bioship. Who would’ve thought. 

“No way girl- I thought you were retired!” He exclaims with unfiltered joy, speeding to hug her. At least, in the only way an alien space ship can be hugged. 

Bioship chirps in excitement. 

With their rings returned, Imra explains. “I opened my mind to her and she kindly brought us back. It took us over a month, but we couldn’t afford to stay on Mars any longer. Not with our sphere in ruins and us having no where else to go. Maybe that’s also why she hasn’t left our side since.” She pets Bioship tenderly, eyes wistful with gratitude. 

Similarly continuing to pet the space ship, he takes a good look at the two strangers. Old habits die hard and all innate alarm bells are sounding off in his head like crazy at the situation. But among those old habits, gut feeling has always been his strength. 

His brother always said they got it from the women of their family, their mom- 

Iris. He mentally adds to the list.

It’s how he knew he could trust the biggest big bad, Blue Beetle Jaime, with the weight of his apocalyptic prophecy. It’s how he knew that despite being his grandfather’s literal murderer and a weapon of mass destruction for so long, he could afford to sleep under the safety of Nathaniel’s vigilance. It’s how he knew that despite all the sweet promises grandfather Thad promised him as a child, he knew he had to get out of his care since day one. 

There’s something so tensely desperate about them and if this era has taught him anything, it’s to embrace his empathetic side, the one that wants to give people a chance. Where he’s now in a position to have the means to do so in the first place. It’s no longer a world of everyone for themselves.

“What exactly is it that you guys need me to do?” He asks cautiously.

Relieved at the first signs of progress being made, Imra responds. “It’s probably best if we just show you directly. We can talk it out properly within the privacy of Bioship.” With a final pat, Bioship opens up. 

Right in the centre of the ship, stands a massive hive-patterned spherical shell, half of it smashed open, shards of glass surrounding it. Within the sphere lies a mess of broken tech, remnants of what Bart assumes used to power and operate the supposed time machine. 

“Wow, you guys sure weren’t exaggerating. This sphere is a total wreck.”

The telepath shares a look of guilt with her teammate before asking. “We were hoping- Do you think you could repair it back to its original state?” 

Bart takes a few steps closer to the sphere to examine it closely before glancing to the two from the corner of his eyes. “What gave you the impression that I could in the first place?”  

The boy- Reep speaks up. “Well, you’re a Thawne right?” 

The runner chuckles uncomfortably. “Excuse me?” That’s a name he hasn’t heard in a while. 

Reep moves to nervously stand a little closer to the blonde. “I-I mean- it’s pretty much public record in our era that you built your own time machine to get here. But the finer details, like how you know everything and stuff, well in the history files it says that’s because of your family, right?” 

He doesn't want to give them the satisfaction of confirming their assumption by arguing that it was more because of his mom than her nut job sorry excuse of a father, especially as he’s still unsure on where he stands with the two visitors. “What else do these history files say?” 

Imra recognises the opportunity to earn his trust. “Obviously we can’t tell you everything, spoilers like you famously say. And it’s not like they’re an exhaustive record of your entire life. But starting with the basics, well- it was the year 2043, you were born to Don Allen and Meloni Thawne. You have a half brother, Owen Harkness, son of Digger Harkness, this era’s Captain Boomerang. Your aunt, Dawn Allen, had a child with Jeven Ognats, namely your cousin Jenni Ognats. When you were five, the Tornado Twins were executed by the Reach, after which you and your cousin were imprisoned for meta—“

“Yeah- okay. I get the idea. I know my own life story, thanks.” Bart mumbles, mildly exasperated. He still doesn’t know what to make of them. “How do I know you didn’t just get all that from my mind? You still haven’t answered my question, are you Martians?”  

“Because you would have felt it. Not even someone of Miss Martian’s calibre could enter a mind without leaving even the faintest trace behind. It’s just not possible. And no, we are not Martians. I am from Titan-”  

“Saturn’s moon?” 

“Yes.” She confirms with a fond smile. “Telepathy is native to our race. Reep is from the planet Durla.” 

“My people are shapeshifters.” The boy says proudly, before morphing into his original form. 

The runner’s eyes widen at the sudden transformation. “Crash.” He says to himself.

“I know right.” The Durlan beams. Clearly someone has been lacking the attention he craves. 

He feels for them. As suspicious as he was- is, there’s just so much to them that screams, stranded time travellers. Their behaviour and story aside, there’s also this giant heap of scraps of a so-called time-sphere. 

The runner carefully steps into it, crouching to take a better close-up of the trashed components inside. 

Among the rubble, he lifts up what he assumes previously made up a portion of the pilot’s seat. Inside, it’s densely packed with weird, practically foreign, wiring, hooked up to what he assumes are portable fusion reactors. He can only guess then, that the strange circuitry serves as some type of battery cell. Lightly tossing the seat-piece in the air, he also notes how surprisingly lightweight it is. 

Taking a step back, he hears bursts of cracking static, muffled from beneath the sphere. Upon closer inspection, he realises the floorboard is completely fractured into tiny shards, yet still retains its stability. Grabbing a random pole-shaped piece of wreckage, he repeatedly smashes the floor in an attempt to splinter the pieces away. 

The other two time-travellers yelp in surprise, startled, unsure if they should intervene or not.

A crack increasingly grows and he manages to push a section back, unveiling what lies below. Trapped smoke gushes out, flashes of sparks pounce around, the newly exposed heavyweight tech clearly burnt and short-circuited. 

The startled gasps from behind him clues him into the fact that the two probably didn’t even realise how damaged their sphere really was. 

All three cough at the fumes, with Bio-ship morphing for better ventilation.

“Grife, just what we needed.” The telepath complains with a wheeze as she heads closer to the sphere, handwaving the smoke away to get a better look of the newly unveiled ruins.

Whilst some, if not most, of the wiring and parts are unfamiliar to him, he recognises a few key components from his own time-machine. Particle hyper-accelerator, check. Exotic matter distributor, check. Zeta-tube power core, check. 

After his mom had freed him and Jenni from the Reach’s laboratory, basically a lab-rat torture chamber, Owen was tasked with taking care of them, as their mom was more often than not, out in the field with the rebel fighters. Once she had been killed in action, Jenni, a couple years older than him and having lost her father already, had decided she could take care of herself and ventured out. Eight years old Bart at the time was heart broken, but Owen stayed true to his responsibility as older brother and stuck with him.

Time passed and things happened. 

Things that could only happen to a young speedster with no control over his own powers due to the lack of experience, restrained by the environment they were stuck in. Owen realised, he was completely out of his depth with taking care of Bart. He needed help.

With basically no other alternative, Owen didn’t know any better than to seek refuge with their grandfather “Thad” Thaddeus Thawne, a member of the human advisors to the Reach. Delusional glorified HR slaves if you asked Bart. 

Under the watchful supervision of their grandfather’s staff, separated from his brother who was sent off by Thad directly to one the Reach slave camps, Bart was surrounded by an archive of resources. Library upon library of all sorts of books and materials. He was stuck in a prison within a prison, with lots of time to spare. 

He had also discovered his mom’s hidden abandoned work on time-travel, from before she had met his dad. With the time she spent trying to help grow the rebellion since his birth, and the time he had spent in captivity, or under the care of his brother, well, he didn’t really know his mom all that much. Not like Owen did. But finding her logbooks and notes, it was like she was still around with him, by his side. He felt like he got to know her better, delude himself into the idea that, he could still honor her in some way from beyond her ashes by continuing her work. 

The point is, he knows his stuff. Just from a brief glance alone, Bart can say with certainty that this newly minted death trap definitely used to be a time machine. And with its strange circuitry practices relying on conceptual theory that Bart, yet alone this century, has never even heard of, along with the clearly extraterrestrial material the floor, glass, wiring, everything is made of, it wouldn’t be the most unreasonable thing to say: this shit is definitely from a thousand years in the future. 

There are just too many variables at play supporting Imra and Reep´s case. 

Carefully exiting the sphere, he looks to the two as he undusts his hands. “Too many components are obviously missing, probably burnt to ashes or something. Like, there’s no way the hyper-accelerator is hooked up to nothing and there’s no containment unit for the matter’s distributor neither which is ridiculous, we’re all getting irradiated by it as we speak FYI, just saying.” 

The two look at him like he stole their rings again, lost in translation. 

With a slight raise of his brow he continues, slower. “If that loopy thing really is some type of processing unit, just by taking Koomey’s Law and the Dennard Scaling into account- and you guys have literally zero idea what I’m talking about, do you.” He doesn’t even have to ask. 

Their only response? A pair of sheepish smiles, Imra picking on her fingers and Reep fumbling with his hands. 

He leans against one of the seats Bioship has morphed up, crossing his arms. “Listen you two, your time-sphere over here? It isn’t just feeling the mode. It’s totally dead. Deaaaaaaaad. Wanna hear it in Spanish? Muerto.”

Bubble clearly burst, the Durlan deeply frowns as the Titan takes in a deep breath with closed eyes. She rubs her temple. 

Composed, but not without a furrow, she clarifies. “So you can’t fix it back to the way it was before?” 

“Sure I can, let me just magically conjure up all the missing and fried parts from a thousand years in the future.” 

Clearly the wrong thing to say, Imra just falls to the floor as she drags herself down against the wall, grabbing her own scalp tensely, panicking. “By Saturn, we are so fucking fucked Cham. Fuck!” 

Okay, maybe Bart should’ve paid better attention to those social-care workshops that Ed keeps dragging him to, this one was on him.

A little more softly, he tries. “Is there really no one from your timeline to pick you up? Clearly time-travel is a standard thing in your era, there’s gotta be someone?”

Crouched beside his leader, attempting to calm her as well as tone down his own anxiety, Reep answers. “There’s this one guy in our crew, he builds his own time-spheres and other contraptions all the time. We’ve tried to re-align the time-stream as much as we can for him to come but, nothing.”

Bart joins them on the floor. “To at least 99%?”

“Huh?”   

“A time-stream is only really aligned if it has a less than 1% margin of error.”

Lost for words, the shape-shifter is tongue tied as the telepath speaks up again, calm but subdued. Quietly, she utters. “I don’t know if that’s even possible at this stage, with Superboy dead…”

Crouched right opposite her, Bart tries to meet her eyes. “Hey, look, there’s an advantage to being from so far in the future. The law of big numbers. Your timeline is way less sensitive to change. For all you know, you could currently be at 98.9% or something.” 

She doesn't budge, eyes still fixed to the floor in guilt, glowering.

Since arriving to the present, Bart had always wondered whether he’d ever encounter other time-travellers. After all, if he could do it, then at the very least others among the vast universe and infinite time-stream could too. 

The thing is, Bart came to this era because humanity was literally rotting away, living a life that was bluntly put, just not worth living. So yeah, the general rule of thumb is, meeting time travellers? They’re probably really bad news.

He can’t be entirely sure as to whether they’re trustworthy or not, all things considered. With the time-stream, the safety of his loved ones at play, it’s just not something he’s willing to gamble with at all. 

No way he’s letting them out of his sight now.

“Look, from what I’ve seen on missions through the years, tech here isn’t exactly up to 31st century standard. Nothing like this.” He motions to the wreckage. “But, there’s a lot of stuff that could help us out.”

“Us?” Imra points out.

“Yeah. I mean, you didn’t think I’d just say sorry can’t help and leave you alone.” 

Imra quietly smiles at that. 

“So what’s the plan now? Besides waiting for you two to hitchhike a ride back to your era, where do we go from here?”

She looks to Reep before back to him, a little more resolved. “If we want even a surviving chance of keeping up with-“ She pauses herself, looking to Bart. “If we want a surviving chance, we need to be able to travel the galaxy as fast as possible, to keep up with our enemy’s sphere teleportation. Our next stop is New Genesis, thats where he will definitely be.” 

“Who?”

The two remain tight lipped. 

“Why New Genesis, when do you need to be there by?” 

“Now if possible.”

“Well, Vic’s never been to New Genesis so he can’t boom-tube there but I'm sure Violet could open a-“

“That’s a negative. We can’t be involving any other of the heroes besides you.”

He widens his eyes. “You can’t be serious? They’re our current best bet-“

“No, Bart. You said it yourself, 99%. We don’t have any other possibility of returning home otherwise. We need to be able to go back, involving you- We are already pushing our luck. We can’t afford anyone else at this point.”

“Look, people don’t travel back in time and get stranded for no reason. You mentioned inter-galactic disaster and Conner’s death. Whoever you’re after is obviously bad news. We need as much help as we can get here.”

“No, there has to be another way. We just- we just can’t. I’m sorry, our situation isn’t like yours. We need to restore our original timeline, our home, what you did for yours, completely changing it, it just doesn't apply here.”

Exasperated, he persists. “Imra I understand how insane it feels but I really don't-“

“No." She raises her voice. "This isn't your call to make Bart. Either you’re with us or you’re not. This is our choice, our call and we need to know that we can trust you with this, if not-“ She looks devastated at her own words, realising the possibility of severing their last life line. “If not, I will have to wipe your mind of us and we will find some other way, I really don’t know how, but we won’t have any other choice.”

He can’t have that.

Not until the runner figures out what’s really going on. One wrong move from these two, and he’ll have the benefit of warning the team in advance. Leverage.

But if not, then he’s ultimately just helping a couple of lost people in need. And isn’t that part of his job description? What he’s supposed to do.

There’s only one right thing for him to do here really.

“Okay, fine. Say I’m in. It's not like we can just jump in to the Javelin without raising any alarms.” Bart offers a hand to Imra as he stands himself up. 

Relief doesn’t even begin to describe the pure gratitude she looks at him with. 

Surviving the test of time, as an anomaly, it can be an isolating experience. Coupling this with being stuck here against your own will, well Bart imagines it’s not the easiest thing out there.

Imra takes his hand.

With a renewed sense of purpose, the blonde speaks with authority. “We will need something more discreet and if possible, faster. The Javelin is really no match against the sphere.”

Bart purses his lips in thought, glancing back to their own sphere.

“Look, I can salvage what I can and figure something out for you but- alien tech of the present or next 50 years, sure that’s fine. But 31st century? It’ll take me some time to crack, let alone make something out of it.”

Reep adds in the background. “And you’ll have your Kid Flash responsibilities too, -and civilian.”

“Yeah but they’ll take back seat obvs. You said you need to get to New Genesis ASAP.”

Imra explains. “It’s not ideal but… we do have the benefit of time with this one. Even with the time-sphere, it will take him a while to find- I mean. We have some leeway. And we can’t afford anyone to get suspicious, no one Bart. We need that trip back home.”

“To the point that you’re willing to delay things like this?” Bart counters, incredulous.

“I’m serious, our return is at stake here. If you’re not-” 

“No, no.”  He re-confirms strongly, frustration taking a back seat. “I’m in. I told you, I’ll help.”

Holding his eyes, Imra nods at him firmly. It’s weighted.

Looks like they have a deal. 

After the monster-truck rally, Bart ran back the Legion’s loft to finalise parts of his prototype. He’s been having a lot of fun with his treadmill’s design, taking a lot of liberty with its features. 

Who wouldn’t make the most of working with technology from a thousand years in the future after all.

He’s added a module that could take speeds well beyond what the treadmill actually needs for inter-galactic travel. A module, that with certain tech that just doesn’t currently exist on earth, he’s checked, could maybe do exactly what the Legion needs it to do. Maybe he’ll get lucky in space and find exactly what he needs and grab some stuff for himself along the way. After all, why limit his scavenging just to Earth. 

He hasn’t bothered to explain to the Legion everything about the treadmill’s functionality, but it’s not like he really has to. He doesn’t want to make false promises after all.

Bart is sat on the balcony of the loft, on the floor, leaning against the railing. Looking out into the evening sky, the bustling lights of the city make a pretty sight. A nice distraction from the numbers he’s been speeding through in his head that simply don’t add up. He’s used to simulating things on Reach tech back in the day, something he’d never thought he’d miss the practicality of.

He ignores the slide of the terrace door. 

Imra joins him by the railing, dangling her legs off the edge. She looks at him softly. “Hey, you alright?”

“Nice view isn’t it. You guys sure found a good place to set up camp.” He responds, gaze still fixed to the city.

“Reep loves human culture. He kept insisting that we stay somewhere like this. And you wouldn’t believe how much abandoned property there is, we had a lot of options.” 

He snorts, finally looking to her. “Raging homelessness and endlessly available empty property? Tracks.”

“Earth is a weird planet, no offence.”

“Well you’re not wrong.” He starts doodling beside his calculations. “Where’s number 2?”

“He’s keeping guard at the lab. S.T.A.R Labs Austin to be exact, secured a workspace just for us to grow Bio-ship’s skin for the cosmic treadmill. According to the staff there, we are Haydn Crocksworth and Terry Gills, both working on a top secret project for the government.” She taps her head with a smirk.

Amused, he says. “So you mean, just one top secret project among their thousands.”

“Exactly, the perfect cover. Blending right in.” She happily confirms, before continuing. “Isn’t it getting a little late? Shouldn’t you be back home by now?” 

With a hurt grin, gaze still fixed to the gibberish he’s sketching, he responds. “That won’t be a concern for us.”  At her confused look, he says. “Staying with Ed for the week. Or two. Who knows.”

“Oh…” Is all she says, unsure.

“Yeah, oh.”  

They both just sit there. The life of the city filling the silence. 

“You want to- do you want to talk about it?” She tries.

“Honestly, the only thing I really want to talk about is New Genesis Imra. So? You gonna tell me?” 

Of course, her lips are sealed. 

"Yeah, I didn't think so." It’s just really funny to him at this point. “You do realise this makes no sense. I’m literally running you guys there and what- I’m going to close my eyes whenever something future-related happens. You’ve told me about your home, your people. I think it’s long overdue by now.”

She confesses. “It’s psychological more than anything. You’re right, you’re in too deep at this point. But us having this, keeping it from you. It’s like I can delude myself into thinking I still have some semblance of authority, of control over this situation. Otherwise- I just don’t know anymore Bart. We’ve lost too many people. We’re so far from our time. I don’t know- I just want to go back home.”

“Right. Home.” He says dryly. And with that, it ends. He folds up his papers. “Well, there’s no time like the present. Want to grab some ice cream? I know a place that spoiler, doesn’t rhyme with Gibbo’s.” 

Standing herself up, Imra offers the runner her hand. “Sure.” She grins softly, their surrounding loaded with unspoken gratitude and understanding.

As frustrating as everything is, Bart respects her authority. He respects the Legion’s wishes, and respects that it’s simply not his call to make. 

Yet at the same time, he’s going to get what he wants regardless. 

That’s just how things are.

Chapter Text

“Give me 20 and I’ll be there Noble. Yeah, I will. Don’t worry.” Raquel says as she holds her phone between her shoulder and cheek, rifling through her bag in search of her car keys. 

This is why she prefers taking the subway.

Dressed back in her civvies and fresh from the showers, she’s on her way to leave the Watchtower to pick her kid up from his father. It’s finally her part of the custodial week and she’s missed her little love. Even a day feels too long. 

But it’s not like she has the time. If anything, the co-parenting situation they have going on is incredibly ideal for her. She’s still fully committed to her job, to the League. Committed to Icon. They’ve got each other's backs like that, and if that means long hours in the drab office with Augustus, just so that they can keep doing their thing of keeping the streets safe in their own time, then so be it. 

Safe streets mean a safe home for her baby.

“Oh, I’m on speaker? Amistad honey, mommy will be there soon okay?”

“Okay.”

She smiles softly upon hearing his voice. She tries. “Love you sweetheart.”  

As expected, all she hears back is a shuffle of the phone and a “He loves you too Raquel. Just drive carefully.” 

Her eyes drop slightly and she sighs. Of course she knows her kid loves her, it would just be nice to- “Yeah, yeah. I heard you the first time, don’t worry, I just need to find my stupid-“

A jingle of metal catches her attention. Turning, she catches Jay from across the vast hall of the Watchtower who’s found in his own civvies, seemingly waiting for her. 

