Pebblekit: Hey guys! Sorry for the delay and thanks for coming back! I really do apologize for taking so long. Between graduating from University, finding two new jobs, and trying to fix my medical problems, I've been rather busy. But now that I have a more…er…sedate schedule (which I say loosely, because my work places don't have set schedules), I should be able to write more consistently. The next chapter is almost done and would be already, but I had to start it over a couple of times to get it right. Anyhow, on with the story! In this chapter, we get some time with Damian and his thoughts, and the we get to jump back to the past to see where Wally went the first time he disappeared. Please let me know what you think!

Also, just a quick note – please keep in mind that the way Tim is discussed in this chapter is Damian's perception. Considering their history, you might want to take everything with a grain of salt. Kind of. It'll all come into play later.

Disclaimer: I don't own "Young Justice", DC Comics, any of the characters involved, or anything to do with them.

The Antics of Speedsters and Robins

Chapter 10

(Damian Wayne, Gotham City. 2032.)

Damian had resolved to never admit it for as long as he lived, but the Pied Piper had obviously done something to help them. After the Rogue had fiddled with Grayson's device, the little machine started not only connecting to the Batcave's computer, but it automatically began interfacing with it once he typed in the password. After he'd plugged the distortion monitor into the correct socket, a security screen had come up asking for one that Grayson had obviously set years before. Damian still wasn't nearly as good as his former mentor had been at hacking (or, to his eternal shame, as Drake was), but it actually hadn't taken him too long to figure out the correct phrase.

It had been one of Grayson's favorites, and he'd said it several times throughout their partnership. I can carry you. Damian wasn't sure, as unfamiliar as he was with pop culture, or anything beyond his training and school work really, but when he'd looked it up, it appeared to be a quote from "Lord of the Rings". It was an odd choice, considering that, in all of the time they'd worked together, he could only remember Grayson watching those films maybe twice and he'd only referenced them directly a few more, if that.

But still, when the query had come up on the computer, Damian had tried a bunch of other ideas only for all of them to fail. It had been an odd moment of introspection that had even made him think of the old phrase. He remembered however, quite clearly, one of the only times he'd been able to bring himself to ask Grayson for help. It had been about a year after they'd teamed up for the first time as Batman and Robin together, but Damian's father had reappeared and it had been unclear where Damian would fall in Grayson's life at that point. The acrobat had expressed want to go back to Bludhaven, but Damian wasn't sure if he himself had been ready to leave Gotham. And his father certainly wasn't going to let him go easily.

But then, in the middle of that, evidence had popped up that his mother, Talia, had appeared in the city. Which was never a good thing. His father had known and specifically told Damian to stay away from her, no doubt worried that he'd return to the League of Shadows with her if they met. But…Damian had wanted to speak with her. Wanted to at least see her. Though he wasn't stupid enough to trust her and knew that he shouldn't go after her alone.

So, after much deliberation on his part, he'd gone to Grayson.

Grayson, who had always had more faith in him than anyone else ever had.

The older man had stared blankly at him for a long moment after his (admittedly awkward) request for acquaintance in such a dangerous (and possibly suicidal) endeavor before ruffling his hair with that annoyingly cheery grin and excitedly high voice proclaiming that of course he'd help his little brother.

It had been so expected of Grayson that Damian hadn't even flinched when the man had pulled him in suddenly for a tight hug - something that had grown far more familiar between them and less uncomfortable over the time they'd spent together. But then…Grayson had surprised him. The acrobat's voice had dropped down to a range he didn't usually use outside of the field and had been heavy with uncharacteristic seriousness as he said "I'm so proud of you for coming to me and I'll always help you when you need it. No matter what happens or what weighs on you, I can carry you if you need me to."

Of course, Damian hadn't understood what he was talking about at the time and had pushed his former mentor away, practically spitting like a wet cat at the display of affection. But now…now, he understood, if only somewhat. Grayson, in his own way, had been trying to tell him that there was no shame in asking for assistance. That no matter what happened, he'd always be there for his charge (who, by that time, hadn't actually been his charge anymore).

Damian, for as far as he'd come in the last few years, was still having trouble getting used to that mentality. Just the idea that someone would be willing to offer aid without the promise of anything in return…especially in something as serious as possibly dealing with Talia al Ghul, and after Batman had ordered them not to, was still nothing short of mindboggling to him.

But that had been Grayson. Adorably stupid, brave, gullible, confounding, loyal…Grayson.

Damian wasn't sure why that thought had come to him at that moment. But it had. And, by some miracle, it had worked for him. He had figured out the password – or phrase, in this case. Now, the distortion monitor was syncing with the Batcave's computer system and tapping into the Justice League's satellite to somehow triangulate the probable positions of tears between worlds. Already, it had found several possibilities.

