Author's Note: I read a blind!Barry fic a while back and having been searching and searching and searching for a blind!Wally one, but there aren't any, so I decided I'd write one. This is the prologue. Let me know what you think! Read, review, and enjoy!

PS: This is basically almost entirely AU. For example, Wally received his powers when he was much younger and it was an accident instead of him recreating his uncle's experiment. His father cut all tied with Iris around the same time that Wally was born, so Iris and Barry never met Wally. Also, it's a reverse age fic with the Bat Clan. I know its super AU, but this is what works with the story, sorry!

Disclaimer: I do not own YJ

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Wally was seven years old when he got his super speed. His mother was visiting a friend who worked at Blue Valley's very own chemical producing plant. Wally was standing between the aisles of completed chemical product, watching from a slight distance as his mom and her friend made plans to meet on Friday. Suddenly, thunder roared to life outside of the plant and rain started pounding on the roof, the windows, the doors; anything to get into the building. Sparks of thick lightening arched across the sky and crackled for a mere second before fizzling out, only to be replaced by another.

Wally watched in wide-eyed wonder as the lightning sparkled across the sky. His face was turned up towards the window when one particular bolt of lightning crashed through it, spitting out sparks and heat as it raced across the room, blowing entire shelves out of the way, coming straight towards Wally. His mother, Mary, screamed, wind whipping her dress and her hair, hand stretched out towards her son.

For a moment, everything was still. Wally had time to reflect that he'd never seen his mother care so much about him before. The lightning still looked pretty even as it made its deadly arc towards his small body. Seven years old was too young to die. Then, it struck him.

When Wally woke up, four months later, the doctors told him that his body had been struck by the lightning and thrown into piles of chemicals. The lightning raced through the liquid, electrocuting him more and more. The chemical liquids found an outlet and more electricity slammed into his young body, leaving him in an extended coma. His heart had stopped several times. Almost all of his body had been covered in second and third degree burns. There was scarring, but much less than was expected. Overall, he was lucky to be alive.

The doctors told his parents that he was awake and could return home in two days. His mother had run into the room and ghosted her hands over his arms, his shoulders, his face. Wally let her do this as the tears streamed down her face. His father, Rudy, wrung his hands for a moment, guilt flashing across his face, before he moved to wrap an arm around Mary. After another moment of hesitation, he lightly enveloped Wally's hand in his own. Wally had never remembered a time when the three of them acted so much like a family.

Throughout the rest of that day and the next, Wally noticed some strange things. Sometimes nurses would come to talk to him and their words didn't make sense. It was like they were imitating whales. Another time, his mother dropped her purse and everything tumbled out, but it didn't tumble out right. It slowly glided through the air, his mother's mouth opening in surprise slower than Wally could have recited the pledge of allegiance. His father's arm swung through the air as if it was molasses, something thick and difficult to get through until suddenly he was moving at normal speed again. Later, his best friend Linda came by with a book, claiming that she knew how much he loved the Flash and figured that this would be a good get better book. Wally had smiled and thanked her before she left. When he tried to read the book, though, it didn't work. It was as if his eyes were skipping every other line. All the words were a blur and then they weren't and then they were a blur again. It gave him a headache to even try.

Wally didn't mention these things to his father lest he ruin the tentative moment of family that was happening. This was the first time Wally could remember not being afraid of his father's belt or his heavy hands or the telltale redness in his eyes that just screamed alcohol. This was the first time Wally could remember his mother saying, "I love you." This was the first time he had seen his parents kiss and hold hands. He didn't want to ruin this for them.

When they finally got home, Wally was led gently to the kitchen and was sat down at the dining table. Mary cooked all of his favorites and served a little bit of everything to Wally and Rudy ruffled the seven year old's hair, smiling down at him. It was beautiful, but it was all gone the next day.

"Mom! Come look! I made you a present!" Wally bounced into the living room, all smiles and infectious laughter.

Mary rolled her eyes good naturedly at her husband (a first in Wally's memory) and gently told Wally, "Why don't you bring it here, sweetie? I don't want to lose my place in my book." Wally nodded eagerly and ran into the kitchen, grabbing the painting he had worked so painstakingly on and rushing back. He wasn't met with the enthusiasm he had hoped for.

His parents' eyes were wide and their mouths were open in horror. Mary made a little squeaking noise and stumbled off of the wicker rocking chair, book tumbling to the ground, forgotten. Rudy's eyes narrowed and his fist balled, stalking closer to the confused child. The little painting of their finally happy family fluttered to the floor as Wally took a nervous step backwards, "What's wrong?" His voice finally cooperated and he glanced at his parents, desperately trying to understand.

"What's wrong?" His father's voice increased to a shout by the end of the question. He continued, "I'll tell you what's wrong you little brat! All that worry you caused us during your time in the hospital, all that money we had to spend to keep you in a room there, was for nothing! It was for worse than nothing! You… have… super speed! You're one of those freaks now! One of those… those… metahumans!" He spat the last word, spittle flying into little Wally's face as one meaty hand tangled in the young boy's collar. Wally didn't understand what was going on. What was a metahuman?