Tension deflates and she hangs her phone up, about to hurry to the older man. 

Of course, the Flash speeds towards her. With a trusted grin, he hands the keys over to her. “You left them in the conference hall kid.”

Incredibly relieved, she looks to him with a flustered smile. “Thanks Jay. Can you believe me when I say things like this can drive someone up the wall? You just saved me from a whole lot of a stress.”

The speedster huffs back a laugh a little too strongly. “I believe you alright. Things can just- pile up like that.”  

Looking to her keys, she shakes her head in disappointment, telling herself off. “Noble keeps pestering me to tag my stuff so I can track them. Then I think to myself, hey if I can keep my damn Inertia Belt safe, then I sure as hell can take care of a pair of keys.” She shares with a slump in her shoulders.

The man stands tall in his civvies, but nothing could ever make him appear imposing, Raquel thinks to herself. She prides herself in her open mindedness, after all, she would’ve never been who she is if that weren’t the case. But she’s also quick to judge, a habit formed out of self preservation. Caution. It’s human instinct after all. Despite that, she’s gotten to know Jay from the frequent get togethers Iris hosts with all the families of the League, and nothing’s ever told her that the man is someone to second guess over. His sincerity, he must have been born with it. 

She was stoked to hear that he was going to be joining her diplomacy mission to New Genesis. Traveling together to space to broker an intergalactic deal? It’s historic.

And with how the mission-prep has been going, she’s been feeling much more at ease having someone like him on the team. She appreciates the stability he brings to the room. 

It’s a low risk mission, but of high importance. 

She just needs it to go well.

Blue genuine eyes look to assure her. “I understand, Bart’s been on my case about tagging my wallet too. I always just tell him, 'well that’s simply just another way of calling me old.'” He responds, grin not quite reaching his eyes, however.

Having spent the past few weeks with the older hero, she’s noticed the slouch in his frame as of late, the frown that has been making itself recurrently frequent on his face.

It’s none of her business though really, sometimes the best way to help someone is to give them their own space and time. 

She laughs with him. “Yeah…” She can’t help herself though, adding. “It’s just- really hard sometimes, you know?”

With tight lipped understanding, Jay nods, and says with a somber voice. “I do.” 

Something tells her that they could have a good heart to heart with one an other, but duty calls. “Thanks again Jay. I’ll see you on Thursday?” 

“You’ve got it Leaguer.” He confirms with his classic smile. “Have a lovely evening, say hi to Amistad from me.”

And they part ways, the voice of the zeta-tube announcing Raquel’s departure.  

Suddenly, Jay is alone again. 

It’s evening right now over in Central. He would usually make a beeline back to the comfort of his home, back to Bart.

The runner’s not proud of it, but he’s been increasingly cooped up in his house as of late, waiting day by day, hour by hour, at the off chance that the kid would have returned by now.

He hasn’t. 

Jay doesn’t know what unseeing force has been keeping him from reaching out to Bart directly, bringing him back home himself. But it’s there- that barrier. He just can’t break past it.

In his waiting, the very place that Jay has associated with solace throughout his marriage- his life, has increasingly grown into a source of dread. 

And just the mere thought of this- it makes the man feel a great weight of shame. How could the sanctity of his family home become something so twisted, burdened.

But there’s no other way of describing the way the silence eats at him, the expanse of the empty spaces haunting him, amplified by the lingering traces of what is so characteristically Joan’s touch, in every nook and cranny of his life.

The fall out has revealed a lot of things, and most of all, Jay’s own short comings. 

Bart watching TV with him, dozing off on him, eating breakfast, lunch and dinner together, brushing his teeth or washing up whilst Jay is still downstairs doing the dishes, them cooking for one another, living together, just the two of them, after Joan’s passing.

Drowning in the stillness of his home for the past week has been a nightmare, and the steady realisation that the lifeboat keeping him afloat all this time could be so fragile, to lose Bart in any way, to lose their relationship. 

God- joining the League was supposed to distract the runner from the whispers of mourning the love of his life. Not increase them by a ten-fold by unearthing things that Jay has yet to process. 

He has to go home though. As much as he dreads the vacuum of loneliness and hurt, he has to. It’s evening, maybe the kid is finally willing to give him a chance again. Just the off-chance of-

A hand to his shoulder catches him off guard. Looking to the offender, he finds a soft but firm expression.

“I thought you would’ve learnt your way round by now?”

“I’m sorry Dinah, I was just-”

“Caught up in your head? Yes, I can see that.” Her smile falls a bit. “Is everything alright? If you’re having second thoughts-“

Jay panics. “Oh no. No, no, not at all. Everything’s been going great here. ” 

Reassured, she stands a little more relaxed. “That’s good to hear.” But nothing can escape her really. “So, it’s personal then?”

On guard, he crosses his arms. “Are we in the Watchtower or your flower shop?”

Dinah takes a step back to give him some space. “Well, I’m asking as a friend. But of course as a Leaguer who has a space that is always open for this exact-”

He cuts her off, it’s not the first time she’s offered him her counselling. “I appreciate the offer Dinah, really. But, you have enough on your plate as it is and honestly, everything is…” He trails off, the unspoken remaining as such.

She looks at him, face passive, but not without its patient concern. 

It goads him to try to find his bearings again. “-everything is fine.” He repeats with resolution, nodding to convince himself that his words bare some truth to them.

But then- he can’t help it, he just has to ask.

“Have you by any chance heard anything on Bart? Maybe M’gann has noticed a thing or two, anything- anything at all?” He asks with restrained urgency, taking advantage of his own habitually soft tone to play things cool. Well, at least attempt to. 

The older hero doesn’t know what to make of her genuine surprise. “Bart? Oh, uh.” The blonde responds, clearly searching for anything worth mentioning. 

There really isn’t. 

Apologetically, she says with honesty. “Nothing’s crossing my mind. She’s told me that the Outsiders have generally been doing pretty well, all things considered. Nothing has come up in the sessions at the meta-youth centre with the regular kids.” Noticing that it was obviously not the response Jay was looking for, she tries, adding on. “I regularly see him around the centre helping out and he’s the same as always. Is there anything that I should pass on to M’gann or Dan? Or be keeping an eye out for?”

“I-“ He sighs deeply, disappointed, but unknowing of what type of answer he was actually searching for. No news is good news after all. “Honestly I really don’t know anymore Dinah. I have to confess, I think I’m a little out of my depths here.”

The older hero didn’t even need to elaborate. Dinah has an eye for these things. “I understand, being a single-parent is never an easy task for anyone Jay.” 

He’s caught off guard. “A single-parent?” 

She nods. “You’re currently his only guardian, are you not?”

He shakes his head with a laugh. “Dinah, I- well. With Barry and Iris around, it feels very disingenuous to view myself as such.”

As the poster couple for found family, the Garricks knew more than anyone that blood is the least of requirements for what truly constitutes a family. 

Rationally, he knows that as a fact. At this point, it’s a part of his being, his identity. It’s the reason why Bart is without even a slither of a doubt his kid. 

Despite Jay’s years of forming irreplaceable bonds with people from all walks of life, Joan and him had never had a bond quite like this with anyone. And even with his advanced age, he’s not immune to the new insecurities that rise with new experiences.  

In spite of the wisdom of every bone in his body telling him otherwise, Bart has blood relatives. Younger, stronger, better. It would be so easy to replace the older man. 

Joan isn’t here to remind him of how absurd that very thought is in the first place. 

But his own complexes aside, the bigger problem is the one thing he has come to realise with the recent events. Bart doesn’t even need a guardian. Doesn’t need him.

Because truly, where the hell has the child been for the past few days? Jay has been keeping tabs on him through Eduardo Sr, kindly informing him every night on his whereabouts. But beyond that? 

What about the past months’ worth of moments that Jay doesn’t even know of. Heck, maybe even years! 

Sure, he’s aware that the kid has his routine with the Outsiders, friends, school, side-kicking with Barry, taking care of the twins. He has so much going on, Jay rarely keeps up with it beyond what Bart is constantly without fail always so excited to share about his day back at home with him. 

And all this time, it just, worked. Because of that element of trust. Trust between him and Bart, guardian and kid.

But really, that’s just something Jay must have been deluding himself over. As though he hasn’t just fallen under the illusion of 'guardian providing the necessary source of dependence' that any child would supposedly need, as though it weren’t a one way thing all along.

And as the kid would say, spoiler. It couldn’t be more embarrassingly obvious exactly who the dependent one is in reality.

Bart has lived 13 years of his life having gone through God knows what, and from the alarmingly little information Jay has had to go by from that time, it’s pretty easy to deduce that he hasn’t exactly had the most stable upbringing. An understatement to say the least. After all, Bart willingly left his timeline for a one way trip, with no possibility of return.

That alone, it’s a deafening notion, about the kind of life that was left behind. To reach that point of no return, of having nothing to lose, what does it take?

Well, the old runner wouldn’t know. And that- that just makes it all the more worse. In what world is it anywhere near remotely acceptable for Jay, the guardian, to barely know anything about Bart’s childhood at all? Is he really doing too much by going crazy over this? Is he being excessive? Isn’t it normal, to want to know everything about your loved one? 

At this point, Jay has lost track of what can be considered normal.

He’d never thought himself to be someone so tethered to the concept of normality. Especially with the unconventionality that is the very essence of his life, that comes with the job of being a hero. Jay has seen and experienced unimaginable things. But he realises that with Joan and Bart, he dared to feel that they really were a normal family. 

Bart goes to school- Joan and Jay love and care for him deeply. Bart has, well, extracurriculars- Joan and Jay will always be there for him regardless. Bart has extended family- Joan and Jay have been a part of that extended family all along too.  

This routine of playing house blurred the fact that the way the young runner came into their lives in the first place, even by the standards of the long and incredible life Jay has lived, was very much not conventional at all.

And the remnants reminding Jay of the kid’s past were unbelievably rare. The slip-ups and confessions that make up the man’s scattered and incomplete picture of Bart’s childhood can be counted on one hand alone, and that includes the smallest of things, like Bart calling the Tornados dad and aunt Dawn. 

Then there was that horrific moment at the dentists.

The dissonance between objectively recognising that Bart being a refugee from a post-apocalyptic world was the driving force behind everything, the reason why he’s someone that had to be taken in in the first place, and the sheer stability that was the three of them simply being a family. Jay has never felt it as strongly as he has in the past few days. 

Because previously, at every notion of discord that would’ve riled the older up with worry over Bart, Joan had always assured him that regardless of whatever’s going on, it didn’t really matter. All the kid ultimately needed from them was an unconditionally supportive, warm and loving home, and as long as they were together, everything would be okay.

And combining that with how Bart so effortlessly ingrained himself right into their hearts, well it was so easy to fall under that spell. 

Any notion of the young speedster being foreign to this time more often than not served as an endearing gimmick, rather than a testament to anything so morbid as the truth of his world. 

It’s almost infuriating, to the point that it hurts the old runner. How doesn’t Bart need to get all this off his chest? His truth, doesn’t he have it all trapped inside him?

With the loss of Joan, Jay bares an unbelievable black hole that eats at his heart. A growing pain, without end. If he kept his truth under wraps like that, he feels like he would simply just, collapse within himself, and die. 

The sad eyes he’s faced with ground him back to reality. He realises, they reflect his very own miserable state. Dinah reaches out with a gentle touch to his arm.

“Oh Jay…” She worries.

-

A few hours pass.

-

There’s a bar over in Blue Valley. 

Smacking a few greens onto the sticky wood of the booth found at the side of the dimly lit bar, a middle-aged man with ratty brown hair and kind eyes, complimented by the crows feet of a fulfilled life and an amicable smile, stands to bid his friend good night, who in response complains at his departure. 

“Oh come on Dugan, only three beers? You pregnant or something? Are congratulations in order?”

Pat simply sighs back his laugh with a shake of his head, in a joyful mood of entertaining Zeek’s nonsense for a change. “How’d you guess? I’m expecting a loving wife, with a 9 to 5 stable job and two kids.” 

Throwing back the remaining drops of beer, the junk-yard mechanic grabs a handful of nuts. “Oh yeah? Very cute, come back to me when you’ve danced on the beaches of Monaco with the Duchess of Liechtenstein. Then we’ll talk.” 

“You’ve got to get a new story Zeek, there’s only so many times you can use that one before it loses it’s charm.” 

“Legends never die Dugan, and that’s a true story.” The man retorts, flakes of the nuts and seeds piling themselves up on his grey beard. “Like look at that guy over there- shit, now that’s a legend in the making.” He points out, in genuine awe. “He’s downing them like crazy!”

Following his line of sight, eyes widen as Pat spots a familiar face, followed by a large collection of empty glasses and bottles. Walking to greet his old friend over by the bar counter, he leaves Zeek confused.

“Hey- wait up. Pat!” The grey haired man scrambles to follow, grabbing his cap back on.

Piling his scrunched up jacket on the bar stool between them, Pat sits himself to face the runner. “Now hold your horses there Jay, what’s the occasion?” 

Putting out his cigarette, Jay empties the remaining content of the bottle of rum, before shaking the glass at the bartender to sign for another. He finally faces his friend, expression worn out, but happy to see a familiar face. “Pat, it’s been too long.” He says affectionately with tired humor. 

“Way too long. Over five months, thats quite the feat. I assume you’ve been busy.” Pat responds with a smile, pleased at their little reunion. He gestures at the bartender for a beer.

The older man snorts lightly, eyes glancing to the cedar wood of the countertop. “Something like that.”

Noticing the strange mood his friend is in, Pat spares him a good look. With the weighted spread of legs of how he’s sat, the heavy hunch of his shoulders, there’s a sense of defeat to him, of resignation.  

Typically standing tall with a gentle sense of pride, the runner is uncharacteristically holding his head up by his hand, the only thing keeping him up before succumbing to whatever seems to be haunting him.

“Hey-“

“What’s this Pat, you mean to tell me you know this living legend and don’t even have a drop of decency to introduce us?”

Thin lips pressed into line, Pat looks to his friend, unimpressed at the interruption. “Where are my manners.” He jeers sarcastically. Nonetheless. “Zeek, Jay Garrick. Jay, Zeek. He’s a mechanic, owns a junkyard. He’s helped me out a lot with maintaining S.T.R.I.P.E.”

With a small nod to the bearded man, Jay offers his hand. “Pleasure’s all mine. Wouldn’t expect Pat to leave S.T.R.I.P.E in the capable hands of anyone other than the best.”

Enthusiastically shaking the hand, Zeek’s eyes start to widen in realisation. “Holy cow- you. You’re motherfucking Jay Garrick, as in-“

“What- why else would you call him a living legend Zeek?” Pat points out, incredulous. 

Pitched, in shock, Zeek quietly yells back, not letting go of their handshake. “Have you seen the number of drinks he’s knocked back? It’s giving Boggs a run for his money!” 

Pat scans the collection of drinks that have gathered beside the runner. He’s clearly drinking something away, which for Jay- It’s concerning. 

“Jerry, put these two on my tab will you.” The hero tells the bartender. 

“Of course Jay.” The man responds, sliding over Pat’s beer and taking the other’s order. 

Handing over the jacket from the stool back to his friend, Zeek gets comfortable on the seat between the two. 

“So what’s the occasion Flash? Celebrating being the most incredible man in history?”

The hero takes a good swig from the new bottle of rum. “Jesus!” Zeek hollers as slaps the speedster’s back. “We’re watching history in the making!”

Overly missing the type of mood the older man is in, Pat just sighs at his friend as he tries to steer the topic again. “Can’t remember the last time you showed your face around here Jay. You’re probably the only JSA member to frequent this place in the last ten years.” 

Thoughtful as ever, Jay replies. “Now that can’t be true. You’re here after all.”

The runner never fails to give Pat his credit, including him as an equal member of the group at all times. Something that Sylvester never really took note of. Pat was aware of what most of the JSA saw him as, a side-kick. Which, at the end of the day, he was. But Jay always elevated him, saw him as a hero, respected him. 

And whilst “Starman” Sylvester dipped into obscurity, cutting any contact between them and leaving the cosmic-staff behind, the runner in the meantime remained as a good friend to him, and so, the two JSA legacies stayed in touch throughout the decade. And when the two similarly got new additions to their family back in 2016, with Pat becoming Courtney’s step-father and the Garricks fostering Bart. Well, family dinners were only natural.

Amused, Pat looks to his former colleague. “You know what I mean.”

“And you know what I mean.” Jay responds, genuine as always.

“Uh, I dont.” Zeek interjects with a small raise of his hand.

“Pat over here is one of the finest heroes the JSA’s ever had the honour of welcoming. I consider myself lucky to have fought side by side with him, Courtney couldn’t be in any safer hands.”

“Well you say that, but she calls me a helicopter dad. Kids these days, I'll tell yah. Always just saying anything and everything.” Pat says fondly, pouring himself more of his beer. 

With no response from Jay, Zeek chirps in. “You quite literally crashed her sweet sixteen with S.T.R.I.P.E.S in helicopter mode. What do you expect? ” 

“I panicked! Thought some villain stole the staff, not my own daughter!”

Jay laughs at that, not before downing a third of the bottle in one go. Pat frowns.

“So what have you been up to these days Jay?” 

Smacking his lips, he then looks to the two, answering. “I guess you could say I joined the League as the world’s oldest hero.”

The two younger men look to him with surprise. 

“You have?”

“No wonder the man is celebrating, another round!” Zeek hollers.

Pat brings his friend back down, cancelling the order with a wave and a look to the bartender. “That’s incredible Jay. Nelson did always say that you could never truly retire.”

“What can I say, if I see you still kicking around in the suit, well, sue me for also wanting some fun.” The runner jokes.

“Okay, okay. You got me there.” Pat concedes with a grin.

“Whose Nelson?” Zeek asks, grabbing some nuts that he previously stashed away in his coat pocket.

“Doctor Fate of the JSA. He was quite the formidable man.” Jay answers, nodding in emphasis. 

“Always dressed in a suit. Took real good care of himself.” Pat adds.

The older man scans the bar’s collection of drinks they’re faced with, adding, voice deep with heart. “Nelson and his wife Inza. They always dressed to impress, to enjoy life. And when it was his time, he always did say he wanted to look his best for her. They were quite the couple of sweethearts.” 

“What about you Sir?” Zeek asks innocently. “Do you have a sweetheart to call your own?” 

“Of course. My dear Joan. She left me two years ago.” Jay shares, eyes panning to the ring he’s kept close to his heart since forever. He turns it around his finger.

“Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss.” Zeek says quietly, making himself just the slightest bit smaller. 

The runner smiles at him with tight lips, before continuing. “Her father didn’t like me at first, he always had someone more proper in mind for her, to provide her with a good life, a good family.” The new bottle of rum tightens in his grip. “She lived a happy life with me. That- that I can be sure of.” 

Pat and Zeek can’t bring themselves to break the intermission of weighted silence. 

“In terms of family. After a while, you really learn that it can mean a lot of things. We really did end up having a big family, and in her final two years. I don’t think I had ever seen her happier. To have her still around, by my side, to see her endlessly happy, there’s just no comparison. I miss her so much.” He finishes, tone stunted with hurt. And just like that, he empties the remaining half of the bottle, numbing down the pain. 

Zeek looks to Pat from the corner of his eyes, sharing the same concern. Voice raspy, either because of the burn of the drink or out of melancholy, Jay continues. “No matter what slump I’d find myself in, no matter the hardship. I could always trust that I could get through anything with her by my side.”

Pat quietly frowns at the sense of loss that Jay is clearly still going through. Just the thought of anything happening to Barbara, he can’t even begin to imagine the pain. He notices his own tense hold of his glass.

Expressing his thanks to the bartender for a new bottle of whiskey, Jay fills the silence with a defeated smile as he pours the other two a glass each. “She’d hate to see me like this. Let’s cheer to our loved ones.”