Damian and Iris hadn't done anything about them yet, agreeing to wait for the weekend so that Iris could go check on each of them at once and report back to Damian. In the meantime, they had both been going through all of Grayson's notes from when he'd gone through this same thing years before, trying again to find any information on how to build their own monitor device. It would be infinitely helpful for them to have one in the Batcave and one in the field at the same time, if only so that they wouldn't have to stop looking for more distortions every time Iris physically went out to check what was there. But so far, they'd had no luck. Damian wondered if it was in an encrypted file somewhere, but, since Iris had told him about Grayson's apparent run-in with Slade during his own search, the Robin was starting to wonder if there were simply no physical blueprints or anything of the sort.

So far, it looked as though they'd just have to ask Roy Harper about that. Iris had made plans to go visit him while she was checking out the distortion sights in the coming weekend, and Damian would join her for it. Jay Garrick was going to try and be there as well, but had also been assigned to a mission, so there was a chance he wouldn't make it. Until then, Damian wasn't going to give up looking for any hints he could find on the subject.

Currently, he was trying to trace a signal that the monitor was having trouble locking on to. That was, as far as he'd discovered in the last few days, rather unusual. Something about this distortion was unique, and Damian was having trouble figuring out what because of his unfamiliarity with the device and its settings. After about an hour of trying to coax the thing to work with him, he was about two inches away from smashing his fist through the computer screen in frustration. As though to tease him, an error message appeared for the thirteenth time, as it had at least a dozen times in the last hour, and the distortion readings literally seemed to jump from one area to another about thirty yards away.

As far as he could tell, it seemed that he was dealing with a tear that somehow moved. All of the ones they'd found previously had been stationary, but this one…Sometimes, it seemed to hold still for ten minutes, and then would suddenly jump elsewhere, and hardly ever at a constant pace. Damian honestly had no idea why or if something like this was even possible, so he added it to the list of things to discuss with Harper in the coming weekend.

But until then, he was determined to do his best and keep track of the tear. Again, an error message scrolled across the screen as he tried to input directions to lock onto that specific distortion, which made no sense. Damian had discovered through trial and error some interesting aspects of the monitor, one of which was a setting that would, through the Justice League satellite, scan selected areas for any changes. Just as he'd noticed with the tear in the garden at Iris's school, it seemed that areas near tears ended up being a couple of degrees warmer in general, as well as sometimes having changes in the normal wind patterns.

Damian had been able to select different places many times in the last couple of days, so why was it any different with this particular distortion?

He may not have known as much as he wanted to about hacking, but he did know some of the basics. So he typed in the last shortcut line that Grayson had taught him before he'd disappeared, having exhausted all of the others systematically in the last hour or so. All of them had had the same result of nothing, so Damian really wasn't expecting much this time.

However, to his surprise, a new screen came up asking for another password. Damian blinked at it, too caught off guard for a couple of seconds to do much else, but once he regained his bearings, his mind immediately started to think of words and phrases that could possibly be the answer. If Grayson or Harper programmed this, he hardly believed that he with his minimal training in the field would be able to hack his way through whatever defenses they had come up with, so this was probably his best bet. After all, he had managed to figure out the last one, right? If anyone knew Grayson well enough to find the answer to this, it was him.

The first password had been a quote, so perhaps this one was the same? Quickly, he began trying all of the ones he'd known his mentor to have used, whether jokingly, seriously, or otherwise. Once he'd tried all of the variations of everything he came up with from "Beam me up, Scotty" to "It was pity that stayed his hand" (and Lord, Grayson had LOVED using that last one when it came to taming Damian's more…murderous impulses) only for them all to fail, he took a small break.

His mind was rife with possibilities, not sure which to attempt first. Would Grayson have picked something that he wanted those close to him to be able to figure out? Or something he wanted to remain completely private? Without knowing what, exactly, he'd been trying to hide, Damian wasn't sure. And there were so many things the password or words could be, he couldn't just start typing them all in. Especially if his mentor had replaced any or all of the letters with numbers or something of the sort. Thinking of which…what if the password was just a series of numbers? Damian recalled once trying to use Grayson's laptop only to get stuck at the log in. When he'd ask for the password, Grayson had rattled off a random series of numbers that he said he'd pulled out of a bag, convinced that if he had no reason for picking them, no one would be able to figure them out.

What if he'd done the same thing here? For a second, he considered calling Iris to ask her opinion, but he discarded the idea. Though his current…partner had known her 'Uncle' quite well, Damian was fairly certain she wouldn't have any ideas different than what he'd come up with. Perhaps an older member of Young Justice? West probably would have known. Or Harper. Perhaps he should ask about this during their weekend meeting as well.

But…Damian would admit that his curiosity was peaked. Somehow, he felt he couldn't leave this be. This was something so odd…

Debating with himself, he almost reacted when the door to the cave opened without warning. For a moment, he tensed, expecting his father's footsteps to start coming down the stairs. Although Bruce hadn't really told him to stop trying to find Grayson…he had made it clear he wasn't really comfortable with seeing the efforts his son was going to. Damian relaxed, however, when he recognized Pennyworth's soft, but sharp footsteps. Judging by how he took approximately two-tenths of a second more for each than he usually did while walking unburdened, Damian figured he was carrying something that required he be vigilant on the stairs, but that wasn't necessarily heavy.