He didn't say anything, however, because he knew that when his dad was in this kind of mood it was better to just listen and nod when needed and not fight back because if you fought back, you got hurt worse. So Wally just trembled in his father's grip, large green eyes desperately fighting back tears as his father continued to bellow about how Wally was a 'freak' and a 'pathetic excuse for a son' and 'not worth the gum on the bottom of his shoe'. Suddenly, though, Wally was jerked back into the conversation when Rudy's hand flew roughly against the seven year old's face.

Wally's pale cheek swung to the side, his mouth opening in surprise. He had been hit before, lots of times, but normally he would be expecting it. Then Wally caught sight of himself in a mirror across the living room. The red mark on his face that would normally become a light bruise and be healed by morning (Rudy always made sure that the only marks on visible parts of his body would disappear fast) was already fading, slowing turning yellow and then browning slightly before fading back into his normal creamy complexion. Wide green eyes turned back to his father and were met with brown orbs filled with hatred.

His father's eyes moved to the already healing mark and his lips curled in disgust. He threw his son on the floor and snarled a quick, "Stay there," before leaving for the kitchen. Mary was still standing on the other side of the room, hand against her beating heart, no sympathy in her eyes for her child. A minute later and Rudy was walking back into the room, a kitchen knife held in one hand and a beer in the other. He took a huge swig of the amber alcohol before straddling his son and forcing his shirt up. Seven years worth of abuse stood stark against the boy's pale skin and his father simply grinned at his handy-work.

Then, Rudy pushed the tip of the knife into Wally's chest and the boy's breath stuttered in surprise. It hurt, but he couldn't call out. His voice wasn't working! He was so terrified that his voice had died in his throat. His father started to talk as he continued to carve his design into Wally's chest, "I want the entire world to know what a freak you are. I want them to see you and instantly know how much of a piece of trash you are. Besides, I think you'll like this. You're always going on and on and on about that worthless hero, Flash. Now that you're just like him with you demon powers, you should look like him, too." Rudy finished and wiped the tip of the knife off on Wally's pant leg. Mary was grinning sadistically in the background.

Wally, panting with pain and the efforts of keeping his screams in (he's not supposed to scream; he gets hurt worse when he screams) sat up slightly, glancing down at his chest. Rivulets and drops of blood streamed from the deep, so deep, wound in his chest. Cut almost down to the bone, right in the center of his chest was the Flash symbol. The outline of a lightning bolt was circled and carved into his skin. Wally had figured out by now that his healing rate had somehow been increased (like the Flash, a part of his mind whispered), but there was no way that it had increased enough to stop this from scarring. He was going to have this on his chest for the rest of his life and his father was right, people were going to see him and know that he's a freak and what is he going to do and why is his mom still smiling and not helping him and his dad had never gone this far before why is everything going so wrong?

He only realized that he had spaced out when Rudy slapped him again, drawing out a whimper of pain. Wally's eyes focused on Rudy again, taking in the fact that the knife was still in the man's hand. Rudy took another swig of his drink before putting one huge palm on Wally's forehead and pushing down. Wally's head was smacked against the ground and he whimpered again, wanting nothing more than to get away from his dad. Rudy spoke again, snarling, "I don't have a way to take away your speed, so I'll do the next best thing. You're a freak, a menace to this world as long as you can run, so I'll take away what you need to run." With that last snarled sentence, Rudy plunged the knife into Wally's eyes.

When Wally woke up again, the doctors had to convince him that he really was awake. He couldn't see anything. Everything was so very dark and his eyes and his chest ached. The police officers who came by to get his statement told him that his screams alerted the neighbors. They had called the police and his father had been arrested for attempted murder and child abuse. His mother had been arrested for accessory to a crime and child neglect. The police told him that he was going to grab a few boxes full of things and grab whatever he wanted from his house and then they were going to take him somewhere else where things would be better for him. They called it an orphanage.

The doctors came back in an told him that, yes, the wound on his chest was going to scar and they told him that they were so very impressed with how far along the wound was on its way to healed. They told him that there was unfortunately nothing they could do for his eyes, that he would be blind for the rest of his life. Wally was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he wasn't going to be living with his parents anymore. All he really knew was that he wasn't going to ever tell anyone else about his strange abilities. They were what tore his family apart when it had finally come together. His powers were what landed his parents in jail and him in the hospital. He would learn to control his powers so he could act like a normal person. He was going to learn to read Braille and he was going to learn how to stop everything from slowing down suddenly and he was going to hide any injury he got so people couldn't see how fast it healed. He was going to learn how to stop running fast when he was excited, or vibrating (he had found that out when the stress had gotten to him and he smelled burning and realized he had vibrated so fast that the hospital bed was smoking). He would learn to control his aching, bottomless hunger so people didn't talk behind his back about how much he ate.