The two younger men immediately accept the drinks, raising them for a toast.

Jay gulps down a few mouthfuls straight from the bottle, the other two cringing as he does.

A little intimidated and unsure whether to match his pace or not, they down the drink too.

Which turns out to be their biggest regret of the night. Zeek’s eyes bulge out as he tries to play cool at the choking burn of the drops of liquid trying their hardest to go down his throat. Pat just completely coughs out the drink to his side, in a poor attempt of hiding his struggle. 

“How’re the kids doing Pat? Finally managed to get Mike running the paper route this summer?” Jay asks in the meantime, either ignorant to his friend’s plight or respectfully moving past it. 

Regaining his footing with a final cough to his hand and a sip of his beer, Pat sits back upright, clearing his throat. “Yeah, no yeah. The boy hates it but he’s gotten a few friends to join, enough to distract him from wanting to join the Outsiders for now at the very least. All in all, I’d say he’s been enjoying his summer a little too much.”

The runner asks with mirth. “What is it, sophomore year right?”

“That’s right.” Pat confirms with a smile. “Turning the big one-six next year.”

Zeek adds, excited. “The little man has quite the knack for mechanics, you gonna let him officially work for me part time?” 

“Oh? An engineer in the making, just like his father?” Jay adds.

“No.” Pat responds firmly. “Engineer, sure. But not with you Zeek, I don’t want a repeated attempt of S.T.R.I.P.E.S 2.0. He needs to focus on school.”

“Ey, Pat. Let the kid have his fun, can’t blame him for wanting to upgrade from Court’s cameraman to having his own slice of that superstar Outsider gig. He sees a bunch of hero-kids prancing around with his sister, of course he wants in.”

Looking down to his abandoned glass of whiskey, Pat lets his head hang. “I know. But he doesn’t realise that Court is not only two years older than him, she also has the cosmic-staff by her side. I’d never let her even consider joining the Outsiders without it. He thinks I’m just being mean to him on purpose.”

“Mike’s a smart kid with a good heart. If he doesn’t understand now, he will eventually.” Jay consoles. 

Brows furrow as Pat can’t help but share. “Yes but- It’s not just that. When he helped set up ‘Stargirl’ for her video gig, he loved being a part of something with her. Now, every time he sees her on broadcast with the Outsiders, he feels like he’s missing out. And when she’s hurt, he can’t help but feel frustrated that he’s not doing his part. And well, I get it, I really do. That’s why it makes it all the more harder to say no to him. Because I understand him all too well.“ 

Zeek points out. “Then why don’t you give the boy a shot to prove himself to you?”

“Because he doesn’t have to in the first place. I know what he’s capable of. I just wish he could recognise that.”

Jay says. “With you as his dad, he will. You and Barb have a couple of good kids Pat, have some faith in them.”

“Hey, cheers to that!” Zeke decides to celebrate, excited, beckoning the bartender to fill up their glasses with more whiskey. 

Yanking his friend to the side, Pat panics. “What are you doing?” 

“Celebrating the occasion!” The junk-yard mechanic whispers back.

“I’m not downing that paint thinner again!” Pat seethes.

“Come on! It’s not everyday we can celebrate with an original American All-Star, just let me have this!” 

Refilled, the two men hold their glasses up to a cheers with Jay’s own bottle. 

Pat holds back his grimace, eyeing the liquid poison in dread. 

As the two men once again struggle to even sip their drink, Jay drinks his whiskey to completion, adding it to his growing collection of empty bottles. 

Giving up and deciding to toss the unfinished liquid behind him, Pat squints as he tries to swallow down the few sips he dared to take.

Zeke’s doing a good job at pretending as though his throat didn’t momentarily dissolve. Not one to have many inhibitions in the first place, the booze doesn’t do him any favours. With a wheeze, he turns to the runner. “So are the rumours true sir? Is the current Flash your son?”

Jay humours him with a snort. “Maybe in another world, who knows. Not this one, I can tell you that much.” And by habit, he slips out his phone and taps open a chat between him and Bart, scrolling the gallery to find a recent picture. 

A selfie of him with Traci suddenly magnifies on to the screen. Time slows, gaze lingering on the sight of the young runner. 

In the speedster's stunted silence, Pat speaks up as he spots the picture. “Been a while since I last saw him in person. How’s he doing?”

Zeke motions to ask for the phone, to get a better look.

Finally, Jay responds, handing it over. “He’s… he’s fine.” It takes everything in him to look over and muster up a friendly smile in response. “Senior year soon, am I right?”

“God don’t remind me, another year of craziness.” Pat rubs his eyes in dread, before grinning affectionately. “Time flies though. They’re growing up too quickly.” 

“This your kid?” Zeek asks, pointing to the screen.

“Hm. Bart, he’s our ward.” 

The younger men remain silent at the slip up. 

“Ward? Like a foster kid?”

“Not quite. I’m his legal guardian.”

Nodding in understanding, Zeek looks back to the picture. Bart is seen with his arm around Traci, the two smiling broad and wide, cheek to cheek. “Quite the looker this fella, they make a gorgeous couple.”

Softly, Jay smiles. “That’s Traci. She’s just a good friend of his. A very sweet girl.”

The mechanic hands back the phone. “Having the original Flash as his guardian, I imagine he must be quite popular at school.”

“He doesn’t really advertise it much. Barry- his uncle, wants him to keep it under wraps.”

Surprised, Zeek asks. “His uncle? If you don’t mind my asking, why’s the kid not with him instead of you?”

At this stage of his life, Jay has grown rather fond of people who simply speak their mind, always straight to the point. It saves a lot of hassle, regardless of their tendency to overstep.

“Barry’s got his arms full with two young kids of his own. Joan and I had the spare room, time, and space. It just worked out like that in the end.” 

Pat adds with affectionate nostalgia. “It was quite the coincidence, Bart joining you and Joan the same year Court and Barbara joined me and Mike, wasn’t it Jay?”

“Indeed. 2016, the start of new beginnings. Made for lovely family gatherings.” Jay mentions with a raise of his newly acquired bottle of vodka.

“You know, Barb and I’ve been planning a back to school barbecue for the kids. You and Bart are more than welcome to join us.”

"Sounds fun. When would it be?"

"Around early September? Let's say, the 3rd?"

Looking back to the wall of bottles that grace the background of the bar, Jay notes that he would've returned from his mission from New Genesis by then, and answers mutedly. “We’ll be there.”

Pat suspects the one, two, three… eighteen, nineteen- he gives up the count. The many bottles of liquor are finally catching up to the speedster.

The four beers and mixed in drizzle of whiskey also seem to be getting to his own head, Pat notes. With no meta-gene to help him out, he feels like he’s getting too old for this. 

Turning, Jay attempts to continue maintaining eye contact with the other two. “So Barb’s having a precious night to herself? Or- don’t tell me you left the kids with her.” He teases.

With a snort, Pat responds. “Court’s at her friend’s party and Mike’s at what he likes to call, “a boys night”. Between us three, it’s a sleepover though really, don’t let him know I said that. Barb’s back at her folks’ place for a bit, so have the night to myself.”

“Enjoying the summer peace before falling back into routine, is it?” Zeek says with playful eyes. 

“You know it. Before I harass you again over missing parts.” Pat quips back. Finally washing out any remaining traces of the whiskey with his beer, he asks with humour as he swallows. “How about Bart? Out and about as always?”

Before Jay could even attempt to muster up an answer, he simply takes a few swigs of his drink. 

At the lack of response, Zeek darts a questioning look to his friend.

Initial sense of concern returning, Pat asks with worried eyes. “Jay, is everything-“

With a dry chuckle, the runner speaks up, swirling the glass of spirit he poured himself to get lost into. “That’s his thing isn’t it? Always out and about, I mean honestly, who knows where he is right now.”

“Oh? Kid’s acting up? Stealing cars to impress the ladies or somethin’?” Zeek tries. 

“Let me tell you now Zeek, things would be a lot simpler if he were doing that to impress his boyfriend, sure. In fact, I almost wish he was.” He exasperates, shooting back his drink. 

“Jay, Bart’s not in any trouble, is he? Court’s never mentioned anything.”

Finally facing his friend again, the older hero speaks, both face and tone completely worn out. “Pat, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, yes- of course. Anything.” 

“Would you say you know Court as much as you do Mike?” 

“Know Court as much as-“ The man echoes back with a mumble, before answering with a couple nods of finality. “Well, yes- actually yes. I would.”

“About her life from before, about- even though you’ve been with Mike since he was born?”

Pat leans further into the bar, crossing his arms. “Here’s a little story Jay. When we first moved to Blue Valley together to become a family, I won’t lie, from the two previous years of dating her mom, she wasn’t all too impressed with me. Practically hated me- which you know, as step kids do. Back then, she had what she dubbed “monster-braces”, you might recall.”

Zeek pipes up. “Mike’s shown me the pictures, calling them ‘monster’ is a bit of an overkill.”

“It didn’t matter, she despised them. So when Court was scheduled to take them off at the orthodontists a few months later and Barb couldn’t make it, I thought, ‘It’ll be nice to be part of a good memory of her’s for a change’, so I was more than happy to take her. Turned out, she had to keep them on for the rest of the year. She was devastated. ‘Till that point I’d never seen her so miserable.” Pat’s expression falls upon recounting the memory.

But only briefly, after all, the story had a precious ending. “I just couldn’t have that. So I sat her down for the biggest ice cream ever and told her that that day was going to be a good day regardless, no matter what. We went out for a shopping spree- it all sounds very mundane but, she was so excited and happy at the turn of events, glowing, and in those small moments, I figured, that’s my girl. Of course I had the fortune of her obsession with the JSA to bridge our bond, but I know for a fact that being part of those little things in her life, it’s why I am where I am today. And along the way, I really got to know her, she’s truly become my daughter. Without even a second of doubt.” Overcome with fondness, Pat can’t help but spill. “Like how in second grade she won that tree climbing competition, how when she was ten she dreamed of having a pet squirrel, or how regardless of how deadbeat her father truly is, he will always have the privilege of having a place in her precious heart, how she was destined to be Stargirl, that something inside of me just knew so all along. To know what the staff means to her. I don’t need to have known her all her life to say that I truly know her right now, so yes. Yes, I know her, just as any father should.” Pat finally pulls himself out of it by looking back to his older friend, sobering up from the fondness at the miserable sight he’s met with.

Face planted against his palm, Jay just lets his head hang. The bottle of vodka beside him has been drained, and is being replaced by a new bottle of whiskey by the bartender. 

With gentle concern, Pat questions him, brows furrowed. “Jay, why do you ask?” 

Grabbing the open bottle, Jay rises back up to sit straight.

“Hey- sir, maybe you should slow it down a bit-“ Zeke starts to suggest, similarly worrying over the state the hero beside him seems to be struggling in.

Jay slides the bottle a little in his grip, tilting it to take a good look at the drink’s label. A few drops spill over. “Scotch, aged 25 years. 63 percent, not bad huh?” He thinks out loud.

The mechanic’s eyes bulge out at the details. “Shit, that must be a pretty penny!” He exclaims, attempting to catch a glance of the brand. 

The bartender, polishing a glass clean just a foot away from the three speaks up. “A good 600 dollars.”

A little piece within the two younger men shrivels up and dies upon the realisation of what little grace they drank the most expensive alcohol they will probably have ever consumed in their entire lifetime. 

“It’s a very precious drink, Joan bought it for our 65th wedding anniversary. But you know, 25 years. This whiskey is quite the collectable. So we kept it up on display in our living room. One of those things that you save for a special occasion, but it becomes so special, you never use it.” Jay quips with a playful tone, face in contrast remaining somber. 

Zeke adds, once again, completely missing the mood despite his previous concern. “Ah yes, my fifty dollar candles that remain unlit can attest to that.”

Pat looks at him with a raised brow to shut up, he needs to get to the bottom of this. To be even half as good a friend as Jay has been to him all these years.

“You know when Bart first moved in with us in 2016, he really didn’t eat all that much, no matter how much we offered him. Of course, we didn’t pressure him or anything over it, after all he didn’t go to sleep hungry. We just assumed that things might be different for him, as he was born with his metabolism unlike the rest of us.” 

“Metabo-“ Zeek was about to question, before a nudge from Pat quiets him up. 

“Wally, his cousin, ever the suspicious sceptic, just wouldn’t let go. So of course after only a week, he practically interrogated the kid about it over dinner. And Bart? He said he didn’t want to overeat his welcome. Needless to say, everyone- well everyone except Wally- was charmed, and let it slide. Again, we’d offer him more portions, that he shouldn’t be shy, and he’d accept. It was all very cute.” Jay snorts affectionately.

The mechanic in the middle throws a brief glance to his friend, wondering where this was all going.

“Then around midnight, Joan wakes me up to the sound of the bath running. Said she heard him throwing up. Of course I check up on him, he said he just didn’t feel well. Which was- anyway, I walk him back to bed, got him some water, and that’s that, there wasn’t much else I could make of the situation because come the next morning, he was as healthy as ever. Days passed, and his appetite picked up its pace. More and more, approaching Wally levels of food. We were simply relieved that he felt comfortable enough to finally eat ‘till his heart’s content. A couple more days pass, and again, in the middle of the night, I hear something from downstairs.”

Holding the scotch tight in his hands, Jay’s stare is completely fixed to it, Pat notices. “Again, I go to check, ‘kids probably having a midnight snack’, I remember thinking. Well, I wasn’t wrong. Except, he wasn’t in the kitchen.” The runner huffs, eyes wide in disbelief of his own memory. “No, he was in the living room, by the cabinets. Downing this very bottle like there was no tomorrow. By the time I caught him, it was almost empty.”

Incredulously, Zeke whispers to his friend. “How the hell is the kid even alive? Is he a devil child?”

Pat shushes him, asking with shock. “Why would he- what did you do?” 

Taking a shot, Jay lets it burn a bit before he answers. “What else? I couldn’t believe my eyes, sped right up to him and snatched it away. And I remember, he was just confused more than anything. Face free of guilt, of shame. Like I was the one acting up in the situation. Asked him ‘what on earth are you thinking? What are you trying to do?’ And what do I get in response?”

The two younger men patiently wait, transfixed. 

He continues in disbelief. “All he said was that he was really hungry. That’s it.”

The junk-yard mechanic’s curiosity can’t help itself. “Whiskey to kill hunger? More like his guts, was he being serious?”

“He couldn’t have been more serious. And I realised, he truly didn’t recognise what was wrong with the situation. I asked him about the pantry, why didn’t he just eat something from there. Sheepishly, of all things, he told me he was craving alcohol, in the future- I mean, that he used to drink it regularly to keep his appetite at bay, that it was a thing that everyone did, where he was from.”

The two remained silent, unsure of what to think, what to say. 

“I know.” He shares their shock. “I just- told him to never do that again, that alcohol wasn’t a kid’s drink, and definitely not a meal. I was so- I had no idea what to even think about it. So I just made him a PB&J and sent him off to bed. It kept me up at night, what could possibly justify something like that being normal? With his background, I tried to keep an open mind, but some things, they just don’t make any sense, right?”

Zeke and Pat didn’t quite understand what the man meant, but they nod for him to continue his story.

“But before I could get caught up on it, Bart- well it’s as if that night never happened in the first place. And you know, moving a kid in, it takes a while even for a speedster like me. Getting him registered literally everywhere, getting him into school and preparing for it, sorting out all of his paperwork still, there was just so much to preoccupy me, even from something so insane. And he himself was more concerned about having to enrol in the first place- he hated school so much at first.” Jay recalls affectionately as an afterthought. “So that night ended up becoming a one-off instance of the past. I mean- he never did it again. Like it truly seemed like some cultural faux pas, nothing else. But beyond his eating habits, lack of awareness, drinking scotch like it was a carton of juice, there were other things. Like, Barry and Wally would tell us that Bart would get incredibly overwhelmed at the mall, or how he was incapable of sleeping in his bed at first, we kept finding him on the floor. I was suspicious, Barry was suspicious, Wally was extremely suspicious.”

Pat frowns at the direction of the story. He really doesn’t know where it’s all leading, but he doesn’t have a good feeling, especially with the resignation the hero looks to the bar countertop with as he talks, head back in his hand, grey hair a ruffled mess from the repeated gesture.

“But you see the thing with Bart is, he just doesn’t allow your doubts to settle. I don’t know how else to explain it, but it's like he hand waves them away like they’re nothing, and you can be as stubborn as you want but eventually, you just feel a bit ridiculous focusing on something that he’s long moved past from. At the core of things, we knew something was wrong. But the extent- we could’ve never imagined just how wrong things were for him. We never put the two and two together, not until it all came crashing down after over a month since moving in with us. Some things came to light, things that-”

Jay stops himself with furrowed eyes and lips, rubbing his face in an attempt to collect himself as he grows more and more distraught.

With a heavy sigh he continues. “You see, as a hero, you really get to see the ugly nature of the world, of people. The atrocities, the true extent of what constitutes as inhumane. And being from my generation, well I really have seen all too much of what is out there. Yet despite that, nothing could’ve prepared us for what Wally had to say that night. About Bart’s past, the world he grew up in. What brought him to us in the first place. I was just- Joan and I were in shock. And Bart? He was fast asleep already. As if it were just any other night. He didn’t even think to tell us about what the others had found out about him that day. We had to sit him down the next morning, to force him to have the talk and remind him that this was his home now, that he should feel comfortable enough to just, be. To be himself, to be honest, to recognise that we wanted to offer him the safest of places for him to grow and thrive. At the time, we thought, or more like hoped, that our words were getting to him. That he understood where we were coming from, what we meant. But now that I look back to it, all I see is him sitting there like we were reprimanding him, as if, he were hearing something else entirely. What exactly, only God knows.”

Pat was vaguely aware of some of the details regarding Bart's sudden appearance in the Garrick's lives. That he was supposedly the grandson of Barry. As much as it may pain Court to confess, the two kids are indeed friends, and she's added some details of her own too about the boy. But he wasn't really aware of how grim things seem to have been for him, or what Jay was alluding to. All he does know is, something was really  wrong.

Watching the sad state of the runner, Pat notices that even Zeek is frowning in empathy for the man.

“You see, after finding out about the truth of his past, Wally finally warmed up to the kid. Barry was devastated, and I? I didn’t know what to do. Of course- of course Joan did, she always does. Reminded me that all he needed was a home and some love. The Lea- I mean, you see, the social workers mandated that he undergo a complete physical and psychological evaluation, which, you know, we were going to do anyway. Because before that night, they didn’t know about his background either. So we just had to be sure, to not let anything slip through the cracks again. To have the ability to do right by him. Appointment after appointment, day after day, a full check in with doctors, dentist, a clinical psychologist, and multiple follow ups with a therapist. And you know what all that lead to?”

Incredulously, Jay shakes his head. “Absolutely nothing. He was in pristine condition, not a single scar, not a single scratch. Beyond some issues with attention that we were already familiar with from his school, therapy was considered redundant. Session after session, Dinah concluded that he was well adjusted enough, doing completely fine. Of course, at the time we were so relieved! We thought we could finally be confident in our abilities of giving him the right care, certified by health professionals. Sure, some things were a little odd with him, but that’s just how people, kids, are. Then Wally had passed- and it was all just, a lot. So thinking that maybe his past wasn’t as bad for him as we might’ve feared, I got comfortable in my own sorry excuse of consolation. I mean, I just didn’t know what else to think. To do.” 

“Because a year had then gone by, and he was 14. We were confident that Bart had taken what we said to heart, that he truly felt at home with us, as part of our family. He’d pretty much fully adjusted by then too, even started looking forward to going to school to see his classmates. His biggest concern at the time were his English assignments.” Jay chuckles. “The end of spring came around and it was time again for his annual dental check up. Bart hated the first appointment from 2016, but with the promise of candy at the end, well he was- is a child. It was revolutionary to him at the time, 'Dentists are so crash'.” Jay thinks back to that single moment warmly.