Sure enough, the old butler was balancing a tray of sandwich halves again and Damian tutted at himself as he checked the clock in the corner of the computer screen and realized he'd been at work far longer than he'd intended. Thankfully, he'd already finished his homework for the night. Visibly calm, he turned the chair to face Pennyworth. "Thank you," he said stiffly as he was handed the tray, turning to put it on the desk that was now behind him.

"Of course sir," Pennyworth answered in his brisk tone. His eyes scanned across the screen and its results. "I see you have succeeded in getting a bit further in your work?"

Damian nodded, typing in 'Let's blow this thing and go home' only for that quote to fail as well. "Indeed. But it appears that I've hit something of a crossroad."

"I see. Did Master Richard set this one?"

Damian paused, considering that. He had assumed, but… "It's highly possible. But I suppose it could have also been Harper," who was also a very good hacker, now that he thought of it.

Pennyworth thought for a couple of seconds. "Perhaps you should ask him about this."

"I have considered that," he answered while typing in "shoulders of giants" only for it to be denied.

"Very good, sir," Pennyworth answered. Then, for a split second, he opened his mouth to continue before hurriedly shutting it, not allowing himself to go on.

The action was so out of place for the older man that Damian actually stopped typing and looked at him in question, one of his eyebrows shooting up out of habit. "Was there something else?"

Pennyworth seemed to weigh his words quite carefully. "Ah…that is…I had an idea, but it occurs to me that it wasn't a good one."

Which just raised Damian's curiosity even more. "And that idea is…?" he prompted, watching the butler intently.

"I'm not sure I should say," he responded, not giving anything away.

As if Damian was going to let that go. "Pennyworth."

The older man obviously realized he wasn't going to win this round and sighed almost inaudibly. "The thought came to me that you could contact Master Tim and ask if he has any opinion or idea on the matter."

Damian was pretty certain that his brain had never gone completely…well…dead until that moment. "…Pennyworth."

"Now you see why I found it prudent not to tell you."

"You want me to call Drake?"

Pennyworth just nodded slightly. "He might have some insight you do not share with him. However, I realize that-"

"He hasn't shown any interest in my efforts to find Grayson previously."

"Correct, sir."

They stared at each other for a long moment, neither daring to say anything or to even move. The fact that Pennyworth would even have the audacity to…

Drake. Drake was…Drake had…abandoned Grayson. There was no other way to explain it. Damian, when he'd started his work, had sent two messages, exactly a week apart from each other, to the other Robin offering to allow him into the investigation. Drake had never responded. Not even to say 'no'. It apparently hadn't been worth his time.

Grayson hadn't been worth his time.

Drake, who had always claimed to be the better Robin, the better partner for Grayson…Drake, who had been so angry when Grayson had chosen to work with Damian over him after Bruce had disappeared that he'd cut off almost all communication with his older brother…

He'd broken Grayson's heart.

Even back then, when he'd been even worse at understanding such things as emotions and relationships than he was now, Damian had been able to clearly see how much Drake's words had hurt his older brother. Almost as much as Drake's desertion and reemergence as Red Robin – which had to be a direct message to Grayson, just like Wally West's Speed Demon costume had been, when it had borne more resemblance to Grayson's Nightwing suit than to any of the speedsters'.

Damian had only offered cordiality after the disappearance because he'd been man enough to admit he might need some assistance. And he knew that Drake, despite the things he said, still cared about his older brother. But apparently, not enough to actually do something in a situation like this.

Damian had taken the other man's silence to mean that he didn't want to get involved. Just like almost everyone else in the costumed community.

And now, after he'd lowered himself to the level of asking in the first place not just once, but twice…Pennyworth wanted him to do so again? That wasn't going to happen. "I don't plan to endeavor in that idea any time soon."

Pennyworth twitched in agreement. "I didn't think you would. And I'm not sure if Master Tim would be interested at all either. It was just a thought."

And a terrible one at that.

Damian, however, didn't say anything and instead just nodded before turning back to the computer. As he started trying again, Pennyworth retreated back upstairs. For a while, Damian sat and stewed, getting more and more agitated about the previous conversation as time went on. As more and more of his ideas were rejected by Grayson's password protection, he grew more and more impatient, which only fueled his anger at Drake.

Because, of course, if the man were here, he'd probably be able to hack past all of this within seconds. The thought wasn't doing anything to improve Damian's mood.

(Wally West, Alternate Central City. 2015.)

