A Brother Born (in time of Need)

It had been a long time since a place had felt as safe as the room at Joe's. He'd spent most nights at the hospital, or in his car, while his mom was sick, lost the apartment. And then the dorm had gotten too expensive, and while he had friends with couches he could crash on, it was nice to have his own place again, solid, sturdy, something that could be a Home.

It hadn't lasted more than a day, and even back under the weight of quilts, he shivered. He'd always been prone to nightmares, never could sleep easy, but now it was worse than dreaming of car crashes or a hospital monitor flatlining.

He could still feel the cold metal of a shackle around his wrist, the chilled cement floor numbing him, seeping up through worn-thin pants and a coat that wasn't strong enough to keep out fear. Terror, or maybe just the dream, please God it had to be a dream he couldn't be back in that cage, glued his mouth shut, the only sound tapping. Taptap pause taptaptaptaptap pause. Tap pause tap pause. Taptaptaptap pause Taptaptaptaptap. It echoed, echoed, echoed like an erratic heartbeat and stuttered breath. Under it all was the bone jarring buzz of the man in black, skittering with blue lightning and demon eyes.

Wally closed his eyes tight. Dream dream dream wake up wake up but nothing shifted. Nothing changed. Had he hallucinated? Maybe—maybe he'd never seen his dad and sister guns raised, never seen the man in Red bow his head and Agree maybe he would die here. What was he to the Flash? What was he to anyone?

The Blue-Black creature moved closer, his words guttural. "It seems I was wrong. No one cares enough. In that case—" and lightning flashed and blazed in his hands. Wally wanted to scream, tried to scream, tried to roll away, but then there was a hand holding his shoulder, warm and—

"Wally," a familiar voice croaked as Wally's eyes wrenched open, taking in a lit room, overhead light blazing. He was in his bedroom, a wall hastily painted over and still smelling of new paint and charred plaster, not the cell, not the cage. Barry, looking haggard, was crouched beside him, eyes hectic. "Are you—you were screaming—I…" He hesitated. "Sorry if I startled you, but I thought you might have been in trouble."

Wally curled into a sitting position, one hand wrapped around his other wrist, reassuring himself that there was only flesh. He couldn't help the scoff. "And you were gonna save me?" Barry, lanky and awkward and first to run from danger? Except—except he'd burst in here, not even armed. Wally regretted the words when he saw the way Barry's shoulders fell.

"I…" Barry trailed off.

"It was—just a nightmare. 'M sorry, I didn't mean-" Wally murmured awkwardly, shifting. He'd called Barry a coward, spat that in his face, but Barry had just tried to save him. If it had been the Lightning Man—Zoom, his dad had called him—they'd both be, well, probably dead. But Barry'd come anyway.

The older man nodded softly. "If you want to talk about it. I know it's…easier, to keep it bottled up. But it's better to get it out. I get them too."

Wally remembered a conversation, seemingly years ago. "Your...mom, right?" he asked. Somehow, it was easier in the warmly lit room, at the unholy hour before dawn, sweat-soaked sheets still tangled around his legs, to speak. Barry hesitated, then shook his head.

"Zoom. He almost killed a woman I once dated."

"The Flash saved her?" Wally asked. When Barry looked startled, Wally shrugged. "I read my sister's stuff. It's, like, half of what she writes. I guess that's why he took me. He said, the Flash cared about someone who cared about me, but there's not exactly a long list there." Barry reached out a hand, and Wally flinched as it landed on his arm, but continued, slowly. "I still don't understand, though. Nothing in this city makes any sense, but—I just don't understand. Why would he—" from the corner of his eye, Wally saw Barry flinch, his face crumple, but went on "Why would he do that for me?"

Evidently, it was not the question Barry had been expecting. "What?"

"The Flash. He didn't even hesitate. He just—gave that thing his speed, for me. I'm nobody. I'm just a dumb kid who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, happened to be related to a journalist girl Flash probably felt like he owed, and now he's…" Wally trembled. "Why would he do that?"

He was so lost in repeating the question to himself, he almost missed the answer. It was soft, almost as if it hadn't been meant for him to hear, but there it was all the same.

"I couldn't let you die, Wally." Barry shifted his position, moving from the floor to sit on the edge of the bed. "I couldn't let him hurt you."

"What?"

Barry's lips quirked, a half smile, sardonic and sad. "Joe didn't want me to say anything. Wouldn't let me tell Iris, but—well, she figured it out. I guess it doesn't really matter anymore, and you deserve to know the truth." He took a breath. "Two and a half years ago, I was struck by lightning. It changed me, and now I am—" he cut himself off, then squared his shoulders. "I was the Flash."

Wally stared, warring with confusion, gratitude, guilt. Before he could say anything, Barry spoke again.

"Zoom was wrong. I didn't do it because I cared about someone who cares about you. I couldn't let anyone else I cared about, any more of my family, get hurt. If I could stop it, I had to. And I'd do it again, in a heartbeat." Silence settled over the pair, a prickly wool blanket, heavy and uncomfortable. Barry chewed his lip. "I understand if you hate me. I wasn't exactly welcoming, and I got you into this mess, and—I can go, I'll go, I—just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"No, wait," Wally said. "I wasn't the nicest either. I didn't understand. Jo—Dad, told me some, but I—I felt like I had to compete against years of memories and I couldn't and—wait. Family?"

"It's more than blood. Joe took me in, didn't legally adopt me, but he was my foster dad. Makes us brothers. I lost my family young, so—when you have it, you hold on, you know? I couldn't save my mom, couldn't save my dad, but Joe, and Iris, and you…" Barry eased to his feet, and Wally noticed how pale he really was, not just as a white guy, but the kind of pale that came from sickness, weakness, lack of sleep. It wasn't just shadow that left dark smudges under his eyes, ringing his neck. He'd done that for him.

"I don't think I can sleep anymore," Wally muttered as Barry made to leave. "I'm gonna see if Dad got more hot chocolate mix. If you want?"

Barry smiled, weary, but genuine, and led the way down the stairs.