Summary: Claire Cambrion - tutor by day, vigilante by night, and always careful to make sure the two never mix. Until the Batman sinks his claws into her, and the line between Claire and Hellfire blur into nothingness. OC/Wally West.

Masked Vigilante in Central City - Friend or Foe?

Claire eyed the newspaper headline with distaste. She hadn't meant to be caught on camera, honest. It just happened - some guy in the right place at the right time. The author was rather neutral, she admitted. The article had stated nothing but the facts, outlining what the 'masked vigilante' had done, quoted a few eyewitnesses, and then pondered if it was the rise of Central City's own Batman.

She snorted. She certainly wasn't the second coming of the Batman - Claire didn't go to Gotham often, maybe once a year to visit her great aunt, but when she did, she was usually bombarded with new of Batman constantly. Joker, Scarecrow, Riddler, Penguin, some muscle head named Bane. And Batman handled it all, with his trusty sidekick at his side.

Claire could handle a few robberies and some idiot thugs, but mass murders spewing riddles and laughing gas? No. She'd leave that to the Flash, Central City's superhero that she had yet to run into. She didn't know if that was a good or bad thing.

"Anything interesting?"

Elena Cambrion was a beautiful woman, something Claire always envied. Blonde, blue-eyed, perfect height - Elena was the thing of magazine covers. She was also a top notch journalist.

"Read your article," Claire grinned, turning the paper around so her mom could see the front page. The 'masked vigilante' had been caught on camera mid transformation, her skin caught between actual skin and rock. Claire always hated using the Earth element, mostly for vanity's sake. The element itself was extremely stubborn, so Claire only used it when she needed block something big or explosive. In the case of last night, when the picture had been taken, Claire had used it to block a bomb from going off in her face. Generally, she prefered fire. "It was really good."

"You think so?" Elena asked, pleased. She'd retired from journalism when she'd gotten pregnant with Claire, happily taking to the life of a housewife. Until last year when her husband, Michael Cambrion, drove himself off a bridge. "It's my first front-page," she said, even though they both knew.

Daniel was a family friend from Elena's college days, and also the Editor and Chief of Central City's top newspaper. He'd been more than happy to give Elena back her job, but he'd taken it slowly. So slowly, in fact, that Elena had been stuck reporting about Central's Elite and whatever drama they got up to.

"That's awesome, mom," Claire put the newspaper down, knowing her mom would want to look at it some more. "Maybe you can talk Daniel into giving you exclusive with her," she continued, tipping her chin at the picture to clarify the 'her.' She glanced at the clock hanging on the wall and wrinkled her nose. "I gotta get going," she sighed, picking her backpack up from off the ground and swinging it over her shoulder.

"What, why?" Elena looked at the backpack in confusion, "Claire, it's Sunday, silly, you don't have school." Claire gave her a look that clearly read 'yes, mom, I know that.'

"I told you, Principal Stacy asked me to take on another kid to tutor, and we agreed on Sundays."

"Oh," Elena, blinked, obviously surprised by the news. Claire actually hadn't told her, mostly because she'd been too busy. School was hard enough as it was, not to mention tutoring, and then she'd gone and added vigilate'ing it up around Central. But Elena didn't know that, and things would go smoother if she thought Claire had told her and then she'd just forgotten. "Well, have fun."

"So much fun," Claire snarked, finger waving at her mom as she skipped out the front door of their apartment. The walk to school wasn't very difficult - her apartment building was only a block away, and the weather was nice. Claire smiled, tucking her bangs behind her ear, fingers catching on the leg of her glasses.

They were a new edition she hadn't quite gotten used to, yet. She prefered contacts, but they ones she normally used had started to irritate her eyes. So, glasses. Her friend, Becky Waters, thought they were adorable. But Becky didn't have to wear them, so Becky didn't get a say.

Central High's library was open on Sundays specifically for tutoring sessions. There were always at least two teachers there as volunteers to keep an eye on everything, and the librarian. Mr. Marks, her AP Lang teacher, was most often than not one of the volunteer teachers, with Mrs. Van Hol and Mr. Krauss rotating.

"Oh, Claire! I wasn't expecting you this week," Mr. Marks called, a smile on his face. Claire smiled back, hiking her backpack farther up her shoulder.

"Yeah, I got a new student," she shrugged, "For Latin," she clarified. It was surprising, really, that someone taking Latin needed help - the class was full of honor roll students, and she couldn't see any of them risking their GPA on something as stupid as Latin.

"Really? Well, sign in with Ms. Addams, and she'll tell you what table you're at," he told her, waving at the Checkout desk. Claire nodded, giving him one last smile.