Wally lay on the ground, staring up at the sky. His left leg, right elbow, and right shoulder were throbbing in pain, but they didn't hurt nearly as much as they had when he'd broken them, or when he'd set them afterwards. He was also aware that he'd hurt his head somehow. There had been a bit of blood and the world had spun around him, but he'd stabilized somewhat. Now, all he could do was wait. He'd been in the arctic just a couple of hours ago, running circles around a bomb he wasn't even sure he could stop. Now, one very confusing run through a dark tunnel later, he was slumped on the outskirts of Central City, still trying to calculate two things – how he'd gotten there so fast (which must have had something to do with that aforementioned weird tunnel) and why S.T.A.R labs was on the wrong side of the city.

His limbs were healing, burning as the bones reknit themselves at super-speed. Wally thanked his lucky stars that, though his actual running ability had remained about the same since he'd started in Young Justice, other aspects of his power had improved. Whereas it used to take at least a week or so for injuries such as the ones he had right then to recover, as it was at the moment, it felt as though he'd be able to walk normally again by the morning. All he had to do until then was wait, so he'd dragged himself into the cover of a large rock nearby the embankment he'd tumbled down, trying to hide himself from any prying eyes. It definitely wasn't the best cover, but it was better than nothing.

Of course, as soon as he'd stopped moving, he'd sent out a silent distress signal from his comm. link, as was protocol. After a few hours, a feeling of relief came over him as the distinctive tug of another speedster approaching made an appearance in the base of his belly. Focusing on it for a bit, he hazily recognized Uncle Barry's presence. Usually, he'd have more issue with pinpointing who it was, but he supposed that the pain from his wounds had served to sharpen his senses. Someone in the League or in Young Justice must have picked up his signal and sent the Flash. With that thought came the realization that his Uncle was alive. Maybe they'd managed to stop the bomb after all! Maybe everyone else was alright too! Bart, Artemis, Dick…

He wasn't sure why, exactly, it had taken so long for Barry to get to him. His Uncle was the fastest speedster in history that they knew of and would have easily been able to arrive sooner, especially taking the help of zeta-beams into account. But Wally forced the thought away. He was thankful that his comm. link still worked at all after…whatever had happened to him. He wasn't about to start looking a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe Barry had been injured himself and had had to heal enough to come for him.

Within moments, the tug grew much, much stronger and Barry's face appeared above his. Wally tried his best to smile up at the man, but he was pretty sure his mouth pulled into more of a grimace than anything. "Hey…Flash," he said, inwardly groaning as it came out much more labored than he'd wanted. Barry blinked and…wait.

Wally stared, fairly certain that his Uncle didn't usually wear a costume that showed his blue eyes. He certainly hadn't been earlier that day in the arctic. And yet…

"Are you alright?" the older man asked, and his voice was…wrong somehow. Just slightly, but it was enough that all of Wally's defensive feelings immediately rushed to the surface. Without thinking, he tried to spring upwards into a normal sitting position. It didn't feel as bad as it could have. His shoulder already felt almost healed and his elbow gave a bad twinge, but it was mostly his leg sparking with a sudden shot of agony and a blinding whiteness across his vision with a throb of his head that were the worst.

Wally grabbed at the joint of his knee with one hand and the back of his skull with the other, but managed to stay upright. Barry had managed to dodge his movement, unsurprisingly, and was now looking at him with something akin to concern, but there was something underneath it. Suspicion…worry…something. Wally gazed at him, trying to read the expression, trying to ignore the fact that the tug in his belly now felt just as off as Barry's voice had sounded. "I'm fine," he managed, and this time, he sounded much more centered.

Barry nodded, but his eyes were still boring into his nephew. "Good…now…if you don't mind answering a question, could you tell me who, exactly, you are and where you got that comm. link?"

Wally opened his mouth to respond before the meaning of his Uncle's words actually managed to penetrate his exhausted brain. Once it had, he found himself groping around for anything to say, but was only able to come up with a frightened "what?"

Barry gave nothing away as he crouched in front of Wally, obviously ready to react to anything, ready to run. "Who are you? Where did you get that comm. link?" he repeated, saying the words just slightly slower.

Wally was still having trouble comprehending what he was hearing, but he cobbled together an answer. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to use real names in costume, but at the moment, he was scared, in pain, and had no idea what was going on. "I…what are you talking about? Uncle Barry, it's me. Me. Wally. How could you…what's going on?"

That got a reaction. Barry's eyes widened by quite a margin. "Wally?" he asked, voice soft. Faster than the younger speedster could track, he found his face exposed entirely as his uncle pulled the cowl off his head. It really didn't make much difference in his own opinion – there were only so many people who had red hair and bright green eyes. Honestly, looking back, he was rather surprised that his secret identity hadn't been blown before. But the action did expose his freckles and facial shape to the night air. A small chill ran down his spine as wind hit the sweat on the areas that had been under his mask. Barry said nothing for a long, long moment. "It's…it's you," his voice was even quieter, as though he was talking to himself. "Wally? What are…what's happened to you?"

"Me? What about you?" Wally asked back, wiping the drops away from his forehead that were about to snake into his eyes. "How could you not know me? You saw me just a few hours ago!"