Which then unfolded into something else entirely.

-

It was 2017. Central City, always bright and bustling with life mid-spring. Bart was over the moon at the fact that he got to ditch history for a dentist appointment. A matter of the lesser of two evils. One even promised him candy! 

Eat my pants Mr Bromson, the young runner thought to himself smugly.

Last year, well his nerves were thoroughly wracked at the prospect of the dentist pointing out the very thing that Bart would rather not get into. When he had first properly started preparing for his trip to the past, Nathaniel kept reminding him of his blessings, 'thank the heavens for your healing factor. Helps sell the story.'  Which he wasn't wrong about. When Bart first officially joined the Team, Mal and some of the other supervising members of the Team and League had to vet him with protocol, standard procedures, and that he'd be familiar with the kind of things he could face in the worst case scenario. Apparently 'sensitive material' like certain substances, graphic injuries, or traumatised victims.

Bart had to restrain a snort at the time. He wasn't five, who were they kidding.

The mangled state the victims supposedly could be in were a little too recognisable to him, injuries and torture he himself had experienced growing up. He's familiar with how they all scar, saw how they'd become inseparable from the identities of all the other lab rats and slaves. It was almost unheard of for anyone to not have any. The prostitutes he conspired with would remind him of this constantly, as their customers would always twistedly point out their own physical flaws. Missing limbs, serrated, burnt, gouged out skin, black eyes, bruises, just like any other scar that the average person of Bart's time would possess. Strangely it attracted their top customers. After all, the higher ups of The Collective were notoriously cruel people. They had to be, as they made up the small plastic society encompassing the headquarters of the Reach, consisting of humans who were honoured to serve and protect the system that had treated them all too well, deluding themselves out of the very simple truth that they were an indistinguishable piece of meat from other humans to the bugs. 

Anyway, the hookers knew the ins and outs of the pretentiously influential Collective members who'd visit the underground markets, close to his camp. Prime targets for Bart and Nathaniel to figure out a pipeline of connections to the scarce materials that they simply couldn't scavenge from the scraps they had to slave away with during the day. He struck an agreement with some of the prostitutes, whoever they'd reveal as his target, he'd have to share the spoils of the fight with them. 

Which was fair enough. A deal was a deal, and now that he has the luxury, he recognises that he'd even consider some of them friends. 

Not Patricia though, she was a bit of an asshole. 

The point is, them, the resistance, the other camp slaves, Nathaniel, Owen, Jenni from before she turned meta, they always had a story to tell along with their scars.

With his lack of scars, however, there are no stories, no signs. Nothing. No echoes, of a life long endured.

It really felt like he was truly made for his mission.

Save for the glaringly obvious branding under the gums of his cheeks, visible however only to those who'd look.

And well, Bart isn't exactly an expert on the current 21st century social etiquette, but he was glad to figure out that no one really sticks their eyes in the mouths of others.

Well, save for dentists apparently.

His cover was blown, courtesy of a certain Jaime Reyes who's apparently allergic to keeping a secret for over two days, so apparently that mandated a League-approved full medical check of him.

Which was just so bizarre to the speedster, but well, whatever. Whilst it was irritating that his family seemed to be walking on eggshells around him, with each check up confirming that he was absolutely fine, they eased up more and more. And unexpectedly, with his cover blown, Wally finally warmed up to him by a tenfold. It was nice. 

He dreaded his first dental appointment so much last year, because that could make things very annoying for him again. However, half an hour passed and he was in and out with a lollipop in his hand and a smiling Jay. 

Clearly, dentists must only care about teeth! Not gums. Who would've thought? 

So, maybe he was naïve in thinking that the second time round would be just as smooth.

There was a new dentist.

-

"The lovely Dr. Rossi." Jay narrated to the two younger men. "She was doing his routine check up and she’d explain as she went along, how she was looking at his molars, counting his teeth, scraping at the enamel."

-

Bart was getting comfortable in the chair, eyes flitting round the room as he couldn't help himself, after all, he was trying his best just sitting there with a mouthful of gadgets and gloved fingers scraping along his teeth. Frankly, he deserves the whole box of sweets he eyed on his way in for even just being here. 

Then all of a sudden, she just, paused. Her enthusiastic tone, gone quiet. And he knew instantly. Could tell where exactly her eyes were fixed. 

In his panic, time slows and he watches her slowly looking back to where Jay was sat, at the other end of the room. Bart doesn't really know what he's feeling, dread, frustration. He can't recognise it, but whatever it is. He doesn't like it. 

-

“My heart dropped without knowing, I mean- At worst, kid needs some braces, a filling, I don’t know. But the way she looked to me, with concern, apprehension, suspicion. I’ll never forget."

-

Wheeling her seat to his file on the computer, Bart swiftly sits back up, tasting the chemicals she spread around his teeth with a grimace. He hears her typing away as Jay walks to stand beside him. 

"Is everything okay Doc?"

Scanning the screen as she scrolls down it, her face remains bleak. "I'm not sure Mr. Garrick. There are some details missing from his records that I would very much appreciate you shedding some light on." 

Jay finally meets the young runner's eyes, and he's met with pure guilt. 

-

"The kid looked so guilty, like he was finally caught. How he should’ve been when I caught him drinking the scotch that night, not- not at some dentist appointment for crying out loud!” The old man exclaims, agitated by the memory. A little more calmly, he continues. “She went back to take another look, told me to come closer. There were these markings, I don’t know, lines, like some kind of language or a code, along the gums of his cheeks. I was so- I’d never seen anything like it before."

-

"Were you aware of these markings Mr. Garrick? Do you know what they're supposed to be?" She asks analytically, cold. 

Baffled, Bart, whose lying back down for the examination, hears Jay stutter in his confusion. "N-no! I didn't, this is the first- I." He looks back to the boy. "Bart?"

The younger hero simply looks away. The dentist tries to catch his line of sight, finally moving away from him to let him sit back up and speak. "Kid, are you aware of those marks at the back of your gums?"

Unknowing of what to say or do, he pointedly just sits there, quiet, staring off to the side where some poster of a tooth paste advertisement is plastered on the wall.

"Bart..." Jay urges him.

Looking up to his guardian, Bart tries for a grin. "It's a stick on tattoo, Milagro thought it would be funny-"  

"Removable ink dissolves with the procedure kid, that's permanent." The brunette speaks up from his side, arms crossed. Finally, she sighs. "I'm sorry Mr. Garrick, but I need you to leave the room. I'm going to have a little chat with Bart." 

-

“Rossi then asked me to leave, to talk with him one on one. When I was let back in, she clearly made little progress with him. Told me that it was obviously not a birth mark, but she just couldn’t tell what it was, that he wasn't budging. At the very least, she was apparently reassured that he's not being abused in any way, at least, not since moving in with us." 

-

Back in the reception area, Bart is swinging his legs as he grumpily chews around his sweet, trying to distantly make out what the dentist was telling Jay. 

"I can link you up with some very good services. Fostering troubled kids is a noble feat Mr. Garrick, but notably difficult. Don't feel ashamed to reach out. Be it you, or Bart."  

-

And of course, everything else is in perfect shape. He has a lovely set of bright teeth, I told him to keep up the good work. Jay recalls her saying. “All my life, I’ve worked with my fair share of troubled kids. How could I have founded all these programs without learning a thing or two. And I felt for them, so much, I truly did. But, I never realised just how different it could be when it’s personal, when one of your own has been affected like that. I couldn't think straight at all that day. On our way back, you see, after a day out we usually go for a run, but there was just so much on my mind, I don't- didn't know where to start. How to figure out that trigger for the long overdue heart to heart that you’d think he so clearly needed. Where he finally trusts to just be and talk to me, about his life, his past."

-

Things were quiet between the two as they walked around the city centre aimlessly, Bart risks a glance and recognises that Jay was caught up in his own head. 

-

"I don’t know what he saw on my face that day, but out of nowhere he just stopped walking. Asked if we could get some ice cream. It reassured me, I thought, maybe this is it, finally things were going in the right direction. We sat down at the parlour for a bit, and I waited. I tried I really did. He could tell, and again there was that guilt. Out of all things, why would he feel guilty over something like that? Because he was keeping it a secret? Survivor's guilt? I know survivor's guilt, hell of an experience. I've had my own fair share of it. But you know how Bart treats it, or anything like it? Almost like it was an inconvenience more than anything, as if he was talking about some homework that he didn't do. And in one sentence- “

-

With a mouthful of a sickeningly sweet mix of strawberry and chocolate ice cream, completely layered in rainbow sprinkles, Bart talks through his spoon, eyes seemingly bored. "Livestock gets branded, it's not the end of the world.”

The older hero gently drops his spoon. "You- you're not livestock Bart. You need to remember that. You're a person." Jay attempts calmly, softly, gaze tense with concern. 

Bart only rolls his own green in response. He takes another bite out of his dessert. "We were cows, pigs, inferior life forms. I'm not ashamed of it though, that was just the reality of the situation. Why pretend otherwise."

"It must've been..." The old man tightens his lips at the difficulty, brows furrowing impossibly deeper. "You've been through a very difficult experience Bart. You don't need to keep it to yourself, or hide it from us any longer, you know we're always here to-"

Swallowing, Bart waves the spoon lazily to the side as he raises a brow. "What's there to hide or talk about Jay. Nothing. That world doesn't exist anymore."  Or at least it better not, the young runner hears scratching at the back of his mind.

The older man is growing exasperated. "But what about you kid? You're here! You, and your very real experiences. Your brand?" 

-

"Okay, wait a second. Just what the hell is this kid's backstory, was he a slave? Experimented on? Why would he be livestock, I don't get it, I have a lot of questions!" 

"Zeek!" Pat seethes, eyes popping wide at the interruption. 

Jay laughs, voice dry and eyes wet at the stress of his situation. "You and me both son." He answers, before continuing with his story. 

-

Bart snorts. As though he just remembered something funny. "The lab techs of the Reach, the scientists, you know they're pretty smart. I mean, you'd have to be after everything they did, it'd be pretty embarrassing if they weren't honestly."

Jay listens on, attentively, not quite sure what to make of the boy's flippant tone.

"Well apparently, they struggled with my brand, 'cause of my healing factor. It was originally supposed to be here- " he points to his neck, "that's where people usually had it. But it'd disappear almost immediately. So they tried and tried, laser, tattooed, ultrasonic, acid, etched, shocked, branded in, anything- you name it. The markings would simply fade and heal immediately. But you know, credit where credit is due, am I right? They took it personally, as a challenge." 

-

"Did you know," forlorn, Jay asks, finally turning to look to the men at his side, "that the inside of your mouth, for anyone, be it your tongue, your gums. It heals the fastest compared to anything else in your body?" 

Somberly, the two shake their head, eyes wide in realisation of what kind of torture was being described by the older. Pat notices that the bartender was also clearly listening in, still washing the same glass from 10 minutes ago. Because why else would he look at it with what can only be described as subdued horror.

“Yeah, I didn’t either. Not until he told me that day, in the midst of an ice cream parlour, scraping his cup of ice cream clean.”

-

"Well obviously, they succeeded. And in the hardest place of all things- I mean, it was impressive more than anything." Leaning back to balance his seat on it hind legs, Bart prods with his tongue at the inside of his cheek briefly, Jay notices. Whether it was subconscious or not, he doesn't know. 

The kid eyes Jay's own unfinished melting scoop of vanilla, before pointing at it. "Hey, are you gonna finish that?"

-

"You know what the worst thing about all this really is?" Jay asks, more to himself than anyone else.

With a quiet shake of two heads, the speedster continues. "Every single day, he seemed totally fine. He was totally fine. As if we were bizarre for acting the way we would, so cautions, like he was somehow fragile. But he was okay, I mean he had to be- has to be. Because how the hell else does he go about his day, putting himself out there like it's nothing. Mental trauma, they say it's invisible. But that's simply not true, you can see it. Just like with physical scars. Yet despite his first month of mishaps, there was just nothing. The same way he was supposedly in perfect physical condition. And if no mental trauma blatantly manifests, well we would just end up driving ourselves crazy even looking for it I mean- it was confirmed by the doctors! Bart was, is, living a good life. Who am I to say otherwise, especially when it gives me the luxury to delude myself into thinking that I was doing a good job." Voice cracking, he takes a drink of the whiskey, not doing much to soothe it. Coughing, he clears his throat.

"But all the abuse and pain that I don't know of, it's just like this story with his healing factor. I think, the universe must have some sick sense of humour, making the remnants of a traumatic life that he persevered through disappear the moment he left it all behind, only for him to remember. Alone, in his own experience. And he just won't-"  Jay stumbles in his words, pausing before he continues with heightened despair. "But then there was that one lonely scar, completely hidden away. How could I have possibly missed that!

Finally, Jay folds, letting his face fall into his palms. In despair, he continues. "I never told Barry about it, his own flesh and blood. Honestly, I don’t know why. And I couldn't possibly share it with Joan, she- I know there are some things that were just too much for her. But then I also knew what she would say anyway. Love and a home. It was supposedly that simple. And I always found strength in that."

"But now she's gone, and I'm alone with Bart. And I just don’t know if I'm doing things right  anymore. Worst of it all, he doesn't need me the way I need him. If something were to happen, if he's not by my side anymore, I really wouldn't know what I'd do.

-

It’s late on a Sunday, approaching midnight in Central City, and Bart is found sat on the corner of his bed in the dark. Illuminated by the only source of light coming from the small screen before him, a frown is firmly set in place as he inspects the displayed data. 

Plugged into the port of his mini-computer, heating up beside him, is a key that allows him to remotely access the quantum servers he infiltrated with the Legion a month ago. On his other side, a spare portable server he nicked from the League provides an extra boost of processing power.

Regardless though, no matter how many times he tries to run the simulation (for hours at this point) he keeps receiving the same error messages of core overload, computational memory capacity exceeded. 

Bart lightly hits the back of his head against his wall in frustration. He’d try to calculate the data himself, speeding through each and every iteration mentally, but even just one miscalculation is risky enough to give him dud numbers. Best case scenario, he runs at the measly speed of sound and the treadmill explodes in return, all because he blinked and accidentally added a number too many. He’s not a computer after all. 

Worst case scenario- 

He shudders. The runner doesn't even want to think about it.

His schematics have been finalised at this point, all he really needs are the simulation results to adjust the treadmill’s parameters where necessary. Who would’ve thought he’d ever miss Reach tech. Owen would laugh in his face.

With a restrained sigh, he attempts to re-run the simulation, hoping for a miracle boost of processing power. 

He does have an idea that could help him. One, he really doesn't like the thought of too much. But he might have no other choice and at this point, he's desperate.  

Watching the numbers iterate through his screen, he wonders where Jay could be. The older speedster is rarely out of the house this late. 

Sure, it worked to his advantage. After his early shift with the Outsiders, Bart had scoped his place throughout the day, to see if he could grab his stuff without the risk of being caught by Jay. Not that it was so much about being caught, rather than avoiding the inevitable of talking to him again. Bart needs to face him one way or another, but- maybe not right now. It's been days, but he just hasn’t been in the mood for it at all.

So when his guardian finally left the house early evening, Bart went for it. And maybe he missed his room, his home, the tiniest bit. He decided he might as well run his simulations here. 

Supposedly the most advanced computational servers on this planet, they're still running at a clown speed. The runner abandons his equipment to let it run in the background as he heads downstairs to grab something to eat. 

On his way, he notices that the dining table is decorated with a second plate by his seat.

Why- 

Bart notes how cold the place feels. Empty. 

He misses Joan. He misses Jay. 

Waiting for his toasts to jump back up, ready, the ring of the bell breaks the silence. 

Speeding to the door, again he winces in apology to Joan. He doesn't know why the door always sets him up like that. 

Apparently the universe decided to punish him by dropping Jay right onto his lap. Well, more like onto his front door, being held up by Pat right now. The less drunk man stands stupefied in his tracks, clearly not expecting to be greeted by him.

"Pat? What are you doing here, what's-" And the stench of liquor hits him immediately. In shock, he asks. "Is Jay drunk?" 

Stirring from his strange loss for words, the older man responds, eyes kind as always. "He had a long night. " And then his hold around the older speedster's arm starts to slip, and he groans at the weight, his own booze in his system doing his joints zero favours. "Could we quickly come in, I mean-"

Bart moves to help by grabbing onto Jay's other arm, helping Pat to heave him onto a sofa. With a grunt, Pat falls back onto the armchair across from the sofa to rest a little. "Thanks Bart. How's things going?"

Speeding back with some water for the other, Bart stands by the edge of the sofa as he motions down towards his guardian. "Pretty okay, until you dumped a wasted Jay here that is. Why's he like this in the first place?" The young hero interrogates with crossed arms.

"Hey, be kind to him. He's going through a rough patch of some kind." 

With a blink, the boy looks back down with guilt, standing the slightest bit straighter. "Did he say anything? About, like what was wrong with him?" 

Slightly buzzed, Pat fixes the kid with a look.

What didn't Jay have to say.

Sighing, the man responds. "He's still hurting, you know, over Joan. He misses her."

Bart's eyes soften and Pat adds. "Listen, don’t be too hard on your old man. He loves you dearly and just wants you to be safe. You know that right?." 

The boy frowns, but before he can get a word in a loud CLANG clutters from the hallway. Speeding to the source, he spots a drunk bearded man sparring with the coat stand on the floor. Pat yells from the living room. "That's Zeek, he droves us here in S.T.R.I.P.E."

Closing the front door shut, he helps the man back up to his feet. Turning to thank the other, Zeek recognises the face he's met with. "Holy- you're that devil child! Shit!" And he pushes himself away, tripping once again on his way in to the living room. 

"I'm the what now?" Face plastered with confusion, Bart helps the mechanic up once again. 

"Ugh." Zeek complains from his stumble. "Thanks devil child, you ain't half as bad."

"Yeah, okay." Is what Bart concedes with as he plonks Zeek into the other arm chair at the far corner of the room by the kitchen, where Jay usually likes to sit to read. 

Nursing his glass of cold water, Pat squints as he feels tomorrow's hangover creeping on him already. "Ignore him kid, Zeek's nothing but nonsense sometimes."

"I'll have you know, I'm a respectable high-end junk-yard mechanic whose stolen the heart of the-"

"Duchess of Liechtenstein, we get it." Pat complains. 

"Look, I love me a good junk-yard too but what -"

"Shit, you're a man of culture too? You just made my cut devil child."

Bart snorts, he can't help it. "Honoured." Finally, he turns to more pressing issues. "Not that I don't love your company but-"

"Yeah, shoot. Here let me-" Pat says as he's about to stand, before Bart ushers him to remain seated, kneeling to slouch Jay across his back, arms dangling down from the younger's neck. 

"It's all good Pat, I've got this." And with a stand, he manages to carry Jay, though not without a few stumbles. He's gotten much stronger over the years, but his metabolism makes it hard for the heavier muscles to pack on. He's no Cassie or Jaime, and usually he doesn't mind it as much. But with the strain on his back, maybe he's feeling a bit spiteful right now. 

With his speed though, he can carry anything, so he blitzes with Jay on his back up the stairs to the older man's bedroom. 

"Holy- the devil child just vaporised the Flash!" He hears distantly from downstairs, along with some shushes.

The brunette decides that Jay looks uncomfortable in his day clothes, and speeds to change the man into some comfier pyjamas. The worn out ones though, not the nice ones, just in case. Finally, Bart positions Jay to rest along his side, rather than flat on his back, with a few pillows behind him to hold the man in place. 

A childhood practice from the days his brother would choke on his own drunken vomit. 

It's unlikely that Jay's gonna get sick from whatever the hell he's been up to, his metabolism, albeit slower than his and Barry's, is still fast enough to break everything down within a couple of hours. 

What the hell he's been drinking himself stupid over though, is another question. 

Bart glances to a picture of Joan by the nightstand. Of course Jay misses Joan, when does he not. But for things to get this bad, there's gotta be something else too.