The doctors didn't let him leave until two weeks later. Every day for the past two weeks had been spent with a physical therapist from Gotham that was certified in helping children who had been blinded. She was very nice and sweet and kept telling him how impressed she was with his progress. According to her, Wally was the smartest student she had ever had. She even said something about talking to his school (whichever one he ended up going to; it was decided that because so many people knew his parents at his old school, it would be better to move him somewhere new where he could get a fresh start) about getting him to skip a grade or two.

If Wally wasn't with Lizzy, the therapist who insisted Wally call her by her first name, he was with a social service woman or a police officer. The social service woman, named Martha, was trying to find an orphanage that would be a good fit for a blind kid. Wally had heard Martha and Lizzy arguing over whether he should be sent to an orphanage in Gotham or not. Lizzy insisted that she could help him get over any issues he might have with his blindness better if he was in Gotham. She couldn't come all the way to Blue Valley whenever he was having issues and over the phone therapy apparently isn't anywhere near as effective. Martha argued right back that Gotham is not a good place to grow up on your own. Apparently the orphanages there are notoriously bad, especially for impaired children. Eventually, Martha agreed and started filling out the paperwork to get Wally transferred to Gotham.

At the end of the two weeks, Wally got a pair of glasses that he was told had black, opaque lenses and he got a walking stick that was, according to the nurse, bright red. Lizzy helped guide Wally out of the hospital and into Martha's car and back to his house. Lizzy had been helping him practice walking with a cane and he was already pretty good at it, but his practice cane and his new, actual walking stick were a little different, leading to a couple of close calls.

The three of them finally reached his house and he was led upstairs to his room. Lizzy and Martha called out things to him and he would decide whether or not they should put it in the box. Wally could feel their horror at the complete lack of emotion his room held. There weren't any toys, only textbooks about science and math. His walls and his bed sheets and most of his clothes were muted colors: gray, brown, tan. He didn't mind, though. He loved everything about science and math and he didn't really care what he wore, so the clothes didn't bother him. He only wished that he had more Flash merchandise. Even after his powers, which were so much like Flash's, caused him all this grief, the Flash was still his favorite superhero. How could he stop worshipping the man who had saved so many people and been so amazing? Flash had been his only beacon of light in the world for a long, long time.

Wally convinced Lizzy to let him keep the textbooks even though he would never be able to read them again. He asked Martha to let him keep the pictures of Linda and himself even though he couldn't see them. The textbooks, the pictures, and the clothes he kept didn't even fill up a single cardboard box. Wally didn't want to keep anything else.

Three days later found Wally in a Gotham Catholic orphanage. Once arriving at the overly crowded house, the patron of the orphanage led Wally up the stairs to his new room. He was sharing it with seven other boys around his age. A boy had just moved out of the room, supposedly having been adopted by some billionaire or another. After helping Wally get his things into an ancient trunk at the foot of the bed, Father George, the patron, left, saying that Wally's roommates would be upstairs shortly.

Wally sat on his bed patiently, his cane propped up against the frame next to him. He reflected over some of the strange happenings that had occurred since his visit to his house. He had noticed his senses had increased to the point that he could hear Lizzy and Martha's heartbeats from across the room, smell the pine tree scent of Martha's car from a hundred feet away, feel the subtle shifts in the air when someone entered a room, taste the rain on the air before a storm even threatens to begin. He knew that wasn't normal. He also knew that this wasn't something that had happened to the Flash. The newly blinded boy had to assume that these new abilities came from a mixture of the chemicals and his loss of one of the five senses. He would just have to learn to control these things as well. He had gotten much better at not running/ vibrating when excited, but he still shook sometimes during a nightmare. He could read lower level Braille without any of the issues he had originally faced when gaining his powers. Wally still hadn't figured out how to deal with his eating problem and knew that he had to find a secondary supply of food because people didn't know about his appetite change and weren't feeding him enough.

Suddenly thundering steps startled him back into the real world and he tilted his head towards where he was pretty sure he remembered the door being. Seven heart beats slammed into existence in the room as the boys crowded around him, each of them jostling each other for a better view. One of them shifted closer, grabbing Wally's hand roughly, making Wally jump at the sudden contact, and shook it enthusiastically. He spoke with a blossoming arrogant attitude, "My name's Martin and I'm in charge of this room. We don't really want some blind kid slowing us down, so I'll make you a deal. You stay away from us and don't make a big deal about us 'not playing with you' and we don't beat the snot out of you. Got it, kid?"

So that was how it was going to be. Wally should have known that things wouldn't suddenly become perfect. He should have known that his life wasn't going to get better after so many hardships. His lips pursed and he spoke tersely, but still quietly, "I got it." Fine. See if he cares. They can go play their games and be friends and leave him out. That just meant that he had more time to get his powers under control and search for a secondary food source. He would let them do what they wanted. He'd never had a friend other than Linda before anyways. He didn't need anyone else.

Author's Note: Alrighty, here's the preview. If I get three reviews, I'll update another chapter. The next one should be Batman meeting Wally (probably).