Barry shook his head, slowly. "I…no. Wally, I haven't seen you in almost a year. And certainly not wearing…that." He motioned to the Kid Flash outfit.

"What…you…of course you have!" Wally was well aware that he was beginning to sound a bit desperate. He had no idea what was going on, but this couldn't be good. In any way, shape, or form. His head was pounding, so hopefully it was some weird dream brought on by his wound, but nothing suggested it actually was. "I've fought at your side for years! I mean…look, I know you were upset when I quit, but…but I came back. I came when you needed me. That…that has to count for something, doesn't it?" he was rambling now. Somewhere in the back of his mind was an old, lingering fear. Barry had told him it was fine to leave the superhero community a year and a half before, but Wally had always wondered if there was some relief there too. Because he'd been slow and Barry had always had to hold back for him. And now… "I mean…I know you have Bart now, and he can keep up with you, so you don't really need me anymore. But…I…I couldn't just do nothing. I had to try and stop that bomb. I had to. It…it wasn't just you. Artemis and Dick were there too, and…" he cut himself off as Barry's face changed from one of confusion and concern to shock.

"Dick?" the older man asked. "What do you mean? Where was he?"

"In the Arctic with all of us!" Wally answered. Barry had to know what he was talking about. How could he just forget about everything that had happened?

Barry was starting to look downright disturbed now. "Wally…you weren't in the Arctic. Neither was I. Nor was Dick. Or…or…any of those other people you named."

"Artemis and Bart?"

"Right. Whoever they are. No one from the League or otherwise were up there."

Wally tried valiantly to draw his thoughts together, but they didn't seem to want to cooperate. "Artemis," he finally said. "My…my girlfriend. You don't…you don't know her?"

Barry shook his head. "Can't say I do."

"And Bart? My…my first cousin once-removed? Your grandson from the future?"

Barry recoiled slightly. The movement was so fast that Wally was fairly certain he'd have missed it if he himself wasn't a speedster. Barry blinked at him before continuing. "My what?"

Wally didn't say anything. He let go of his knee and head as he scooted a bit backwards and away from his – no, it couldn't be his uncle – and tried to make sense of what was happening. Nothing seemed to come together, though. Nothing added up. Just as he was about to say so, a thought occurred to him. "S.T.A.R. Labs was on the wrong side of the city."

"What?" Barry asked, following him a bit forward, which only drove Wally further backwards until he bumped into the rock behind him. He didn't realize he'd been moving in super speed until he saw Barry's eyes widen comically just before he followed the movement.

Wally tried not to jump as the man who was not his Uncle continued closer until there was only about a foot between their noses. "S.T.A.R. Labs. The building was on the wrong side of the city." And that hadn't been a construct of his imagination or supposed concussion. He'd noticed that as soon as he'd come out of that weird tunnel and it had been the distraction allotted by that realization that had sent him tumbling head over heels in the first place.

Barry actually drew closer, making Wally go a bit cross-eyed to keep him in clear view. But the action caused a jolt to run through his brain and he winced, grabbing at the back of his head again. Barry slowly reached out, as though not to scare him, and gently pried his grip away, looking at Wally's palm. "You're not okay," the man said, voice soft and worried as Wally thought he must have started bleeding again. Maybe he hadn't actually stopped. "Let's get you up to Watchtower," the Flash continued and, within moments, he'd scooped Wally up into a loose bridal style, steadied their weight, and sped off. The blurred images were too much for Wally's vision and blackness started to crawl in around the edges.

When he woke, it actually felt like he'd just blinked. But that obviously wasn't the case because he was in what he recognized to be the Watchtower Med Bay. With a start, he tried to sit up, only for a couple of arms to stop him, pressing down on his upper body firmly. "Whoa, hold on there. Don't hurt yourself."

Wally looked up, meeting the gaze of two dark blue eyes. For a second, his mind grappled with himself, still expecting to see Barry. But this was…

"DICK!" And without any warning, he surged forward with super speed, easily breaking through the younger boy's grasp and wrapping his arms around the acrobat's frame. He pulled his best friend close, hugging him tightly and completely ignoring the fact that the two of them hadn't been in such an intimate position in a long time. "I'm so glad you're here. I have no idea what's going on. Barry didn't know me, Artemis, or Bart. I can't…I don't…You…YOU'RE ALIVE." And Dick most certainly was, right here, whole, and solid in Wally's grasp. The bomb hadn't killed him. Which meant, hopefully, that everyone else was okay too. But…Dick was here. Right here, and Wally had so much to say. "I'm sorry. So, so, sorry. I was such a jerk to you."

Dick was slightly stiff for a little bit, but slowly loosened up. "Er…it's…it's okay…Really. You don't have to worry about it anymore."

The relief disappeared almost as soon as it came and Wally let go and jerked backwards. The voice…was wrong. Again. Like it had been with Barry. And as he looked – really looked – an unsettling feeling became tangible in Wally's stomach. This…wasn't the Dick Grayson he knew. This Dick's hair was longer and pulled back into a ponytail. There were no sunglasses on his face, despite the video cameras in the room, and the clothing he was wearing were more like what he wore at home, not in the Watchtower.

