I'm slightly growing attached to the new universe… but I liked it better when little Dicky was the youngest on the team, physically in appearance. I loved how he used to have to hop up on his toes… how he'd get so easily jealous… how bromantic he was… I miss his word play and how generally sweet he was. I miss the moments between him and Wally, the ones that would make me squeal into my hands because no one around me understands what's so adorable about two guys flirting… which is why I typed a completely irrelevant story all about Wally, derived from "Bloodlines".

Disclaimer: The ribbon on my wrist says 'Do not open before Christmas', but the odds of me owning the show by the time the first snowflake falls is highly unlikely.

Before history was even a concept able to comprehend, kids have always had common interests that they fail to share with their parents and older siblings. As the decades and centuries crawl by, each interest is horribly mutilated and morphed into something else that the people from the past times never would have guessed would take over anyone's main interest. Of all the changing interests though, one general idea has been categorized as a favorite for kids of all sorts:

Games.

It's so vague in its make-up, able to refer from anything to simple backyard tag to taking a drill to someone's temple and lightly revving it as a warning to get them to do what you want them to. They can be on board or screen, with words or fingers, of mind or of body, consisting from an audience of a million to one. The age of the kids obsessed in such activities range from the mindsets, but most people never switch off from them.

No one ever wants to stop being a kid. When you're older and all the innocence is gone from the world, all of the sparkles in people's eyes just become reflections and the smiles on their faces are just muscles. The way the water sparkles when you have your arm around the one that makes your heart beat fast, their hair aglow in a halo around their face as you lean in, your lips just barely brushing in a way that turns both of your faces to a light pink is but the sunlight shining over your world.

Most people prefer the innocence and beauty of the world, even after they've been ruined to all of the horrors that it consists of by a murder, a divorce, a loss or even something like a broken heart. When your first pet runs away because you leave the front door open isn't exactly a moment of pure ecstasy for you. If you find something to distract yourself from the fear and pain, kind of like a tourniquet in theory, you can stay a child and happy when you actually try to.

Back when muscles were just the bulges in his uncle's arm, Wally called his hero role a game.

In his once innocent emerald eyes, that's all it really was to him. Donning a suit and playing dress-up with a bunch of other kids, acting as if they aren't who they are, going out and saving the world with the tedious strain and danger that would always await them. The only thing that kept him sane was the fun that came with collecting souvenirs from each little play date, but he eventually ran out of room on the shelves and in his heart.

In other words, he grew up.

His costume was stripped off, folded neatly and hidden at the back of his closet beneath the clothes that had fallen from their hangers without any further attention. Many had tried to convince him to put it back on and to keep playing with them, but he wanted to focus on his developing love life and finishing school so he could actually become something in the future.

"Being a hero is something!" his best friend had brought up in one of their many arguments over the subject, the older ebony desperate for his friend's return.

He had always insisted it wasn't though. It was nothing but child's play, minus the homicidal Good Boy doll, with no other purpose besides that of entertaining the public with drama and fear that could just as easily be resolved by disbanding the heroes entirely. Without heroes to fight them, villains have no cause in this world and they'd eventually grow tired of always winning. Their damage could be fixed just as easily by a fleshed hand than a gloved one.

It went like that for years, everyone else giving up on him besides his girlfriend and his best friend. Artemis never bugged him about rejoining the team though, seeing that she had retired early with him, but Dick never gave it a rest. When they hung out, he'd beg at least once to have his best friend serving beside him again, but his pleas would always fall on deaf ears and blind eyes. He'd never get his wish, a thought Wally was positive would last for the longest time.

He never counted on the phone ringing.

The second he touched the phone to his ear, the conversation flowing fast, he could feel himself start to age backwards. By the time he hung up, he had his Hot Wheels in hand and gleaming sparkles in his eyes, jacket slid over his shoulders. The caller's voice in his ears still, he tore through the night with the speed he had sworn he would've outgrown from years of abandonment. He wasn't as fast as he had been before, something he expected, but he did have a bit of speed to his feet which was quite the relief to him.

The second Wally stepped inside his aunt and uncle's house, he felt his heart sink to his feet, weighed down from the sadness that tagged along with realizing Dick hadn't lied about what would be awaiting him. And he wasn't referring to the future boy hugging his family members excitedly. It was the banner, strung across the air announcing how long his grandparents had been together that truly made his heart catch a spark and turn into a smoldering pile of ash.

It was more than just a banner, in his mind at least. It was a promise, one made the day his grandparents officially became married with a touch of their lips, one that was kept this long. It was a haunting reminder of how his parents had broken their promise, how they'd never have such a banner across the living room of their broken homes that he'd never have to see again. They'd never hold such grins in regards to the rings they had long ago sold. The presence of the new boy wasn't much of a help either though.

Now I know how Dick feels… with the whole Jason and Tim thing… am I being replaced?

He tried not to focus on that, joining his uncle and the boy from the future out on the battlefield like he had in before times, lacking the nostalgic feeling that he thought would've hovered over such a situation. Instead, he was given more and more reasons to despise the spandex skin he now bore, longing more than anything to go back to retirement as he found the one younger than him lapping him near as fast as his uncle regularly did. The official reason came when the newest addition to the Flash family opened his smirk.

"You don't have the Allen family eyes."

Six words and one contraction had never had quite the effect on him, chilling him right to the core with a cold scowl. This scowl was the first of its kind, far stronger than any he had ever had to offer, even to those with hearts near as chilled as the earth beneath the ice layering at the poles with intentions of nothing short of lethal proportions. Inside the gloves, his fingers curled tight enough to suffocate the air between them, a slight tremble resulting from the pressure.

The wounded eyes, marred enough from seeing the household before, were now cruel in their narrowance, the full wrath of his fury for no one beside this kid beside him on the field. The world around him was but a distant blur, an agonizing throb to the color, the auburn-haired boy the only thing relatively visible.

Before he even dared to open his own lips in a retort, he imagined his voice would be an angry growl, cutting it close to a bloodthirsty roar of a territorial line who wanted to protect what he had. That's how he felt, after all. He was the sidekick to the Flash. There was no replacement for him. Instead though, his voice came out in a pained tone, only a bit of the intended anger just bordering the edges of his syllables.

"Don't make me hurt you."

Wally nearly winced at the voice he heard from his own lips, questionably glancing down at his lips, catching sight of the freckles as he did with a pained sigh. He cursed their existence, only making his lack of last name that much more obvious. He wasn't an Allen, and he never would be, but they had raised him ever since his real last name had given up all hope on him. Barry and Iris had taken over has his parents, giving him a home and a place to believe for what had seemed like the longest time.

They were more than just family! They were occupants of his heart, people to fill the emptiness his parents had burrowed, and at the reminder, he felt more alone than he ever had. This suit was just that, a new skin to wear while he was locked outside to play with his 'friends' until the adults were done doing what they needed to. The only difference now was that he was alone outside and there was no one to go back in to see.

I've had this sitting around a while, but I never found the words to finish it. This is the best I can offer, and I once again offer apologies for the majority of this. It's beyond overdue and I incredibly messed it up. Review if you want, it'd be nice. Or not you know.

-F.J.