Zeek's apparent recognition of Bart and Pat's strange look by the doorway, tells him all he needs to know.

He speeds up a glass of water along with some of Jay's specialised horse-tranquilliser equivalent of a pain killer, leaving them by the nightstand. Gently sitting himself beside the older man, Bart reaches to hold his hand. 

Chapter Text

It's a fresh Monday morning in El Paso and the first week in, back to college. Jogging up the steps of the lecture hall, Jaime throws a couple nods and glowing smiles left and right, happily greeting his classmates on his way up to his usual seat. 

“Hey Diego, my man what’s up.” He high fives to the row below him, sliding past the narrow space of folded up seats and students already sat in his own row. “Zuri, hey girl how was your summer. Grace, how you doing. Bart, where’ve you been.”

Just as he’s about to unpack his stuff out on to his desk, he pauses, and does a double take to the row below. “What the hell are you doing here?!” He hisses.

Bart dramatically rolls his eyes from where he’s sat. “Dude, you’ve been ignoring my texts.”

Ripping his phone straight out of his back pocket, Jaime spots a couple of messages from about 5 minutes ago. Flatly, completely unimpressed, he responds. “Are you serious.” 

Grabbing the packaged strawberry donut out from the older hero’s bag, the runner pops it open. “It was literally an emergency.” 

Before he can take a bite, Jaime reaches down to yank the donut right out of the speedster’s grip, who yelps back in complaint. “What, like that time with the capuchins?” He snarks sarcastically.

Bart holds his chest in betrayal, clearly scandalised. “Blue, you don’t understand! They were out to get me!” 

Jaime argues back. “That’s because you’re a frickin’ racoon Bart! Always stealing my shit! Monkey recognises rodent!”

Khaji-Da speaks up. << Racoons are of the procyonid genus, not rodents. And I must concur with the Kid Flash, Jaime Reyes. Lower primates my metaphorical behind, I recognise a military formation when my sensory input maps one. >>

Without a second thought, the boy yells with a whisper to the corner of his shoulder. “How the hell are you siding with- you know what, we are not arguing over this.”

Jaime winces apologetically as he catches the strange looks the rest of his row are clearly judging him with. 

Looks like he’ll have to find a new study group.

As always, the speedster responds back in place of the scarab. “Uh, yes we are, because I’m right, you’re wrong.” Bart counters with a full mouth, chewing through the donut. 

Jaime re-grabs the remaining half back, shaking it in emphasis. “You see? What did I say, a damn racoon!”

Swallowing, Bart decides to climb up the row, getting himself comfortable in the seat next to his friend. A mess of limbs, sprawled unnaturally across the seat, Bart nods up at him. “What’s up.”

Jaime sighs with a roll of his eyes as he gives up, handing him over the last remaining bite of the donut and sits himself down as the lecture starts. 

Opening a fresh new page of his workbook, Jaime passes a glance over to his friend before quietly murmuring. “Should I be concerned about anything?”

This far into their friendship, Bart really shouldn’t be surprised by his friend like that. Sitting himself up properly, he whispers back with a defensive quirk of his brow. “Not that I’m aware of, why you asking?”

Gaze fixed to the professor, Jaime murmurs back as he thoughtlessly scribbles down the name of the class. “It’s been a while, Ed filled in for the last shift we shared and you were the one who didn’t respond to any of my messages in the first place. What gives?”

The runner fiddles with one of the loose pens scattered across from him. Looking to his friend from the corner of his eye, Bart is at a cross-road.

Throughout the past months, he’s kept wondering whether he should confide in the other with what’s been going on with him. After all, Jaime made the right call with this timeline. But then again, he barely lasted over a day when the speedster had told him the truth.

And ultimately, it was his time-stream, his choice. He gave his word to the Legion and as much as he trusts his best friend with his life, if not more, there’s just too much at stake here that simply isn’t his to decide. He respects that at the very least.  

The speedster keeps having to remind himself of this as of late. 

However, with a quiet exhale, he grumbles back, eyes fixed to the front. “Apparently it takes 62 bottles of liquor to knock Jay out, how about that, huh.”

Silence ensues, backed by the ramblings of the lecture, as the older boy registers what was said, before quickly turning to Bart with shock. “What?” 

The younger relents, meeting wide brown eyes once again. He jokes. “I know right? Fiddler should’ve ditched his violin a century ago and just taken him to a bar. Who knew?”

Fingers to the bridge of his nose, Jaime tries to follow with closed eyes. “Okay, back up a second. You need to help me out here. What?” He repeats incredulously.

Glance flitting to the board as the runner fidgets uncomfortably, he leans closer to his friend and finally decides to quietly share. “Court’s dad and some friend of his- which by the way, he must have had me confused with Klarion or some shit, I don’t know what the hell was up with that-“

“Bart!” The older boy interrupts with a frustrated whisper.

“Right-“ The runner squirms. “Well, the three of them went drinking or something. They brought Jay back home last night, totally smashed. And he reeked, he smelled like-“

Home.  

No, that’s not quite right. The present is his home, not his past, not anymore.

“-he smelled like he was soaked in a vat of cigarettes and booze.”

Jaime can’t picture Jay in such a state at all. It just, doesn’t compute. Unimaginable. Lecture long forgotten, he asks. “Has he done anything like this before?”

Bart shares with guilty eyes. “No. Never.”

“And what about the other two?”

“Just a little drunk, but nothing like him. They passed out on our sofas though, in fact they’re still there.”

“You left them all alone?” The older boy exclaims lowly.

“What am I? Their babysitter?” The speedster quietly argues back. “Besides- they were awake when I left. Even made them coffee and shit, what else was I supposed to do?”

Recognition flits through Jaime’s eyes as he realises something, noticing how wound up the other is from tension, with the scarab backing him up mentally. So he continues, a little calmer. “No- didn’t you want to talk to him? Figure out what’s going on? Something tells me it wasn’t for celebration.”

Looking away, Bart flicks one of the caps of Jaime’s pens across the practically bare notebook. “Besides the fact that he was still knocked out cold, no. We’re not exactly on speaking terms right now, I hadn’t seen him in days before last night.”

Surprise mars the older hero’s face. “Shit, seriously? What happened?” There’s clearly more than just a can of worms being opened here.

Bart shakes his head as he lets the pen in his grip fall to the desk. “Man, I wouldn’t even know where to begin.” 

With a small but knowing smile, Jaime nudges him. “Try me, I mean. I’m sure you’ve told me crazier things.”

To which the younger can’t help but share a grin, which as he does, he catches the Professor throwing a glance towards them. His eyes flit away with subdued amusement, and with a more restrained smile, he looks back to his friend. “Nothing crazy, stupid more than anything. I don’t know what to think at this point honestly.”

With searching eyes to his friend, Jaime recalls his previous realisation as he tries. “Look, I get it. It’s normal to be shaken by these things. I mean, especially with your brother-“

Something drops in Bart’s chest.

Unease and confusion morphs into something more simple like anger. Brows pull his face into a scowl as he gets defensive, quietly pushing his friend by his shoulder to better face him. “Hold on. What are you on about?”

Jaime shifts as he briefly looks back to his professor nervously. “I meant- you know. Think about it. You’ve been arguing with Jay, who’s currently passed out drunk, I get how it can remind you of some things.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” The younger hero challenges.

With hesitant frustration, Jaime argues. “Shit- I don’t know Bart! I’m just saying, you obviously have a bad relationship with these things!”

“ ‘These things?’ Like being wasted? It’s fucking hilarious. There’s a reason why that picture of you and Tye is still our group photo.”

The older boy tries to explain. “That’s not- no. Jay’s your guardian, not your friend. It’s not the same, you know what I’m talking about.”

“No. I don’t. What is this, a moded sequel to Gar’s failed intervention?” The runner can’t help but counter with a raised voice. 

“Oh come on now, that’s not fair-“

A stern cough finally breaks the two up, and the boys freeze in their tracks.

The two notice how the rows below are looking back up at them, a mix of irritation, amusement, nonchalance, and concern.

Alright, Jaime officially needs to move states, changing study groups just won’t cut it anymore.

“Can I help you gentlemen?”

As the older hero blanches in silence, his mind remains blank.

Bart naturally speaks up on their behalf, answering back sincerely. “No ma’am you may continue.”

Incredulous, she gasps as she replies. “Excuse me?”

Reporter friendly smile plastered in place, he realises he might have misspoken. “I-I mean.” He laughs nervously. “Sorry Professor! You see- Jaime here has been raving about this class and how it’s a 2020 can’t miss, so you know, it’s all very exciting.“ At which all the other hero can do is bury his head in his palms, moaning in embarrassment.

The Professor squints up with her framed eyes, fixing the position of her glasses as she does. “Mr Reyes, I remember you. You had a solid track record last year. I expect you to keep up the good work.”

“Y-yes! Of course, thank you Professor Angpetu.” He musters up in response, sitting up ramrod straight.

“You on the other hand, I don’t recognise you.” 

Bart stretches out a hand for a relaxed wave, pissing the older boy off all the more. “Bart Allen, nice to meet you Prof.” 

The professor walks to their side of the room to inspect him better. “ ‘Allen’ ? I don’t recall an Allen being in my class.” 

The runner can feel his friend glaring daggers into him.

“You’re right ma’am, I’m not in your class. But, you see. I just had to be here! That’s how good your classes are.”

“Is that so.” She folds her arms with an unconvinced crease of her brow. “Aren’t you a little too young to be in a third year class?”

Jaime speaks up. “He’s like, one of those gifted kids Professor Angpetu.” The ones who belong in a mental institution that is, he mutters under his breath. 

Bart elbows him in offence. 

A girl that the speedster recognises as a waitress from the diner that Jaime and him have frequented countless times speaks up. “Hold on- I remember you! You’re that asshole who tried to pay with paper clips!”

…

Exiting the building, Jaime practically yells. “I can’t believe you got me booted on the first day of term! Mid-term, sure I welcome it. End of term, depends on exams, but start of term? You’re reaching new heights Bart!” 

“Oy, it takes two Mr Reyes. You started it!” Bart accuses as he lightheartedly jogs to keep up with his storming friend. 

In his state of exasperation, the older hero stops in his pace, bag swinging from his back as he turns to confront the other, arms wide open in frustration. “What do you expect?! You suddenly show up after going radio-silent, telling me that you haven’t seen Jay in days either, who by the way, is currently shit-faced, which is an insane sentence to say in itself, and you don’t expect me to worry? Fuck me then I guess!” 

“Yeah! Fuck you!” The runner says without meaning, struggling not to laugh at the statement as his anger loses its steam.

To which Jaime also struggles not to snort at, biting back a grin as he attempts to remain stern. He fails, pointing earnestly at the other as huffs of laughter spill from him. “N-no, fuck you!”

They ultimately end up on a bench nearby under the shade of a tree, each eating a popsicle that Bart had bought them within seconds as a sign of truce. 

“Ya valió verga…” Jaime complains as he lets his head hang back, eyes resting shut.

“Huh? What’chu say?” Bart asks around a mouthful of ice.

Sitting back straight, the taller boy throws him a look. “I said the break was too damn short. I need another week. Or a month. Maybe a year.” He tosses the stick of his eaten treat to the trash can. 

He misses. 

<< Abysmal aim Jaime Reyes >>

With a groan he stands to walk to his crime of littering, joints cracking as he kneels to pick it up. 

Waving the popsicle, Bart adds. “So I did you a favor, you’re welcome.”

Still knelt by the trash can, Jaime simply glares at him. 

With a hard roll of his eyes, Bart surrenders. “Ugh fine, look I’ll make it up to you. What was that class anyway? Anatomy?”

“No. Research and Statistics.” The black haired boy says as he sits himself back next to his friend.

“What? I swear, didn’t you have that last semester? Or first year or something?”

“Nah, first year was Lab Stats.”

“…Okay.”

“And last semester was just Stats.” 

“Are you serious.”

“Man- I hate statistics.”

“You have a literal super computer fused to your spine.” Bart points out. 

“-which I try to ignore because the rest of the world doesn’t.” 

The auburn haired boy crosses his arms at that, unconvinced. 

Jaime relents, confessing with a sigh. “You know how Khaji gets, look I still haven’t figured out what it is about numbers exactly that drives him crazy but it’s hit or miss. Either I get it or I am so confused by what he says, that I want to just never think again for the rest of my life.”

<< I would like to see you make a goldfish understand 1 plus 1 >>

Bart snorts at the expression now residing on the other hero’s face. “What now?”

Eyes flat, matching the unamused thin line of his lips, Jaime shares. “He just called me a goldfish.”

As always, the shorter boy completely loses it, laughing with his entire body as he slides slightly off the bench, a little too entertained by Khaji-Da’s (very unfunny if you asked Jaime) insult. The older boy grins at the infectious energy, deciding to add to it by shoving the younger completely off the bench.

The barks of laughter only get louder from the floor. 

Wiping the fleeting tear of joy with his wrist, the runner rests an elbow on to the edge of the bench seat as he looks up to his friend. “So goldfish, how’s the new fish bowl treating you? Fully unpacked yet or is that how I’m gonna make it up to you?”

Sighing as he leans back into the bench, Jaime answers. “Nah, with Traci on Fate duty I had more time to spare. Guess there’s an upside to it.” He tries to convince himself, rubbing the back of his neck.

Wordlessly, Bart simply nods. 

The black haired boy then perks up as he recalls his conversation with Tye from the other day. “Hey by the way! Remember that kid that Asami tutors? The one from down the block?”

“You mean the guy who’d always ring the bell?” 

“Yes, the one you and Milagro terrorised away.” 

“Good times, good times.”

“Pretty sure you two made him superstitious.”

“Hey, the logical explanation was walkie-talkies in the walls, not ghosts. That’s on him.” Bart says disingenuously, shrugging. “Anyway what about him?”

“His mom was going to treat him and his friends to a trip to the circus, but apparently he got his dad’s car all banged up. So she’s giving the tickets away.” 

“Circus? Like with Joker fans?

“… Clowns, but yeah.”

“Sounds edgy.”

“It’s not- okay, sure. Anyway, Asami’s got six tickets. You in?” 

“With Ed?”

“No, with Barry.” Jaime plays, expression riddled with sarcasm. “Who else?”

Bart dramatically waggles his brows as he counters teasingly. “Mr Reyes, are you asking us out to a triple date?”

“Okay, Ed can come but you’re uninvited.” Jaime stands to leave, plucking the dried ice-lolly stick from Bart’s grip to toss into the garbage can.

“Noooo!” Bart wails dramatically, getting himself dragged as he clings on to his friend’s leg. “No take-backs!” 

Rubbing his hands clean from the rubbish, Jaime reaches to lift the other boy up by his arm, eyeing the red cobble of the ground that now stains the runner's graphic tee.

As the boy undusts himself, Jaime slings his backpack back on properly. “So?”

“… So what?” Bart asks back. 

“You coming?”

“When is it?”

“In a few weeks, 4th of September.”

Ah.

It’s kind of difficult to map out a timeline when you have literally zero idea what the hell you’re going to be doing out in space, let alone know how long it’ll take.

And he knows there shouldn’t be any delays, he’s on the final stretch of finishing up his treadmill. If things were to go smoothly, he should be back by the start of September.

Just in time for school start. Ugh, English Lit. He shudders.

At this point of his life though, Bart has long learnt that things rarely, if ever, go according to plan. There’s a reason why he doesn’t think much of them in the first place.

But it doesn’t mean he’s not careful 

-most of the time.

… Sometimes.

…

It depends on his mood.

“4th of September huh.” He thinks out loud, before snapping his fingers at a fake memory. “Oh man, I’m going camping with Carol and the others. No idea when we’ll be back by.”

“Alright well, let me know when you do.” Jaime says as he starts walking. 

Beside him, Bart wonders. “Where we headin’?”

Brow raised, Jaime responds. “Who’s this “we”? I’m heading home.”

Bart stops him, grip around his arm. “You’re not giving your bestest of amigos a house tour? Especially after all that heavy lifting?”

Crossing his arms, Jaime is always one to call him out, face remaining unmoved. “You carried three boxes and called it a day.”

“Come on!” The runner complains back in defence. “Someone had to provide the crew with food!”

“You ate half of it on the way!”

“Taxes.” Bart shrugs. “Besides, I was starved after all that hard work.”

“You- ugh!” The older hero storms away once again. 

“Hey! Wait up!”

They ended up racing to Jaime’s shared flat, with the speedster beating him to it. Arm around a vase of flowers he grabbed on the way, he waits, leaning against the front door.

During his wait, his phone vibrates in his pocket. It’s a message from Iris. 

NOT Grandma: Bart

NOT Grandma: Is Jay available?

Frowning at his phone, he doesn’t pay attention to the muted sounds behind the door.

What should he tell her?

Caught up in his thoughts, he doesn’t realise the door behind him is being unlocked and he falls back, right into his friend. 

“-hey you just got here where yah heading?” Brenda yells in the background. 

Supporting the speedster by his back, Jaime looks down to him questioningly. 

“You good?”

Ducking under the arm that caught him, Bart says with a grin. “Never better.” Before looking around the newly furnished flat.

He’s met with a freckled redhead who’s standing to the right by the kitchen bar, packing up her lunch for later on in the day. 

With an impressed whistle, Bart jumps to sit onto one of the stools of the kitchen bar, giving it a spin. 

“You guys made it nice.”

“Thanks Bart, all the credit goes to me of course.” 

Jaime defends himself. “Hey! I added those funny shaped mirrors!” 

“You get a you tried star.” Brenda snarks.

“What the fuck is going on at ass o’clock in the morning.” A buff big guy yawns out loudly, scratching his belly under his shirt, heading to the kitchen in his boxers. Sleep in his eyes, the 20 year old squints at Jaime questioningly. “You’re back already? Please tell me I didn’t sleep right through the day.”

Jaime doesn’t even bother with a response. Instead, he scowls at the runner once again, reminded of what occurred not too long ago. 

Leaning against the counter beside Brenda, Paco tries to nick some of the food she’s preparing before she slaps his hand away with a mean glare. Almost resorting to their decade’s worth of a habit of arguing back at her, the flowers resting in the runner’s lap catches his attention.  “What’chu got there legs?”

Remembering his own present, Bart places the vase beside Brenda. “A housewarming gift!”

Metal scrapes the floor as Jaime takes the seat beside him. He doesn’t even need to say anything as he just offers his friend a knowing look. 

Bart rolls his eyes at the all-too accurate accusation, shooing it away. “I’ll pay on my way back.” 

Jaime just lets his head fall with a sigh.

Munching on a meatball he stole, Paco in contrast cheers at the theft. “Bart, you’re the man!” Right before Brenda grabs at his cheeks to spit out his crime. 

“Out with it pendejo!! You owe me a fucking courgette-ball!” She yells as she grapples with him. Making a noise of disgust, Paco spits out the food.

It lands on her shoe. 

“Fucking ew!” She complains as she kneels to clean it off, shoving into him on her way to the trash can. 

“It’s what you get for poisoning me with your veggie-agenda!” He fusses.

Throwing a look to his friend, Bart raises a not-too-subtle brow. 

Jaime simply lifts his shoulders with an unknowing shrug, whispering back as he finishes packing up Brenda’s lunch for her. “I don’t know what’s been going on with them recently, but something’s clearly decided to crawl up their asses and just stay there.” 

Bart never misses the opportunity. “What, like Khaji-Da did to you?” 

Jaime simply throws him off the chair. 

A gentle smile blooms across Brenda’s face as she sees that her lunch is finally ready to pack away. “Thanks Jaime.” She says warmly, before throwing Paco a stink eye.

“Oh, come on!” The boy protests, throwing his arms to point to where Bart is getting back up on his feet as evidence to his unsaid counter argument.

Studying pre-law, Brenda always has the final say. “Jaime didn’t spit food all over me on my first day back!”