Not only that, but this Dick's face was…tired, somehow. And gaunt. Not enough to be worrisome in most cases, but the fact that Wally had just seen his friend earlier that day and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was not him made it absolutely terrifying. "Who are you?" he asked, throat tightening. If this was a trick of some sort, using his uncle almost-estranged against him had been bad enough, but this…this was downright cruel.

"Richard Grayson," the younger man replied without a beat, though he seemed slightly uncomfortable. "The Flash mentioned that you knew me."

And Wally had said Dick's name earlier, hadn't he? But…"You don't go by 'Dick'?" he asked, confused.

His friend – was he his friend? – shook his head. "Not for a long time now. Though some people still call me that. Like your uncle."

Wally shook his head. "That man wasn't my Uncle Barry. And you aren't Dick Grayson. Not my Dick Grayson. Not the one I know." Some good amount of time must have passed because his head was no longer throbbing, his knee and shoulder seemed fine, and his elbow was only slightly weak feeling. But that did nothing to actually make him feel better.

To his surprise, however, Dick – Richard – shook his head. "Maybe not. Hartley is looking into it right now, but…your blood work came back with an odd distortion of some sort. He thinks you might not be from…here."

Wally thought about that for a moment, trying to figure out what the younger man was saying. "Wait…what do you mean by 'here'? And…" there was only one 'Hartley' he knew of. "Do you mean Hartley Rathaway? The Pied Piper?"

Richard looked a bit surprised by his tone, but nodded in answer anyway. "Yes. Though he mostly just goes by 'Piper' now. He has for the last several years, since he joined us."

Wally, despite himself, felt his eyes go wide. "Pipes is a hero here?" That was…surprising, to say the least. And awesome – he'd always seemed to be one of the…nicer Rogues (though that word might not have been the correct one). It also definitely answered a couple of his unanswered questions. He was starting to put the puzzle together. After all…he'd run into this sort of thing in Young Justice, hadn't he? When Klarion the Witch Boy had split the world into two five years before. Maybe that was why Dick's next words were almost expected.

"He's looking into the possibility that you're from a different reality."

"An alternate universe."

"Yes."

Wally nodded, letting that thought run through his mind. While it certainly made him feel small in a way he'd never encountered before, it…made sense, in a twisted way. But the implications were a little heavy. Apparently, the Wally and Barry in this world had never become mentor and sidekick. Something…had happened to Dick. S.T.A.R. Labs was on the opposite side of Central City. Hartley was a good guy…

Barry hadn't known either Artemis or Bart.

That was…that meant…Wally didn't know what that meant. But he didn't like the suggestions.

He wanted Artemis. His Barry. His Dick Grayson.

He wanted to go home. Because looking at his best friend and seeing nothing but a stranger was far too unnerving in far too many ways.

"If I am…" he began, unsure if he could finish. Because…because what if the answer was 'no'? "If I am from another reality, is there a way for me to get home?"

Richard looked a bit awkward, not hiding behind his bat-mask. "We don't know. We've never dealt with anything of this nature before. But Hartley is looking into it. And…and he's an expert at this sort of stuff, so if anyone can figure out the answer to that question, it would be him."

"'This sort of stuff?' He's an expert at interdimensional travel?"

Richard let an echo of his familiar smirk cross his face. "No, not quite. But he says that the distortion shown in your blood is very similar to the distortion he's encountered with some of his sound wave studies. He thinks there might be a connection."

Wally nodded, trying not to show his surprise. Too much had happened that day already and he really wasn't sure what he was supposed to do about any of this. It was all he could do to keep himself from flailing around in dismay. "So…what are you doing here? Did they pick you to deal with me for any specific reason, or did you just draw the short straw?"

Richard blinked. "I wouldn't call it the 'short' straw. It's not every day we get to talk to someone from an alternate universe, you know. But, yeah, they picked me because you apparently have a connection to Dick Grayson in your world. We were hoping this would be the least frightening way for you to wake up. Flash said he didn't really handle the situation before you blacked out very well."

No, he hadn't. But, to be fair, not-Uncle Barry had been caught quite a bit off guard. And Wally's reaction hadn't been as composed as it could have been. "He did fine. I wasn't any better off."

"Maybe not, but you also had a sizeable concussion."

Ah, so he had been right in thinking so. "It feels better now," he offered, realizing that Richard's face had grown a bit darker with his last words, probably in worry.

"Yes, it has almost completely healed," the younger man agreed, but he didn't look any happier. "You definitely are a speedster, but I'm not entirely sure how much of one."

