Another fanfic today! Yea! I have had this idea for a long time.

Disclaimer: I don't own.

He was going to fail English. His teacher must hate him. How could he write a three paragraph essay about fire, which by the way is worth half his grade? Wally crumpled up his fifth sheet of paper and threw it on the ground. The zeta tubes announced the arrival of the blonde archer. He could here her heels click on the floor. She slid into the bar stool next to him.

"What's up, Wall-man?" she asked.

"I have to write a three paragraph essay about fire. How am I supposed to do that?" he responded, dejected. The gray eyed girl thought or a second, then inquired,

"Did your teacher say what type of fire you had to write about?" Wally looked at her like she was crazy.

"The only type of fire I know is the hot kind. What other kind is there?" Artemis sighed.

"Well, there's the blue kind, the white kind,there is the harmful kind, the helpful kind, the internal kind." She listed. Wally gets interested in the last part.

"What do you mean, the internal kind?" Wally asked.

"Well, when I was younger, my mom told me a story. Once there was a girl who had lost everything, was found by a boy who had everything. He took her to his house, and she felt content, bu the felt empty. The both moved through life, but his had no meaning, until one day, he saw her in the night, sitting by the pond, with fire in her hands. Sparked by curiosity, he went over. She told him that she noticed that he seemed to be lacking internal fire. She put the fire into his heart. From then on he had fire in his heart, and his life had meaning.

Internal fire is your drive in life. It what gives your life meaning. Does that answer your question?" Wally smiled.

"It also solves my problem."

Spitfire break line

The next day Wally handed in his paper. A week later the teacher handed back all the essays but Wally's. But no one noticed or cared (he wasn't exactly what you'd call popular).

"I have handed back all your essays. Most were good, some were horrible – one truly was atrocious – and one, one was truly amazing. I have taken it upon myself to read it. But first I want to introduce this essay.

"This essay talked about a different type of fire. It stood out from all the others. It had feeling emotion. I think you all could learn a thing or two from it. Here it is.

"The fire inside is kindled, cared for. Tended to the holder's wish. There is always fuel for the fire. Sometimes it can be anger or hate. Those are the deadly fires.
Some fires are ones of happiness or joy. Those are the gentle fires. Other fires are tended by sadness and despair. Those are the weak fires. Neither of these fires are dangerous. None of these fires are the most powerful.
The most powerful are the ones of love. These are the fires that can never be doused. These are the fires that can never be contained or controlled. My fire is one of love. She is my fire."

No it couldn't be. But it was.

"The author of this piece of writing is Wally West. Wally could you please tell us you inspiration for this?" Wally turned red.

"Um, well, I know this girl. She is amazing, talented, witty, funny, beautiful, and kick ass. She is my best friend. She doesn't let anyone tell her what to do or who to be, and she inspires me to do the same. She isn't just my fire, she is my life. She is fire. A spitfire."