“Also you gotta see us in the field, that was practically a warm embrace.” Jaime adds dryly. 

“It’s true.” Bart groans as he gets back on his seat. “Devastation makes Blue look like a wimp.”

“You’re her personal punching bag!” The older hero counters. 

“Semantics.” Bart hand waves away.

“You’re just objectively wrong in this case.” 

Moving on to the vase of flowers before her, Brenda leans forward to smell them, blushing at the gentle scent. “Oh Bart, they’re so lovely! Where did you get them from?”

His head tilts as he realises he wasn’t paying attention. “I have no idea, I just spotted the hydrangeas and ran. They’re my grandma’s faves.”

Paco meanwhile, who was scandalised at her reaction, throws a hand to his hip as he argues. “Oh, so he can give you old people flowers and you’re all awww but I give you a beautiful rose and you just laugh. I see how it is!” 

And again, the two bicker in the background as Jaime drags his face down. “I move out from having to babysit one household, just to babysit another.” 

Hand to his shoulder, all too seriously, Bart says. “There’s no escaping your destiny Jaime Reyes.”

And Jaime takes the responsibility earnestly. “Hey, idiots uno y dos! Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Letting go of her aikido hold of Paco’s arm behind his back, Brenda then says a little too curiously. “Why, you two talking hero business?” 

Paco backs her up. “Does it or does it not involve you throwing up in your suit the other day? ‘Cause you still haven’t told us the full details on that one.” 

The runner throws his friend a curious look, out-of-the-loop for once. 

Sight flitting across the three inquisitive pairs of eyes, Jaime tries to salvage his dignity. “What happens between a man and his beetle armour is nothing but his own business- besides, Brenda don’t you have class.“

Paco answers before she can respond. “You know how she is, gets ready two hours before her ten minutes by car class even starts.” 

Rolling her eyes, Brenda zips her bag shut, getting a start to the door. “I’m meeting the others to catch up and do a little semester prep. What do you have planned for the day?”

“Oh you know the usual, playing some Unreal, meeting Wonder woman for lunch, fixing up a few monsters in the garage and being a fucking G!”

“Yeah, well- you have fun with that.” She taunts, and before she slams the front door shut, she pushes it back and forth in emphasis, adding. “And Jaime, this is the front door, not the window!” 

Bart breaks the silence that follows her departure. “Damn, Cassie’s right. Men really are the problem.” He says, before peeking at the message that buzzed his phone again earlier. 

NOT Grandma:  ???

Subconsciously, his jaw tenses. Jaime eyes the movement quietly. 

“So I’ve been told.” Paco responds, his three younger sisters and their lectures coming to mind. 

Leaning forward onto the bar-top counter, Jaime smugly points out. “So… You got her a flower. Like a singular one or-“

“Cállate wey, I don’t want to even hear it.” Paco blushes before he cringes self consciously, grumbling away while he looks into the fridge to prepare his morning routine of too many protein shakes. “You guys want any?”

“Sure, since someone stole my morning snack.” 

Bart lets the jab slide as he decides to finally respond to Iris.  

Me: Nah, still asleep. Long night.

High-strung by parenthood and the stress of getting the career opportunity of her dreams, Iris of course replies back immediately.

NOT Grandma: Oh.

NOT Grandma: Is he okay? 

What the hell can Bart say to that. Any natural lie he comes up with stabs his stomach with guilt. 

Me: Yeah, he’s just exhausted.

NOT Grandma: Do u think it’s because of… u know… League stuff?

Me: Maybe, idk. 

Me: Anyway do u need him for smn?

NOT Grandma: He was supposed to come by about ten minutes ago. 

NOT Grandma: And u know him, he’s never late. So I was wondering where he was. 

Me: For the twins? 

NOT Grandma: Yes… I’m sorry Bart but do u think u could take over for him? I really need to leave soon. In like 15 min. 

ME: No problema, see u soon grandma! 

He sends back, not realising that Iris doesn't call him out on the one thing she keeps telling him off over.

“-again?” Bart tunes back in to Jaime’s worry.

“Yeah, like the tenth time in the past month.”

“No wonder dad’s been pulling so many night shifts.”

“Told your old man to send him to the wolves but-“

“ ‘He’s got a wife and kids.’ “ The hero recalls from his previous conversation with his dad on the topic. “Bunch of bull, as if that asshole cares about anything else beyond whatever shit he’s hopped up on.”

Bart asks. “Luis?”

The other two confirm his suspicion with a nod and a grunt.

The runner says with concern. “That guy is bad news.” 

Jaime exhales deeply, stressed. “Tell me about it. If he keeps flaking on his shifts like that, I’ll be giving him something else to worry over."

Paco tries to reassure his friend. “Hey, look. I’ll see what I can do.” He says kindly to Jaime, resting a hand on the other’s shoulder before he heads off to the couch with his breakfast. He continues. “Maybe today’s the day miracles happen and some guy forgets his sports car in the garage just waiting there for me to adopt.”

“Yeah and maybe that someone is Jessica Alba.” Jaime smirks.

Of course, Bart adds to the quip. “You can get her a flower too Paco.” 

Disgruntled, Paco complains. “What are you two nerds doing over here anyway, don’t you have class Jaime?” 

Who, once again at the reminder, just walks away to his bedroom. 

“What crawled up his ass?” Paco questions, chewing through his meal. 

Bart high fives him as they both bark with laughter at the same joke. 

Speeding to join his friend, Bart practically throws himself on top of Jaime’s bed. He watches Jaime rifling through his old notes from last year, who in the meantime feels a sense of dread and doom, knowing how much he has yet to revise.

Looking around, the runner can tell that Jaime has made himself right at home in the apartment, a stark contrast to the empty room he saw last time he was here with the rest of the Runaways and Traci, helping Jaime to move in. The posters, a mix of both movies and video games, are plastered across all sides of the walls, accompanied by countless anatomy diagrams stuck everywhere too. 

Never the tidiest person, a mess of clothes are spread throughout too, with dumbbells of various weights scattered alongside the different piles of material.

“Wow you literally copy and pasted your bedroom from back home.”

All too happily abandoning his sorry attempt at revising, Jaime turns in his chair to Bart. “Shit you think?” He frets. “Do you think Traci’ll hate it?”

The runner is lying there all too comfortable for his own good, just lounging as he responds, amused. “Come on now, she’ll obviously think it’s cute.” Bart wonders if this is what it’s like whenever his own worries with Eduardo misconstrue into something as silly as this.

Jaime joins the speedster by getting comfortable on the floor by his own bed, resting his arms over the bed covers. 

“Cute is not manly.”

Bart just blinks at him. 

“Okay fine, I’ll own it.” Jaime groans, muffling his response against the bed. 

The runner snickers, resting now on his side to face his friend. “How’s Milagro dealing with your move?” 

Carding his hand through his own hair, Jaime just snorts at a memory. “Not even hours after emptying out my room, I went back home for dinner and she had already taken over it completely.”

“Girl had a mission. Gotta respect that.”

“She keeps calling me all the time though, as if I don’t see her practically every day for lunch or dinner.”

Something in the speedster’s eyes melt, endeared. “Aww, she misses you.”

“At least she’s honest about it, my parents keep pretending like it’s been long overdue, but then always text me to come over for meals. Like, who are they trying to fool.”

Bart glows at the thought of the Reyes family, smiling. “Man, your folks are the best.”

Jaime reaches out to grab a random weight that’s lying just opposite him on the floor, and starts working out with it. “I guess. It’s been a while since you’ve been over.” He strains, turns out he grabbed one of the heavier ones. “When Traci’s off Fate duty and I gotta rain check on them, I’ll just send you there in my place.” 

Tracking the movement, the younger hero responds. “Maybe your mom will finally adopt me and then I’ll be the son she’s always wanted to give your father.”

Always offended by his mom’s allegations, Jaime whines. “And when I cry child abuse I’m the bad guy.” 

The runner jokes. “You’re the bad guy for a lot of reasons anyway.” 

Jaime pauses. “You’re so lucky the Team had me in therapy right after everything went down.” 

“So you’ve told me.”

A minute passes and the quiet is filled with the soft grunts of Jaime’s resumed weight lifting and the background noise of Paco telling off his video game team-mates.

Again, the latino stops, taking a break. Having worked up a sweat, he proceeds to then ask. “What about you?” 

The speedster looks to him curiously. “Huh?”

The older hero breathes in calmly, but determined. “Don’t you miss your brother?” 

Bart sighs heavily, tired just from the thought of what Jaime is asking him to even consider. Sadness seeps into his gaze. “Why do you keep asking me about him man?”

Jaime briefly looks away as he contemplates. “I just think,” he starts, slowly, “-if Milagro suddenly disappeared from my life one day out of nowhere, I would wonder if she missed me.” 

“Well newsflash, you don’t need to worry about him. Because he’s dead. So it’s not like he has much to think about in the first place.” The runner tries to cut the conversation short. 

Unfortunately, the thing about Jaime is that he quite simply feels things a little too strongly. With immeasurable empathy, the guy wears his heart right on his sleeve for the whole world to see, obviously nurtured by the care and love that his family have showered him with growing up. Something, that’s not necessarily naïve to the world, but a little too trusting of it. 

So when Bart recognises the deep hurt that Jaime inexplicably feels on behalf of Owen, his heart begins to tear and rip by the seams of what has had to be rewoven over and over again throughout the countless tragedies that summarise his life. 

It spurs him to slide off the bed onto the ground, sitting himself right across from his friend, meeting the weighted look Jaime is looking at him with.

Bart breathes in shakily, and says with all the honesty of his being. “I love you more than him.”

Devastated, disbelief clouds Jaime’s gentle eyes. “That can’t be true.” 

“It is. You might not get it, because you have family that you love more than anyone. But Jaime, I hated him so much, just as much as I loved him.”

The very unnecessary need to defend a man he’s never met, just out of the mere concept of what it means to be an older brother, especially to someone he cares about, overwhelms Jaime, because suddenly, he’s enraged. “He took care of you! You’ve always told me that you wouldn’t be here today without him, those aren’t the words you say about someone you hate!” 

“He did, he always did what was best for me. Owen loved me so much, he gave me everything he could, especially when he had nothing himself.”

“Then how could you say something like that!” Jaime argues.

“Because he took just as much as he gave!” Bart cries. “I trusted him with my plans, I trusted that he’d have faith and respect me. I trusted him with my mind and my heart and he just tore it all apart! Over and over and over, into- into nothing !” He bawls, finally bursting out into tears as he hunches over. 

The older boy pulls him into an awkward side hug, the two resting against the bed frame as Jaime wipes at his own eyes too, sniffling, trying to maintain his own composure as he rubs along the speedsters arm in consolation. 

Resting against his friend’s shoulder, Bart doesn’t realise that his hair starts to tickle the other’s cheek. With closed wet eyes, the runner continues as he tries to dry them with his hands, voice soaked with hurt. “Our relationship wasn’t normal Jaime. It was fucked the moment our mom was killed, there’s just too much baggage.” Attempting to clear his throat, his voice cracks as he then tries to joke. “The guy had actual mommy issues dude, and it didn’t help when you’re a living reminder of her.” 

Indelicately spitting out tufts of hair that keep ruffling into his mouth, Jaime tries to be cool. Well, as cool as a teary-eyed guy struggling with hair in his face could be. Sweetly, but with sincerity, he says. “All that anger and hate you have, sure, you guys might not have had the most normal relationship but, I can still tell you love him man.”

Folding his arms closer to himself, Bart settles more into the half embrace, getting comfortable. “How could I…” He trails off, swallowing as the stressed pace of his heart starts to beat in his ears. “-how could I when he died with the birth of this new timeline.” Finally, he looks back up to his friend, his own green meeting dark amber eyes, reflecting in the light. “I killed him Jaime, who does that to someone they love.”

Finally, the speedster gets to his knees for a proper hug, and the two hold each other tightly. 

Logically, Jaime can recognise that the younger struggles to reconcile his own actions with his internal turmoil. That he bears an experience so isolating, that can only be the result of making the impossible happen.

It’s been years since the Reach’s subverted invasion, and even today he still has his occasional night terrors from the time he was nothing but a bystander to his own life, doomed by an apocalyptic prophecy. To become an uninvited guest in your own home, watching it deteriorate by the second into a prison that you can’t escape from. To feel the pure physical detachment of your own consciousness from your body, like a flower that’s been plucked from its stem, only laying there to rot away with the passage of time. The puss of the rot becoming the seed that plants itself into his controlled body, to ultimately corrupt him into becoming the world-ending weapon he was meant to be. 

The aftermath didn’t come to him as easy as he hoped it to be. He had his therapy, he’d even been on some weak meds for a bit, and now, he’s got his routine. But all of it could never make up for the fact that even now, he feels like he could still scream and shout out about the truth of what terrorised him so much during that time, and in response he could never receive back an echo of pure understanding.

But having someone, who’s so interwoven by the circumstances that has affected him so much and remain by his side throughout it, well, Jaime likes to think it comes pretty close to that echo that the mind at times craves. 

And moments like these, they remind him that he believes it to be true vice versa for the time-traveller. 

The vibrating ring of a phone cuts their embrace short, and the two pull away, damp eyes avoiding one another, self-consciousness sobering them up from their previous display of emotion. 

Sniffling, Bart answers the call, voice still heavy and hoarse. “Hello?”

As always, Jaime groans as his joints crack alongside him standing up. He stretches and rubs his face in an attempt to collect himself. In doing so, he catches a rogue Paco with a toothbrush, peeking in from the half-opened door, quickly rushing away at being spotted.  

Jaime will deal with him later. 

“Sorry Iris. I’ll be there now.” 

Waiting by the hallway over in Central City, irritation slowly fades as Iris grows concerned. “… Is everything okay? You sound off.”

Coughing, the runner tries to clear his throat.  “Everything’s crash, why?”

Unconvinced, she starts her interrogation. “Have you still not made up with Jay?”

Of course, Barry ratted him out. “I’m not at home, I’m with Jaime. He’s trying to teach me new swimming tricks but he just keeps drowning me instead.” Is for some reason, the best thing the runner can come up with to answer Iris’ unasked question of why he sounds like he just won the 2020 Worldwide Sob-festival award.

The older hero is completely offended, motioning with his arms what the hell have I ever done to you to deserve that in his own defence. 

Bart just waves him away. 

“Are you serious?” Iris fumes, unimpressed by his bullshit.

Panicking, he quickly hangs up with a “Love you gramma, see you in a bit bye.” 

He’s faced with Jaime’s signature crossed arms, a pout and raised brow that arises every time Bart is quite simply put, existing. 

“I think that went well.” The runner rejoices, overly optimistic.

“Yeah, it helps when you’re delusional.” Jaime retorts.

For all his talk, he still ultimately ends up joining Bart at the Allen’s household for babysitting duties. With what would’ve been a break right after his double lecture means that the pre-med student still has just over two hours to spare, and the runner still owed him from this morning. 

Stepping over the shrub-bush from the side of the house, where he transformed back into his civvies, Jaime heads to the front door, and rings the bell. 

The door swings wide open, and he’s met with a pair of speedster’s half the size smaller than the one he was expecting to see.

“Jaime!” The pair of tornados celebrate, jumping around him and pulling him in to the hallway. 

“Hey,” He laughs, endeared as always by the two, but he still plays up his stern persona. “Didn’t you two learn about stranger danger? I don’t think you should be opening doors like that.”

“Bart’s not here, so we can do whatever we want.” Dawn huffs, turning away from him indignantly. 

“Is that so?” He questions, amused. “And if he finds out?”

The two gasp in shock at what was completely unthinkable to them. Don worries. “You won’t tell him?” 

Offering his hands, the two grab on from each side as he walks them to the living room. “Tell you what, let’s make a deal. I keep this a secret and you two promise to follow the rule in the future, sound good?”

The tornados agree and they each offer their pinky’s to shake on it, after which they abandon him as they head to their more interesting toys whilst he sits himself on one of the sofas.

“Where is he anyway?”

“He ran mommy to her office so she’s not late! She’s got a huuuuuuge meeting!” Dawn explains in her tone of perpetual excitement. 

“Huuuuuuuuge meeting!” Her brother mimics, falling as he tries to capture the concept of 'huge' with his arms.

And out of nowhere, a bigger speedster materialises, scaring the twins, whilst scarab warned Jaime of the << incoming nonsense >>, in advance. 

“Huuuuuuuuuge meeting!” The runner joins in.

Overcoming their initial fright and screams, they quickly recover with endless laughs and run back at him to be lifted up. 

Bart groans as they all flop beside Jaime on the couch. “I think you two are getting a little heavy for this.” 

“Nooo!”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yuh-uh!”

“Never!”

“Okay, never.” Bart concedes with a gesture of surrender, at which the twins share over-excited giggles, before they finally head back to their games, satisfied with their win. 

Finally, he turns to the other hero. “They let you in, didn’t they.”

“Yeah they didn’t even hesitate.” Jaime confirms. “They promised they wouldn’t do it again but I’m pretty sure I saw Dawn cross her fingers.” 

“I regret teaching her that one.” The younger sighs with a smile that says otherwise. He adds, a little too casually. “You know, it’s almost lunch time.”

“It really isn’t, like, at all.” 

“Ugh!” Bart complains, horrified with what follows. “So I gotta do Stats with you on an empty stomach?”

The pre-med student needlessly corrects. “ 'Research and Stats'.” 

“AAH!” Is all he gets in response from the younger, along with a pillow to the face. 

“Pillow fight!” Dawn screams, running up to grab extra ammo. Don in the meantime had grabbed the only other pillow from the floor, yelling . “Attack the beetle!” 

In another wold and in another time, that exact phrase from the same person would've meant something entirely different.

Bart just watches his kid father endlessly fighting Jaime’s legs whilst Dawn arrives with a pile of pillows double her size. 

She tries to throw them all at once but they don’t get very far, simply falling around her. 

“Hey, I got an idea.” Bart herds the twins to the pillow puddle. “Why don’t you both build a fort, and we choose the best one!” 

The tornados go crazy at the suggestion, immediately preoccupied with beating the other.

In the meantime, the oldest speedster heads to the kitchen at a normal pace, preparing some snacks for them all. Not unlike Joan, Iris also has a minimal-speed policy that she expects him to respect, especially so that he can set a good example for the twins. 

In all honesty, he could do better, but it’s not like he doesn’t try.

Jaime joins him, peeling a few apples as Bart prepares the sandwiches. 

“You know, why did you show up to my lecture this morning?” 

The continued smoothness of the boy’s actions contrast the blip in his heartbeat that scarab detects. 

“Can’t I just miss my dear old buddy blue, dearest blue, so dear to me, dear.” The runner exaggerates. 

And of course, he’s met with Jaime’s blank, unmoved face. 

“Ugh fine.” He might as well get it over with. He bites his lip at the slightest bit of nerves, looking back to the lounge out of habit for always needing to keep an eye on the twins, before he finally braves himself and faces his friend. “Look“ he starts, “-I need Khaji to run some numbers for me.”

Jaime had no idea what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. “Oh?” He says absentmindedly, purposefully focusing on the apple peeling as his mind rushes through a list of reasons as to why Bart would need something like that in the first place. 

He can’t find any, so he abandons the apple peeling and towels his hand dry, before resting a hand on the counter to lean against as he looks back at the other, hand to hip. 

“And why do you need Khaji to do that?”

“It’s for a project.” Bart answers, holding his gaze. 

Throughout the years of working together as team-mates, Jaime’s noticed through Khaji’s offhand comments that the runner has a strong control over his own heart rate. He’s kind of just assumed that it was a speedster thing, especially since the first time the scarab had said something was when the boy went near light speed and no pulse was detected. 

Now, it’s the first time the taller hero wonders if it’s also just a Bart thing, and whether the boy uses it for his lies. 

Jaime says. “What am I, your personal calculator for AP Calculus?”

“Yes.” 

“No!” Jaime retorts, irritated. “What the hell, get serious Bart!”