"What do you mean?" Wally asked, shifting around a bit on the medical bed so that he was a bit more comfortable. It wasn't easy with the stiff material. And Richard's words hit a bit close to home. He had always been slower, but…his healing had sped up. He was a full speedster, as far as he knew. He just wasn't able to run as fast. Unless… "Did something odd turn up in your tests or something?" He demanded, looking up at Richard and trying not to sound freaked out.

Richard pulled an odd face that he couldn't read – which was disconcerting, because Wally was more than well versed in decrypting mini-Bat expressions. "Not really. Just the distortion I mentioned before. But your healing was faster than the Flash's has ever been."

Wally opened his mouth to say something, to explain that he just wasn't as good as Barry. But at Richard's words, he found himself at a loss. "I…don't understand."

"Neither do we. Barry was really surprised."

"No, you don't get it. I…I'm not as fast as him."

Richard just tilted his head ever so slightly to the side. "Seems that you are. Maybe even faster."

"No, that's not possible." Wally wasn't really sure why it was so important to say this, but to suggest that he was faster than Uncle Barry – even if it was the wrong Uncle Barry – just felt like a type of sacrilege. "I'm the slowest speedster. I always have been. I can only hit about two-thirds the speed of sound. It's kind of a joke in my world. My healing ability has gotten faster, yes. But my running…not so much. And I can't phase through things either."

Richard looked at him as though he was an amoeba. "Really?"

"Really."

"…Huh. Maybe some of your powers just haven't developed. When did you become a speedster? I assume you weren't born one because you're not related by blood to Barry." Richard's attention drifted over to a window that looked out at the stars as he spoke. Wally fought the impulse to follow his gaze, halfway convinced that some of the constellations would be in the wrong places, just like Star Labs.

"When I was thirteen, I recreated Uncle Barry's experiment."

Richard's face snapped back to him faster than could have been considered normal in any circumstances. "You mean the 'lightning and dangerous chemicals' experiment?"

And those words…were familiar. Those were the same words, and almost the same frantic tone that Dick Grayson in his world had used the first time they had spoken about this. Apparently, his Robin hadn't read the file Batman had had on Kid Flash before they met, not wanting to have any preconceived ideas or notions about the other sidekick that could turn out to be false. Now, hearing the same phrase out of a different Dick Grayson's mouth, over an octave deeper…Wally swallowed against the sudden bile that rose in his throat and forced himself to answer. "Yeah, that's the one."

Richard stared at him and for a moment in obvious horror. "Why would you do that? You…you were a kid. You had your whole life ahead of you. You could have easily died!"

Wally fought the urge to sigh, having faced this same question many times before. People's minds went so quickly back and forth and many had assumed his life must have been terrible to drive him to do something like that. But, in his case… "I just…wanted to be like the Flash. I didn't know he was my Uncle Barry until after I became a huge fan of his. My parents…they love me. Always have. They just…never got very involved, you know? I never had any friends. I was always too geeky. Too nerdy. I just…" he shrugged. "I had the idea and thought it was worth it. I guess I was lonely. When I looked at the Flash, running at that speed…I thought he must be lonely too, not having anyone to run with. Being the only person like that. Well, I guess there was Jay, but he was older and didn't come out in the public anymore until later, when he realized he'd stopped aging. I suppose I hoped that the Flash would want someone at his side. Someone like him."

Richard's face had grown softer as Wally spoke, and he nodded slightly. "You figured that two lonely people could keep each other company."

"Yeah," Wally answered, suddenly wondering if Richard and Dick had thought the same when they'd found out about Bruce being Batman. Or perhaps Roy when he'd found out about Ollie being Green Arrow. "I thought maybe we could understand each other. My parents love me. But…they never understood my interest or affinity with science and mechanics."

Richard nodded again. "Yeah, I can get that. I mean, Bruce gets me to an extent. But my parents made it no secret that I was moving too fast in math for their tastes. They were worried they wouldn't be able to help me with my homework by the time I got into high school. And Hartley…well, he never got along with his parents. But he was a kid genius and they…chose not to see it. Maybe that's why he and I get along so well."

That drew Wally's interest. He knew the Pied Piper as well as any hero would know their enemies, but Hartley was certainly not the biggest threat in the Twin Cities' Rogue Gallery. He probably could be, but just didn't seem interested in using his hypnotism past a certain point. And while Wally knew there was some friction between Piper and his parents, he'd never really looked into it, figuring he'd grant the older man some privacy in that sense unless it became necessary. "How do you mean?"

"He was smart. Scarily so. That made his parents happy. But he being smarter than they were really didn't. They needed someone to take over their company someday – not someone who could tell them how to run it better. And once he got into mechanics and music instead of something like medicine or law…they saw it as a passive aggressive strike at them. They couldn't comprehend his want to work with those sorts of things as his professional life. To them, music could never be more than a hobby. And that hobby wasn't important enough to overwrite their desire for him to inherit their company and be their puppet – something Hart was never interested in."

"So they wrote him off as a lost cause," Wally guessed, knowing that Hartley had been disowned, but nothing beyond that. To his surprise, Richard shook his head.