She signed in with Ms. Addams, chatting about the usual pleasantries, and went to her assigned table. #15 was close to the back, but not so far that the teachers couldn't see them from the front. Claire sat on the far side facing the door and took out her book. She also pulled out her science homework, figuring she could kill two birds with one stone.

'A sheath of tissue surrounding the organs of a mollusk, producing the mollusk's shell and performing respiration.'

Claire sighed. She hated science.

"Mantle."

Claire jumped, barely clamping down on a shriek that wanted out. She twisted, startled to see a grinning redhead standing behind her. "What?" she asked, tucking her hands under the table so he couldn't see them, the fire that had unconsciously sprung from her fingertips extinguishing.

"The definition?" he pointed at her paper, "It's for 'mantle.'"

"Oh," Claire blinked, "Thanks."

"No problem," he grinned, swinging around the table. Had he purposely snuck up behind her? "I'm Wally, by the way." He paused and struck a pose. "West. Wally West."

Claire giggled, smacking a hand over her mouth so the sound didn't get louder. "Cambrion," she mimicked, "Claire Cambrion."

"Nice. Gotta love alliteration," he sighed, plopping down in the seat across from her. "But uh, here's the deal," he braces his arms against the table, leaning forward like he was telling her a secret. "I don't actually need a tutor."

Claire raised an eyebrow. She didn't personally know him, but she'd seen him in a lot of her classes. And since all her core classes were AP, and so was one of her electives, she would normally agree - anyone taking that kind of course load wouldn't really need help. But … "Mrs. Prince signed you up for tutoring, which means you were failing."

"I understand the stuff," he defended, "But I just don't have the patience to sit down and actually do my homework and stuff. I can manage with my Main Cores, but it's harder with electives. Plus, I don't really like Latin," he grinned at the last part, and Claire snorted.

"I just need someone to keep me focused."

"You need a babysitter," she clarified dryly.

"I need no such thing!" he protested in mock outrage. He puffed out his chest, arms akimbo. "The nerve." Claire laughed, kicking at the leg of his chair. He deflated, slouching back into his chair like it was a throne to his particularly lazy king. "But, uh, is that - is that okay with you?"

Claire nodded, "Yeah, it's fine. I can do my homework, then, too, but I'll still ask you questions every now and then to make sure you actually know what you're doing."

"Fair enough, beautiful." he grinned.

He did, in fact, know what he was doing. Claire wasn't really surprised. For all that he acted like an idiot, he was surprisingly smart. And hyper. Claire had lost count of how many times she'd kicked his chair to get him to refocus, but they'd both managed to finish their respective homework in the hour-and-a-half they'd been at the library.

"So, this worked out well," Wally said, sliding around the table to prop himself against it. Claire blinked at him, bending down a little to grab her backpack.

"It did, actually," she agreed, flashing him a smile.

"Do you think we could, ya know, do it again?" he gave her a hopeful look, exaggeratingly blinking his eyes. Claire snorted, but furrowed her brows.

"Well, yeah, Wally. I'm tutoring you. Until you get your grade back up to a C," she pointed out, confused.

"No, no - I mean. I mean like, outside the library."

"Oh, um." Would she be able to? And where would they meet? Certainly not at her place, she didn't trust her mom not to be embarrassing. She frowned in confusion. Would this be considered -

"Not a date," Wally rushed. "Unless you want it to be," he winked. "But I meant as friends."

- not a date then, okay.

Claire smiled, tucking her bangs behind her ear and making a frustrated noise when they fell back in her face. "Yeah, that sounds good."

"Awesome! Here, gimme your phone," he demanded, making grabby hands at her. She laughed, pulling out the two year old Wayne Tech phone and handing it over. Wally tapped away at it, face screwed up in exaggerated concentration.

If there was one thing she'd learned about Wally West during their hour-and-a-half tutoring session, it was that he never did anything halfway, except maybe his Latin homework. His jokes were so stupid they were actually funny, he was dramatic, and he loved. to. flirt. It had taken Claire by surprise, but she figured he was just one of those guys whose default was flirt mode.

Wally made a triumphant noise and handed her back her phone, before fishing his out of his pocket.

Claire unlocked the phone, a simple slide lock because she didn't use a password, and went to her text section.

To: The Wallman;)

aaaaye, girl, what's up?

Claire raised an eyebrow and sent 'The Wallman' a look over the rim of her glasses. Her phone vibrated.

From: The Wallman;)

I'm in insulted claire. all this time 2gether nd u think I'm a girl? :0

"Oh my God," she sighed, amused.

To: The Wallman;)

sorry. your chest gave me the impression that you were a woman. my bad. won't happen again.

He made a strangled noise, slapping a hand to his chest to make sure there wasn't any cleavage. "Not cool."

Claire laughed.