“Alright, alright!” Bart tries to pacify. “Look, tomorrow I’m going with Barry to some conference. Nerd shit, I want to impress the people there so I’ve been trying out some stuff. I just wanna tune some parameters.”

“Since when have you ever wanted to impress anyone other than yourself… and Ed. And Barry. And-“ Jaime keeps listing offhandedly.

“Okay, I get it!” Bart blushes, brows furrowed in self-conscious irritation. “I crave validation sometimes, can we move on.”

“Well I told you to be serious with me!”

“I am!” 

“Fucking- “ He has nothing else to say other than to address the big fat elephant in the room and the biggest concern on his mind. “You promise you would tell me if it’s related to the Reach, related to your timeline, related to me?” Jaime asks desperately, tone shaky with anxiety.  

Eyes wide, the runner frowns with guilt. “I promise. Jaime, it’s got nothing to do with any of that. Honest.” He holds on to the older boy's arm, thumb rubbing it in reassurance.

Breathing a little heavy, he’s still dizzy from the Pavolovian stress that Bart would induce in him from back when the runner first joined the present. Jaime continues. “You wouldn’t hide anything crazy from me, would you?”

“Of course not, not when it matters.” The runner responds with all the sincerity in the world. 

Jaime’s pupils remain dilated with nerves. “So what’s- what’s the truth then, why do you need those parameters?”  

The runner let’s go of his friend. And with a calm pace of his heart, he says. “I told you, it’s just something lame I’ve been working on, I’ll even show it to you when it’s done.”

Jaime’s conflicted but ultimately- he trusts the other, probably a little too much for his own good. Not necessarily for his words, or his controlled heartbeat, but in his actions, his decisions.

Who is he kidding- 

“Fine. How would you wanna do it?”

And just like that Bart shines with his million-watt smile, ecstatic. “Seriously?! Okay, we should-“ Eyes flitting between the food and the living room. “-after meal time, they’ll pass out and we can run it there and then.”

“Okay.” Jaime agrees with a nod, returning back to his half peeled apple. And just for extra measure- “You’re seriously not hiding anything from me?”

Rushing to finish the sandwiches, Bart answers impatiently. “I mean, unless you wanna know about that thing Ed does with his fingers and-“

“Oh okay, you think you’re being funny now?” Jaime threats with the peeler. 

“So you don’t want to know about his killer card trick?” There's a glint in the runner's eyes, teasing as always. 

Chapter Text

“Barry? What are you doing here,” the velvet calm of a deep female voice breaks the blonde out of his trance of skimming through his lab reports, displayed across his computer screens, “aren’t you supposed to be taking the day off?”

“Good morning Detective!” Barry enthusiastically greets back, rolling his seat towards the entrance of his office. As the lead crime scene investigator of the CCPD, he gets an office of his own, supposedly making up for the ridiculous workload that comes with the senior position. 

The speedster has no idea how he’d have been able to even do this job without his speed. 

After dumping her bag, sunglasses and the rest of her belongings on top her own desk, Detective Burns, a lithe South-East Asian woman with a headstrong walk heads towards his office, entering after her courtesy knock to the already open door. 

“Just updating some reports,” he welcomes her with a friendly nod, “been waiting on these results for days now because of the backlog and Captain Coover wanted them on his desk by yesterday.” He confesses with an abashed wince, clicking away to save the files before he sends them off for printing.

“Morning submission to fake a late one of the night before, you lab geeks and your tricks.” She grins sharply, leaning against his desk as she diverts his attention with the rattle of the ice cubes in her takeaway coffee. “Should’ve told me you’d be here, I would’ve gotten you some iced coffee- 20 sugars, naturally.” Lips contorting as she tries to restrain her joking smirk over the reminder of Barry’s infamously diabetes-inducing tendencies. 

At the other end, from where the police lab connects to his office, the grind of plastic against tiles rolls towards the two, with a new face popping up into Barry’s room. “Hey, if Barry wants to die of a myocardial infarction then it is within his human right, this is the goddamn United States of America.” Says James, an African American junior CSI who had joined the team right before the start of summer.

“And good morning to you too.” Barry quips.

The younger CSI has said some variant of his joke enough times for the Detective to retort. “Just say heart attack like the rest of us, nerd.”

“Barry, do you see this shit? And it’s not even 9 yet.” James complains, voice overly laced with offence. “Workplace discrimination in broad daylight.” 

Rolling her eyes, Detective Burns, first name Nadia, continues to drink her own iced coffee. 

Trying to scoot past James, the runner heads to the printer at the corner of his now crowded room to collect his papers. As he flicks through them, Burns recognises one of the crime-scene photos.

“Is the Hudson case in there?” 

“Should be, yeah.”

“Anything for me to get a head start on Ulski?”

“Uhhhh-“ Barry fingers through the pages to find the right one, before skimming it once again. In the past five minutes he was practically updating 12 cases simultaneously, all of them mixing together at this point. “These are just the prelims, but it says here that blood on the scene of the victim’s scrapings belongs to a David Hudson, with DNA matching his sample in our database. Odds being 180 million to one that it’s anyone but Hudson.”

Nodding, she considers the information. “Okay, good. That’s really good. Motherfucker got off lucky from that false testimony, but not this time,” then, she adds somberly, “just wish it didn’t cost his wife her damn life.”

James is smart to decide against saying anything to rile her up this time. 

Caught up in her thoughts, Nadia clearly decides on something as she plays with her straw. “Hey listen, just hand them all over. I can sort the cases as I go through them and then I promise I’ll leave the files by Coover’s desk before he even gets here. It’s Tuesday, he’s got his morning Zumba classes.” 

The younger CSI hunches over with a poorly restrained snort, hand to his mouth in disbelief. “That can’t be true.” 

“It is.” Barry backs her up. “Saw him once on my morning commute.” 

At the time, he was actually on his way towards apprehending Heatwave from his attempt at vaporising the complete Bayfront of Central City. Seeing his Captain like that, in his Spanx, delayed the runner by a whole 5 seconds on his way to the fight. 

There are just some things that should quite simply, never be witnessed. 

“No way! How come nobody ever tells me things around here?” 

Snapping her fingers towards the young CSI in emphasis, Nadia snarks. “We just did genius, keep up.”

Barry responds to her prior offer. “It’s a lot Nadia, I don’t know if I can let you go through all this.” 

“Come on Allen! Today is literally your day off! This is going to take you forever, don’t be that kind of man to Iris.”

Which- ouch. 

Especially since he’s planning on spending over more than half his day away from home, indulging in his personal hobby.

-but hey, he’s going to be with Bart. Family bonding and all. Iris would be proud. Split-second worth of midlife crises averted, whew. 

And whilst it really wouldn’t take him any longer than half a minute’s worth of tame speed to sort through everything, she’s ultimately asking him this as a favour. He likes Detective Burns, she’s got a good head on her shoulders.

Also he can’t lie about the fact that he always get’s some second hand joy from her outperforming Detective Ulski, who for some reason has had a personal vendetta against him for the past decade. 

Handing them over to her, Barry grins. “Knock yourself out.”

With a celebratory smile, she happily accepts them. “Crash, and this is why you’re the best CSI ever.”

James doesn’t even take personal offence from the statement as he’s too excited to ask. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for an Outsider’s fan Nadia.”

Absentmindedly going through the pages Barry had just handed her, she replies. “The kid vigilantes? Please, vigilante justice is just another form of domestic terrorism period.” Earnestly, she then looks to the younger lab-tech to express her disdain. “They think they can dish out their own form of retribution, on what grounds?”

“Okay, but where does vigilantism start and end and the Flash begin?” James ponders with a hand to his chin, a comical quirk of his brow lacing his attempt at philosophy. 

“It doesn’t, civilians shouldn’t be unnecessarily putting themselves in harm’s way like that, regardless of whether they’re Outsiders or Leaguers.”

“Couldn’t you argue though that without them, even more civilians would be at risk? I mean just last night- 

Captain Boomerang made a re-appearance. 

Constantly escaping the Belle Reve Penitentiary on command of Amanda Waller for Task Force X, Barry can’t lie and say that he didn’t miss the times the task force would be doing its business literally anywhere else other than Central City. 

Because he really does not like dealing with this damn boomerang throwing asshole at all. 

If you’d ask him, Digger Harkness has the goofiest and arguably lamest gimmick among his gallery of villains. 

Boomerangs, really?

Objectively, it should be hilarious. And it would be, if they weren’t paired with an absolute nut-job. 

It’s not like the criminal is particularly powerful or anything. But his unpredictability- 

It’s unsettling.

Any time the hero has a nightmare involving one of his fights, Harkenss is there without question. Among the Rogues, he’s without fail among the most lacking in basic compassion. Uncaring for anyone other than himself.

Merciless, borderline psychotic. 

With last night’s attack on the city falling under the Suicide Squad division, consistently led by Black Manta, Kaldur, fresh from his month-long break, assisted Barry in dealing with the onslaught of attacks. Whatever diversion Harkness was supposed to execute thus wouldn’t succeed in its distraction.

But it was too close of a call, and the speedster can’t lie and say he didn’t sigh a breath of relief when Kid Flash came running in to assist. 

In the end, after a fight that really shouldn’t have gone on for as long as it did and with all the villains sped by the two runners right back to Belle Reve, and Aquaman bidding the two goodbye, Barry stopped the younger speedster from parting ways to pass on the details for the event. 

“9:45 sharp, do you hear me?” 

The younger vigilante just crosses his arms, judgement smeared across his face as he looks unimpressed towards the blonde.

Ignoring his own history of tardiness, the Flash stands up for himself. “Don’t give me that look! I’m going to be on time, I promise. Especially since there’s going to be a queue and we want the nice seats.”

Skeptically, Bart notes. “Tickets don't include seats? Gramps I’m afraid you got scammed.”

Rolling his eyes through his cowl, Barry points out. “It’s general admission.”

“Wow didn’t realise this Wells guy was such a superstar.” The brunette tries to mock, quickly sobering up upon the reminder that this was going to be the second time he’s attending a talk by the man. Bart might as well start a fan-club with his granddad at this point. 

Of course, Barry doesn’t even register the failure of the joke because he all too seriously agrees. “Not only is he a superstar, he’s the real deal. I can’t believe it’s happening tomorrow already,” Giddily, the older man continues, mumbling to himself, “I need to remember to bring my copy of his book with me.” Hearing his grandson take a few steps away from him to leave, he follows him along the hidden alley way. “Hey by the way, good work out there today Kid. Nice trick, knocking him out like that.”

And Bart just can’t help himself as he pouts to stop his cheeky grin from completely exposing how much he preens under the praise. The smile breaks through anyway. “Well you know,” he shrugs, “can never be too careful with the Harkness’s, always got some dick move up their sleeves one way or the other.”

“Oi, language.” Barry reprimands without bite, flicking the younger’s ear. 

And in that moment, as the sidekick retorts by cupping his ear protectively with a “Hey!” looking back up to his mentor with eyes of pure adoration and joy, the blonde thinks to himself, this kid’s heart is an open book.

And something very, very dear to him.

“Come here you!” He yanks the younger by the shoulder, who yelps at the action, ruffling his hair about. 

There wasn’t a moment where he noticed anything odd in the other runner’s choice of words.

“Anyway, what on earth would make you think I’m some kind of Outsiders fan?” Burns cringes.

“ ‘Crash’ ?” James finger quotes.  “And since you’re not some highschooler or someone who lives on the internet like yours truly, “ He takes a moment to say that proudly, “Detective James Forrest can only conclude that you’re a closet Outsiders fan, I rest my case.” 

“You haven’t met Barry’s kid yet, detective?”

“The twins? This is hardly a kindergarten friendly environment.” He pointedly looks towards the crime scene pictures of corpses displayed across the wall of the lab. 

“No, his other kid. Bart.”

“Barry, a secret kid? Didn’t take you for a playa man.” 

The speedster finally zips up his work bag, fully packed to dump back home on his way to the talk in Detroit.

“She means my nephew. He’s been coming by a lot this summer.” 

“He brings us donuts. Bless that kid.” Nadia briefly wonders off into a world of glazed treats.

“Donuts? What the hell, I’ve been here for two months already! Y’all really don’t tell me shit around here.” 

The bubble of a daydream is broken as she hits the CSI with a reality check of his own. “That’s cause you take the longest lunch breaks ever dude.” 

“A man needs to value his personal time.”

“At the cost of donuts.”

Barry consoles James. “Next time he’s on donut duty, I’ll be sure to let you know James.” 

Theatrically, the younger man sniffs. “You’re the only one who cares around here Allen. I’m gonna miss you, especially today of all days.”

At Burns’ questioning tilt of her head, James elaborates. “Harrison Wells is up in Detroit probably giving the talk of the century whilst I’m stuck here analysing boat sample algae slop all day.”

Unsure, she confirms. “Harrison Wells? The particle accelerator guy?”

It’s taking everything within Barry to not automatically word vomit about Well’s background and how his extension of the Standard Model in string phenomenlogy was groundbreaking in how it presents an alternative to-

“-the Minimal Supersymmetric Standard Model which is an extension of the Standard Model that realises supersymmetry, you see-“ James loses himself to his own explanation, but not before he’s stopped in his tracks.

“Yeah, no. I think I’m gonna file these over at my desk.” She then remembers the other plastic cup she brought over with her. “Here’s your coffee James, have fun with your… algae. Say hi to Iris and the twins from me.” And with that, she leaves the two. 

A moment passes as Barry pats his pockets and scans his desk to double check he’s not missing anything.

“It’s just you Barry, me, and my algae junk against the world now, huh.” James sighs, leaning against the door frame, still in his seat, as he slurps up his coffee. “Must suck knowing you have the day off whilst hot shit is going on over in Detroit. If I were you, I wouldn’t stop thinking about throwing thousands just to catch a flight over for even just 10 minutes of the talk.”

“Yeah, you and me both buddy. I’m so- gutted.” Barry tries to sell the act. Keyword, tries.

“Sucks to be you!” The younger man says through the straw of his drink. Then, as an afterthought he adds. “Hey, I was wondering if you had any idea who’s bankrolling his talk this time? Saw some forums mentioning Luthor, of all people- can you imagine?”

The blonde’s eyes almost bulge out of his head at just the thought of it. “Luthor?!”

“Just mindless chatter, the most convincing rumour is that it’s some loaded hedge-fund investor. The same one who funds Michael Holt."

As in-

“Bruce?” Barry lets slip, before realising that he supposedly doesn’t know the guy, at least as Barry Allen. “-Like Bruce Wayne?”

“Nah, some other loaded white guy. Though at this point, they’re all just one and the same really, aren’t they?” 

To which Barry simply shrugs with an appeasing nod. The most he knows is that it’s some quote, unquote, big shot with loads of cash, from Hartley of all people.

James adds. “Interesting though that this guy’s supposedly been funding the careers of arguably the top ten of STEM talent. Must have a good eye.”

Well, if I spot the guy there, I’ll let you know. Is what the speedster would say if he were advertising his plans of today. 

But he’s not, so he parts ways with a wave before jogging off all excited to the building’s elevator. 

It’s 10 in the morning, over in Detroit. 

And of course, Barry is late. As always. 

Which wouldn’t be the end of the world, if Bart hadn’t finished his three bags of snacks just waiting in this moded queue for the eternity that is 5 minutes. 

Yes, he factored in his mentor’s lack of punctuality. And even then, the guy is still making him wait.

And to top it all off, Ed was sleeping in today. They could’ve had the morning to themselves!

Instead, he’s stuck in a queue consisting of way too many old men, most of whom are balding, which by the way, the speedster means no disrespect by.

He’s claiming the “my childhood friend was some old bald guy” card, so he feels like he gets a free pass. 

The queue moves one step forward and with each passing thought, the unenthused frown spanning the runner’s face gets more pronounced by the second.

The pacing of two lab coats, deep in conversation and pausing some distance away from the waiting line, interrupts his impatient wallowing.

“I’m telling you Ivan, it’s missing! I checked all the records, inventory, every single log-file, it’s not adding up!” 

“We’ve been over this Olivia, your records are outdated, everything tracks in the lab. And security confirmed there was no breach. Cameras, sensors, this is S.T.A.R Labs for crying out loud, how the hell would a kilo turn into thin air?”

“Because it was taken, I don’t know! Why is that so difficult to believe?”

The taller man whips his head around to check for anyone listening in, he shushes her. “Listen, you’d be in a lot of shit for taking work home with you during your leave. It doesn’t matter if I believe you or not, because if you want to keep your job, you can’t afford to make a fuss over this hypothetical kilo when we work with metric tonnes of Nth metal by the hour. It’s easier for them to let you go over a breach in data and kicking up a fuss over this than it is for them to launch an investigation!”

“Are you hearing yourself? Do you-“

And off they go again. The runner wants to tail them, to see how worried he needs to be over covering his and the Legion’s tracks. Unfortunately, he made a vow to his fanboy of a grandfather over saving him a spot, and for some reason, that weighs on him as a higher priority in this moment than quite literally, his mission. 

Yes, he’s got his priorities all skewed. He’s only human after all.

Bart’s going to need to make a stop by the Legion’s loft after this dumbass talk ends. Get Imra to work her mind magic. Maybe he’ll aim for the lunch break, who knows how lucky he will get.

Another step forward- no scratch that. It was more like a quarter of a step. 

In fact, maybe a step back?

He might just pull his hair out at this point.

The Flash chooses that moment to show up, briskly walking right up to him as if he came here in a rush. “Sorry Kid, got held up at work.” 

But before the younger hero could get a word in after the dramatic roll of his eyes, the boy who’s been waiting right behind Bart all this time pipes up. 

“Hey man, some of us have been waiting here for hours you know!” A Puerto Rican boy with a mohawk, and a few inches shorter than Bart, complains. “Do you know what queues represent in the ecology of society?”

The young runner simply squints his eyes back at him in suspicion. “You’re literally standing right behind me, you couldn’t have been waiting here for any longer than 5 minutes.”

The blonde raises a brow at that, “I thought I told you 9:45 sharp?” 

“Yes Barry, I thought so too.” Bart pointedly counters, hands to hips daring the other to try him. 

With shifty eyes, the older Flash then decides in that moment that flicking through his book was of utmost importance, for some reason. 

Cisco takes the opportunity to respond. “It’s a matter of principal dude, queues symbolise social structure and order, a representation of a lawful and just society. Frankly, I think you two should head to the back.” He points with his thumb behind him. 

“What… that’s not true, there were plenty of queues in the-“ And Barry decides to interrupt him, blocking Bart’s face with his book. 

“Listen kid, I’m sorry for jumping the line. My nephew was just saving me a spot, I had to rush over here from work.”

Which pacifies the other a little as he slightly nods in understanding. “You work in like a hospital or something? Ending so early and all.”

“Nah, for the CCPD.” 

The latino tilts his head in confusion. “The Central City Police Department? And you just came back here in Detroit from work?” 

Bart quietly huffs as he closes his eyes at his granddad’s stupidity, trying his absolute best to not just fix the man with the biggest glare ever. For someone so invested in secret IDs, he sure could be trying harder. 

Clasping a hand up to the older speedster’s shoulder, Bart takes the lead. “Uncle’s got a bad case of workaholism. He’s got the day off but still attended his dumb remote meeting. Anyway, what are you doing here dude?”

“What does it look like man, waiting for the talk of the lifetime just like you and Mr Line-jumper over here.”

Taken aback, Bart looks genuinely bewildered. “Like- not against your will?” 

“Hey you said you wanted to come here!” The blonde interjects. 

“Dude, this is Harrison Wells we are talking about here. Thee Harrison Wells? The guy who contributed like the biggest advancement to string phenomenology since the proposal of the Standard Model? Using the computation power of syntropy is the next big thing, the future is so here and Wells is the one to lead it!”

“Right you are.” Barry beams, holding his book up to show it off to the other. “I’ve got the limited edition of his unedited manuscript right here, I’m going to get him to sign it!” 