"No. They tried to force him to be something else. I can't give you the details. They're personal. Hart can tell you if he wants. But…needless to say, being gay was the last straw for them. They weren't willing to waste time on someone they couldn't directly control any more than they already had on their son. They figured they'd try again with his sister."

"He has a sister?" Wally really shouldn't have been as surprised as he was. But he couldn't recall a second Rathaway child ever being mentioned in the news. While the fact that Piper was apparently homosexual in this world was surprising, he didn't say anything about it. After all, he wasn't really sure just how similar this Hartley Rathaway was to the one in his world. And either way, it didn't change anything between them, in his opinion.

"Yes. She's developmentally delayed. Always has been. They probably figured she'd be easier to control."

Wally only noticed several seconds after Richard's speech was over that his own jaw had fallen open at some point and had failed to close. "No wonder the guy became a Rogue."

Richard seemed to shiver a bit. "You don't know the half of it. But yeah, people figure that his life was easy because he was a spoiled rich kid. But I actually think that's what made it so difficult. I'm lucky Bruce took a vested interest in me. Hart never had that. It's even worse now. Even though he's been reformed a while, not many heroes are willing to work with him. And those who are, Hartley has trouble relating to them. Certainly in trusting them. It's…difficult. I think that may be why he's so interested in your case. It gives him something to do without having the entirety of the Justice League breathing down his neck. They know he's the best suited for the job and won't distract him while he's trying to figure it all out. Don't worry. If anyone can get you home, it's him."

Wally just looked at this man, this man who looked so much like his friend, and yet was so different. Because his Dick Grayson would never look so drained as Richard did right now. So hopeless. And yet, there was a small, understated smile on the younger man's face as he spoke. "You're one of the ones who does trust him, aren't you?" Wally asked, his own grin climbing the side of his face.

Richard just bowed his head slightly before looking up again. "Yeah. One of the VERY few. He's helped me more than a few times. And I guess we're kind of kindred spirits in a way. He's the only one who believes I can get back in the game at some point."

"What do you mean?"

Richard shrugged a bit, but suddenly looked uncomfortable again. "I haven't been in a mask for a few years. Now that I'm thinking about starting again…there aren't many who are being supportive. Bruce certainly isn't."

Wally blinked. "You quit?"

Richard hesitated, but then shook his head. "Yes…and no. Batman fired me. I didn't know how to go on without him, so…I just…stopped."

"He did? How old were you?"

Richard cocked his head to the side. "I'd just turned sixteen. Why?"

So some things were the same. That had been around the time Bruce had fired Dick in their world too. But…Dick Grayson had continued on as Nightwing. He'd moved out of the manor and into Mount Justice –

Wally stopped his train of thought. Because…if he himself wasn't a sidekick…"Richard?" he asked, ignoring how odd that name felt in his mouth.

"Yeah?"

"…Do you have a group called 'Young Justice' in this world?"

The other man's blank face was a far clearer answer than words ever could have been. "I don't believe so. Why?"

"Is there any other group of sidekicks?"

"Er…" Richard looked somewhat concerned now. "No."

No Young Justice or any substitute. No Wally West or Bart Allen, so there was likely no Kid Flash. Richard hadn't had a team base to move to when he'd been kicked out. He hadn't had a team to help him when he'd been fired. He hadn't had a best friend at his side - at least, not a Wally West. "What about Roy?"

"Harper?"

"Yeah." Wally was trying desperately not to let his internal stress show on his face. Judging by Richard's expression, he wasn't very successful.

"He's around. We don't get along very well."

"Why not?"

"We just…don't. Maybe we could have. But there was an incident."

Everything…was wrong. No wonder Richard looked so tired. No wonder he got along so well with Hartley (who was reformed). Two people who the rest of the world and its heroes had left behind. Because…had any of the other members of the Justice League argued with Batman about firing Richard? They hadn't in his world. And Hartley…normal people weren't the only ones who needed help. Wally had often thought that some villains only became so because their cries for help went unheard or, like in Nuetro's case, they lost control of their abilities. Based on Richard's story, Wally could see how Hartley probably felt he'd fallen through the cracks. "I…I see." Wally tried his best to smile, at which Richard just looked taken aback. "I'm sure you'll make a great hero again. The Dick Grayson in my world certainly is."

"Um…thanks. I think…?"

All further conversation was cut off, however, as Superman (who's bangs curled in the opposite direction than what Wally was used to seeing) entered the room.

Author's Note: Thanks to all of you for being so patient and coming back for this chapter. It hopefully won't be very long for the next one. As a slight preview, Iris and Damian finally get to meet with Roy. And someone else. Plot ensues. So, a special thank you to all of you who have added me or this story to their favorite/alert lists. A super-awesomely-awesome thank you to anyone that has left a review. You have no idea how much it all means to me and helps me onward.

For those of you who may be waiting on updates in my other two stories, they're on their way! I promise. That's all for now. I hope to see you all next time!