Cisco holds onto Bart’s shirt as he stutters back in his steps, holding his hand to his chest. “Oh-oh my God.” He swallows in shock. “Is that really it?” He squeaks.

“Yes! I waited all night when it was auctioned! Cost me a heavy penny, but it was worth it. I can lend it to you if you like?” 

Bart blinks slow and heavily towards the other hero, dumbfounded. “Barry, you just met this guy.” 

“I-it’s okay.” Cisco shakes his head as he shifts from leg to leg, nervously rubbing his own hands to bring himself back to normality. “Honestly, I don’t think I’m brave enough to even hold it, I’m not gonna lie.” 

Barry waves the very different concerns of the two away. “No, no, I insist- what’s your name kid?”

“Cisco, Cisco Ramon.” The boy offers his hand for a handshake. 

Shaking it, the runner smiles brightly. “Nice to meet you Cisco. I’m Barry Allen, junior over here’s Bart.”

Nodding to Bart with a “ ‘Sup.”, the young speedster wordlessly returns the greeting with his own nod.

Kids… Barry looks to the two amused.

As he opens his book to show off to the other enthusiast his favourite chapter with the cool illustrations, the tickets fall out. 

Of course, the Flash doesn’t need to even blink as he catches them from their incredibly slow descent.

He tucks them back safely in the front end of the book. 

Animated wide eyes look to the two in shock. “Are those VIP passes?”

“What- “ Bart glowers with a moan in complaint to the older, “-we are staying here for the after party?” 

“The "all-you-can-eat dine and wine”, yes.” The taller man says with stubborn emphasis.

The auburn hair of the runner sways as he perks up from his slouch at the groundbreaking revelation of the open buffet. 

“That means- you’re going to meet him! What are you gonna say, do you have your words planned? Is it just me or is anyone else getting a heart attack over this?” Cisco pants in his overly excited chatter. 

“Hey calm down kid,” Barry says as he hands the boy a bottle of water that he seemingly manifested out of thin air. “Gotta stay hydrated for the talk, right?”

The shorter runner grumbles with crossed arms. “We’re gonna be sitting there for hours, what’s there to be hydrated for?” 

And before Bart could register that his not-uncle was ignoring him, after downing half the bottle, Cisco finally breathes in. “Thanks.” He clears his throat with a cough. “Sorry, I just- just the thought of getting the chance of meeting him, it’s just insane to me.” Playing with the label of the bottle, he continues. “I’ve already finished up all my paperwork for college applications. Mechanical engineering. Didn’t even write a second draft or anything, it’s like, the one thing in my life that I can be a hundred percent confident in, you know? And when I listen to someone like Harrison Wells talk? And that I can keep up with exactly what he’s saying, I just feel like, I’m actually someone, you know? Someone greater than just, Dante’s younger brother, or the football team’s towel boy. I’m someone with a purpose.” Puffing up his cheeks, Cisco suddenly gets incredibly embarrassed. “Sorry that was so unprompted, TMI.”

“Nah,” Barry takes a step to hold him by the shoulder, “I know exactly what you’re talking about.” And with his face of pure understanding, Cisco recognises the sincerity behind it. 

“Tell yah what kid, let’s make dreams come true.” And with that, Barry hands his side-kick his book as he slips out his phone from his jacket pocket. Tapping away, the ring of a confirmed purchase sounds out of the device’s speakers. He then shows the other boy a QR code. “Scan this, so you can download the pass.”

“Whaaa?” Cisco looks at him in dumbfounded disbelief.

 “VIP tickets, you’re going to join us.” He clarifies, still holding up his phone.

“Stop playin’, I- I don’t have the money man, I won’t be able to pay you back!” The teen tries to explain.

“It’s a gift, from one fan to another.” Barry emphasises with genuine eyes.

Shaking his head, Cisco reiterates. “No, I don’t think I can accept this.”

Dropping his arm, Barry says. “Listen, I wasn’t kidding earlier. I know exactly what you’re going through, what it means to love all this, for it to be your whole life. The significance of these kind of opportunities to kids like you or me when I was younger. ”

Bart butts in, fixing his eyes to the other boy. “Dude, just scan it, he’s not gonna take no for an answer anyway.” 

As if any second longer, the ticket would disappear, Cisco fumbles out his phone to hurriedly scan the code. “I can’t believe this, oh my God.” He exclaims as he scrolls, finally seeing the ticket on his own phone. “Thank you so much!” He expresses with a lot of emotion, “I can’t believe this is actually happening! You just became my new all time favourite hero Barry!” 

And the two speedsters really can’t help themselves, as they turn to share a knowing look.

“-sorry Zatanna, you will always be in my heart.” The boy adds on wistfully.

To which Bart snorts, “Zatanna’s your fave?” 

“Well- Cyborg’s been the GOAT on my list for a while now- you know, he was in my football team!” The other beams proudly.

“The Henry Heywood High Steelworkers, right?” Bart recalls from his conversations with Vic.

“Yes! You heard of ‘em?”

“Been to a few of your games.” He confirms, thinking back to when the Outsiders would attend to support Vic in his final years of high-school. Now the matches have moved to college.

“All the way from Central City?” Cisco gasps in surprise.

“Yeah…” Bart cringes at his own slip up, he’s as bad as his granddad. “I just love… ball…. so much. Booyah.” He explains weakly.  

Lucky for him, Cisco is too in love with Zee to notice anything as he moves on. “Anyway, back to Zatanna. She’s like the Princess Leia to my Han Solo.”

With finger guns, the brown haired runner is about to blow everyone’s minds with how he gets the reference. “Ahh, Lord of the Rings.”

Incredulous, borderline personally offended, the shorter boy corrects him. “What?! No, Star Wars! Where’ve you been man?”

Barry butts in. “So you like your heroes, huh?”

“Yeah, they’re pretty crash what can I say.” 

This guy is talking his language Bart notes happily. He’s been noticing more and more kids saying it these days. Virgil jokes sometimes that as Kid Flash he’s been brainwashing generations of people with his slang. 

“That- that means cool by the way.” The boy clarifies to them. 

“So I’ve been told.” The older runner says heavily, not at all disguising his glance to the younger speedster. 

“And Zatanna, like whew. “ He adds a whistle to his description. “Crazy talented, crazy capable, and crazy hot and beautiful, am I right?” 

Bart confirms, “Yeah she’s cool, powerful, compassionate, she is pretty crash.

Excitedly, Cisco says. “When I was a kid, our parents took us to one of her shows with her dad, The Great Zatara. To this day I still can’t believe I’ve witnessed real magic like that, up close, in person.”

The runner can’t help himself. “You know, I’ve met her too.” 

“Bart.” Barry quietly warns through his teeth and furrowed brows.

“Seriously?!” The other boy lights up at the statement.

With a flick of his wrist, the speedster tries to play it off casually- which when it comes to him, always comes out overly cocky. “Yeah, we are practically besties.”

And with how these things consistently end, Barry gives him the eye as he nudges at his grandson a little too forcefully. “He’s just joking.” He clarifies, trying to salvage the completely unnecessary turn of conversation Bart has decided to steer them towards. 

Misunderstanding, Cisco deflates, by habit assuming that the other teen was making fun of his enthusiasm. Rubbing his neck self consciously, he tries to brush it off. “Yeah, haha. Very funny.”

Not understanding what he’s done wrong, Bart is about to express his confusion before Barry then reveals. “You know Cisco, I was probably the biggest Flash nerd out there as a kid- still am, in fact.”

Almost reluctantly, Cisco bites the bait. “For real?” He responds with a small smile. 

“For real.” The blonde validates. “Had all his collectibles, his comics, heck- I even own lost media on the guy! A feature film from the 50s that probably no one else on this planet has seen beyond me and Joa- me and his family.” He not too smoothly corrects towards the end.

“Wait- what?” Bart interrupts in surprise, holding his grandfather by the arm to face him. “You guys never told me about this. Jay was in a movie?”

“Yeah, it’s titled “New Frontier”.” And with his knowing smile, Barry’s obviously encouraging him to ask Jay about it. “ ‘Jay Garrick, stranded in the Arctic and time is running out, and along the way, he meets five mysterious women’ .” He quotes the trailer from memory. 

And before he can think twice about it Cisco says, “That sounds like the plot to a bad porn-“ Before self-consciously shutting himself up as he realises what he was about to say. 

Bart bursts into laughter, arms around his stomach, because the thought of just everything about it had to be the funniest thing he’s heard within the past few weeks.

“Yeah, uh- there was an interview or something where he said that his wife would never let him hear the end of it, she thought it was hilarious too.” Barry says as he looks down affectionately to his barking grandson. 

“You really are a database of all things Flash.” Cisco shakes his head in awe of the blonde, before asking. “What are your thoughts on the 21st century running man then?” 

“The second Flash?” To which Bart finally collects himself to listen in, wiping a stray tear from his fit of laughter. “He’s- yeah he’s not bad. Nothing beats the original though.” Barry answers wholeheartedly with a humble shrug, before elbowing the younger Flash with a smile. “Right Kid?” 

And in that moment, there’s truly nothing more sobering than simply the raw thought of his guardian.

Jay Garrick, the man that he’d wake up to for a morning hug. Who at night, every now and then, thinks that Bart will simply never be too old to get tucked in to bed. 

The young runner is inclined to agree, just at the reminder of how comfortably warm he feels in those moments. 

It’s a cocktail mess of feelings as Bart agrees from the bottom of his heart. “There’s truly no one like the OGs.” As a legacy act himself, to Wally of all people, he would know out of experience. Looking back up to his mentor though, where green eyes meets blue, his neutral face of a heavy heart morphs into a proud smile. “Though I guess the second Flash has his moments, he’s the childhood hero of the new generation after all.”  

At the praise, Barry gathers the younger into a pleased but clumsy side-hug, of which Bart cherishes every second. 

He doesn’t think other’s could ever understand how much he simply melts into skin-contact. A seemingly inexpensive currency of the present, Bart had never realised when he was younger how much he craved what feels like nourishment for the heart.

“That, he is.” Barry brazenly replies.

Slapping himself in the forehead, Cisco realises. “You’re from Central City! No wonder you guys are die hards. Though I gotta admit, it’s hard not to think that speedsters are among the coolest heroes out there.” 

Rubbing his nape, Barry grins modestly.

“Eh, I don't know.” Having removed himself from the other, Bart says as he crosses his arms in deep thought. “I’ve always been more of an El Dorado fan-“ Spreading his arms wide, he emphasises with a smirk. “You know, cause of his maaassive-“

Eyes wide, Barry looks constipatedly red as he’s about to give Bart the dressing down of his lifetime.  

“-heart.” The auburn-haired runner concludes, hands landing over each other above his own beating chest, eyes blinking to complement his pretentiously angelic expression. 

Completely missing the turmoil that was about to boil over between the two in front of him, Cisco says pensively. “E.D.? Yeah, he does good work over at the Meta-Human Youth Centre. Can’t fault the guy there.“

“Facts.” Bart backs him up with closed eyes in agreement, pointedly ignoring the older Flash’s glare.

“Look, like thats my Argentinian brother right there, but from what my friends say he’s a bit- with the whole Spike Spiegel thing he’s got going on and his work, I guess I can’t blame the Outsiders’ girl’s for being all over him. Must be nice.” Cisco sighs.

“Oh they’re just all just really good friends.” Bart purposely clarifies, “He mentored Windfall over at the MHYC.”

Cisco just nods. 

“I mean him and KF are obviously, you know- like best friends or something.” Bart rambles as he forcefully shrugs and looks away a little too casually, fidgeting with Barry’s book, still in his hands.

“Seriously?” The other boy couldn’t have made his disbelief more obvious. “I’m not so sure about that dude. I feel like KF’s a bit too much of a jock for them to genuinely get along.”

“What!” Bart pitches with whiplash that would’ve broken literally anyone else’s neck. “Hey, I’ll have you know-

“I’ve seen the Flitter compilations dude, guy thinks he’s a class clown. Like half the time he barely makes any sense. Peak dumb jock energy.” 

With unamused eyes and flat lips, Bart looks completely defeated in the face of Cisco’s parasocial interpretation of him. 

Barry’s trying real hard to bite back a snort, looking everywhere and anywhere else to preoccupy himself as he raises his hand to help cover the mirth showing on his face.

“He’s lucky he’s got the speed and heroics, and I guess the looks. I mean there’s gotta be something that makes all the girls in my class love him. And the reporters- that’s another thing, like is that a pre-requisite to being KF, ‘cause he’s constantly flirting with them.” 

“He’s literally just talking to them.” Bart says through his gritted teeth. And with renewed vigour, he practically word vomits. “Personally-” He starts, over enunciating, “I think KF and E.D are inseparable, like, they literally can’t quit each other, you feel me? Like he, can’t quit him. They’re literally always all over-“

And before Bart can continue with starting rumours on his own homosexuality, Barry intervenes. “Yeah, okay. Let’s all take a step back and not assume things on people we don’t personally know. I think we need to respect the private lives of these people who at the end of the day put their lives on the line for us, no?”

Nodding in agreement, Cisco sees where he’s coming from. “True, true.”

Bart simply humphs in indignance. 

“Anyway, back to he Flash.” The blonde starts again.

The young Puerto Rican belts a laugh. “Wow, you really are a Flash fanatic.”

“Tell me about it, can’t take this guy anywhere.” Bart murmurs, still caught up in the conversation they just left hanging.

“Have you ever met him? Like in person? The same way I saw Zatanna?” Cisco asks with curiosity.

Holding his hand up midway, Barry excitedly sets the scene. “It was 1999-“

The younger Flash groans, how many times has he heard this story. 

“-he had just finished saving the City Hall from a fire and I was on my way to my Pathology class nearby. I was a College Sophomore at the time.” Barry recounts with bright nostalgia. “Jay was surrounded by so many civilians, he decided out of the goodness of his heart to have a meet and greet there and then! And boy, when it was my turn- I don’t know if he could tell the kind of diehard fan that I was or-“

Bart thinks back to the after dinner conversations his family would countlessly have about this moment. It’s got to be the old man nature in both Jay and Barry, but they just can’t get enough of that story. 

To be fair, something tells him that there would be a pretty high chance Bart wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for that fated encounter. 

So if he had to hear how Jay had recognised the pure hearted sincerity behind Barry’s fanaticism for the millionth time, so be it. 

“-but we ended up talking for hours, about how he got his powers, his background, his life story. Most incredible moment of my youth, honestly- well, besides meeting my wife of course.” 

“That’s insane.” Cisco reveres. “If something like that ever happened to me, I think- it’d change my life.”

“It did. I can’t overstate this enough, but it was life changing. In ways, you probably can’t even imagine. I wouldn’t be the man I am today if it weren’t for that single moment.” 

An announcement suddenly interrupts the conversation.

“Apologies for the delay! Both our QR scanners broke, so we had to grab a technician. Luckily S.T.A.R Labs has those in abundance!” 

After the overly polite background laughter of the queue, the event organiser continues. “So we are all good to go, let’s make history today everybody!”

And as everyone cheers in excitement, Bart realises that this was one of those rare moments where he truly felt like the only completely normal person in the crowd. 

As they all start to waddle forward, Cisco asks Barry. “So how could I make today my life-changing moment? I mean, you already blessed me with the VIP pass man, I don't know how many more miracles I can take.” 

Truthfully, the speedster responds. “You’ve got a lot of potential kid, anyone who’s capable of recognising it can tell. Just have faith in yourself, and it’ll happen before you even know it.” 

Flushed by the sincere support from the other, Cisco nods as he absorbs the words.

“Yeah alright Batman and Robin, let’s get a move on, my God.” Bart fusses as he pushes the two to walk faster. No wonder Barry’s secret ID remains as such. The man chooses the worst moments to move as slow as shit. There’s just no way this guy could be the Flash.

In fact, if The Turtle knew how slow his speedster nemesis really was in his day to day life with some things, they’d genuinely be best friends.

His complaints land on deaf ears because Cisco decides to continue with his game of 20 questions. “So how is Jay Garrick as a person? I don’t know much about him, but for a 90 year old he seems pretty alright.”

“He’s the coolest.” Barry proudly confirms. “Think, effortlessly inspiring like Spencer Tracy meets the personification of kindness.”

“I’m gonna pretend I know who that is.” Cisco shrugs.

“He’s the kind of guy who’s just always there for you, always there to lend you an ear-“

-with an open heart, Bart can’t help but mentally add. Who gives you his 100% to let you know that he’s paying attention, and that he loves you. 

So much. 

The young runner blinks the moisture in his eyes away, rubbing at them before they could become anything else.

What is wrong with him lately? Nothing is even happening, he might as well tear up at the sight of a pebble. He can barely even remember the last time he’s cried as much as he has in the past week alone. 

It’s not normal. 

There must be something wrong with him.

The loss of Joan and Wally had hurt him so much, it really did. But what is essentially the continued erosion of a dulled edge from the overexposure of loss as a child has made him deaf to the volume of such pain. As though the sounds of grief were nothing but muted murmurs. 

But the past week alone, everything had just been so- loud. 

Excessively noisy, and painfully overwhelming. 

Bart had only ever felt like that when- 

He’s been thinking way too much about his past recently, and he’s over it. It was just another chapter to his life, there really isn’t anything deeper to it.

With a shake of his head and hands in his pocket, he trails behind the two in front of him as they finally get their tickets scanned.

“Enjoy the talk!”

Chapter Text

“So by defining it using the temporal transition arrays and their partials, you can relate things in such a way just by validating the upper rank of their reductions. And the use of Heisenberg’s picture allows the entanglement and functions to be connected and support the previous relation. Does this answer your question?”

“Absolutely! Excellent, thank you for your time today Dr. Wells!”

With Harrison’s parting words, the event ends, and the crowd erupts into an enthusiastic cheer of applause. Starry eyed, Barry is awestruck as he stands up alongside everyone else to clap in support of the bespectacled man before them. 

“Incredible stuff! Isn’t that right Bar-“ He turns to his grandson in his excitement.

Who’s found right down beside him to his left, passed out against his seat with sprawled limbs, head flopped over, dangling to the back as he’s knocked out in sleep. 

“Bart!” Barry whispers loudly, making a poor attempt to wake the younger up, tone undeniably laced with offence. With a deep sigh, he slouches as he momentarily wallows. “… Not again.”

To the left of Bart, Cisco who’s also standing to cheer for Wells, looks over. “Why did you even bring this guy Barry? He knocked out like ten minutes in.”  

“Family bonding.” The blonde reasons weakly, before deciding to stir the other awake by repeatedly tapping his forehead.  

Brows furrow in complaint as Bart finally blinks himself back to consciousness. “Huh? What’d I miss?” He slurs, sleep still colouring his voice. 

Sitting himself back down beside the other, Cisco fixes him an exasperated look. “Dude, like- everything.” 

Honesty might as well be his middle name, with how the speedster sighs in relief. “Oh, thank God.”

The older Flash tries to give him the benefit of the doubt though. “Did you catch the bit on KERN deploying the model? That was pretty fun.”

“I still can’t believe we got to witness that! Mind’s officially blown.” Cisco answers with all the enthusiasm in the world, in place of the other boy, who in the meantime is still rubbing his eyes awake.

With a yawn, Bart finally responds. “ ‘Corn’ ? Like, candy corn?”

Barry feels a bitter sense of victory at exhibit number #523 proving his point against Jay’s suspicions from last week’s barbecue. Beyond Bart’s strangely good grades in his AP Physics and Maths classes, the boy couldn’t obviously care less about all this. 

He know’s his grandson alright. 

Cisco reiterates his previous point with a questioningly unimpressed expression. “Dude, what are you even doing here?”

The speedster leans towards the other, to share his secret. “Young man, one never says no to free food.” Bart over enunciates in a pretentiously deep voice, before his face turns overly self-impressed. “Yoda said that.”