Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Watchtower-Beta

March 10, 2019

12:04 UTC

Miss Martian stands on the deck of the recently-built Watchtower, which is filled with workers at their stations, giving their reports. This Watchtower is very different from the original one, which is now off-limits to anyone but the Lords. This one is purely functional, housing hundreds of monitor banks that keep watch over the entire world. The hourly reports are coming in, keeping them notified of the conditions below.

"Sector 7, all-clear."

"Sector 10, alert terminated."

"Sector 11, all-clear."

"Sector 19, all-clear."

"Sector 33, all-clear."

"Sector 50, all-clear."

"Sector 42, report delayed."

M'gann spins on her heel and walks over. :What's the trouble?: the Martian asks telepathically. She hasn't used speech to communicate with anyone outside the Lords in months. She doesn't wait for a response. It's a waste of time when she can simply reach into the man's head and pluck the information she needs from it.

:Ah. A storm. Everyone's been evacuated, nothing we can do.: She leaves the terminal and flies up to hover above the floor. :Continue. Sector 30.: The reports continue, but her brow is furrowed. We've fixed everything else. There must be a way to fix these storms. She makes a mental note to bring it up at the next meeting.

"All-clear."

"Sector 35, all-clear."

Elsewhere, Kaldur has communications open with the President. "I am sorry, but what you are suggesting does not seem prudent at this time."

"Well, it's kind of a tradition, y'know? Like Thanksgiving, or, or football. Folks aren't going to be too happy."

"They seem happy enough to me. And an election bears very little resemblance to football. There is much more to be lost."

"True enough." But the man would not let this go. "So…when do you think it might be a good time to have one?"

Kaldur holds back a sigh. Luthor was elected. And look how that turned out. Elections are far too risky. That would be impolitic, however. So he merely says, "Patience, Mr. President. Patience." Kaldur ends the call, and calls out, "Batwoman!"

Barbara's head pops up from her computer banks, and she makes her way over.

"Yes?"

"I will be journeying to Atlantis. I wish to see how King Garth is doing. You will remain behind to take command in my stead."

She nods and moves into his position, watching over the workers. He turns and headed for the Zeta tubes.

After they had removed the League from office, the next order of business had been Atlantis. King Orin had been taken care of, just like the rest of the League. Since Kaldur had refused the throne, it had been entrusted it to Garth instead. La'gaan was now the head of his guards.

Wonder Woman, formerly known as Donna Troy, and Red Hood, who had been the second Robin, both stand on the upper deck of the Beta-Watchtower. Both of them had returned to the Team after Wally's death, at the behest of Kaldur in order to depose their respective mentors. Donna wore her old costume of black and silver, with a few minor upgrades. And since Nightwing rarely left the Batcave, consumed by his hunt for some evidence that Wally was alive, Jason was the senior representative of the Batclan to the Lords.

"Looking at it—it's so peaceful. You'd never know just what a mess it used to be," Donna remarks.

"It was a hellhole, alright," Jason says, leaning on the railing. "I just can't believe that the League never got their act together. If it hadn't been for us…"

"Guess you were right all along," Donna concludes. "It's just a pity it took the rest of us so long to see it."

They had taken down a lot of villains, working together. And really taken them down—not just thrown them into jail and waited for them to break out. Why try and patch a broken system when you could just build a new system that actually worked?

Donna looks over at the wall where a hologram is projected, a picture showing the eight founding members of the Team. Rocket and Zatanna left the League to return to their old friends after the…incident, and are out on assignment right now. Artemis—now Tigress—is probably tracking down the last remnants of the League of Shadows. Superboy (now –man) is pulling public duty in Metropolis. But the most heartbreaking part of the picture is Wally, red hair tousled and green eyes shining as he smiles his familiar carefree life-is-great grin at the camera. He stands in the center of the group with one arm slung over Artemis's shoulder and one over Robin's, but his smile includes everyone around him.

"I keep expecting him to come running in at any moment," Jason says, looking over the globe below.

"And then say something really stupid, right?" Donna asks him with a wry grin.

Jason chuckles. "There was that," he admits.

"I miss him too, Jason," she says, quietly. "We all do."

There's a beeping from the screen. "Protest in Sector 34," Batwoman announces. "Could get ugly."

"We can take care of it," Donna offers.

"The police have it handled."

"Yes, but it's always good to show we have our eyes on things," the new Wonder Woman says, firmly.

Batwoman lets out a sigh. "Fine, if you're so desperate for a fight, go ahead."

Metropolis

March 10, 2019

8:34 EDT

Wonder Woman and Red Hood land on the roof of the building directly across the street from the Metro Tower. There are dozens of college students outside the base, waving signs and yelling about elections. Jason's fingers twitch for his guns, but Donna's hand on his arm stops him.

"No killing. It's just civilians. We start openly killing civvies and they never trust us again."

"Or we finally get the fucking point across," he growls. The protests bug him more than they should, but seriously!

People never cared when Gotham was a fucking shithole. Why are they so fucking worked up now, especially when the world's better off?

"Elections now! Elections now! Elections now!"

Jason's eye roll is hidden by his helmet. These idiots have no idea what they're asking for. Why does everyone care so much about fucking elections? You scribble something on a piece of paper and toss it in with a hundred other piss-poor votes like 'em just to wind up with some shmuck bastard running the show who'll wreck everything anyway.

"There's the police," Donna says, pointing down the street. They're marching in formation, riot armor on and shields raised. One of them launches a tear gas bomb, the students throw rocks in retaliation, and Jason starts to reach for his grapple gun. Wonder Woman puts her arm over his chest.

"Wait."

The kid who started the rock-throwing points up at them and shouts something. The students immediately start to scatter in all directions, the police catching and cuffing enough of them to make a point.

"Remember when people actually liked us?" Donna wonders aloud.

Jason shot her a look. "Since when has that bothered you?"

She looks at him with concern in her eyes. "Since I started seeing the fear on everyone's faces."

"You wanna talk about fear? When I was a kid, I went to bed every fucking night not sure if I was going to wake up to see the morning. So did everyone else in Crime Alley. That was just the way things were, and people accepted it. They didn't think there could be a better way, but we found one."

"So, do you sleep better now?" Donna asks with a suggestive smirk.

Jason's answering feral grin is hidden by his mask. "You know I do."

The Batcave

March 10, 2019

10:11 EDT

Nightwing bends over the computer, focusing on scanning for energy signatures. He didn't care that it had been almost three years. There was no evidence of a body, not even of scorching from disintegration. Wally wasn't dead. He couldn't be.

"Dick," a voice says from behind. Nightwing turned around to see Red Robin stepping out of the shadows.

"What is it, Tim?" he asks, sharply. "I need some time. I'm on a new lead here…"

"No, you're not."

Nightwing spins around to glare at his younger brother, who holds up his hands in a placating gesture. "Dick, we've been over this for over two years now. We have checked every energy signature, every trace, every anything that might possibly give us a clue. We've found nothing. It's time to move on."

"We can't!" Nightwing snaps. "If there's even a chance that he's alive, we have to find it! I'm not giving up!"

"Well, maybe it's time!" Tim yells back. "We worked for years to build this world up from the ground, and you won't even see it because you're too busy hiding in this cave! You're turning into Bruce!"

Dick, who has turned back to the computer, spins around again to give Tim his most deadly glare. "Don't you ever compare me to him," he says, angrily. "He tried to destroy his friends. I'm trying to save mine."

"You're chasing down the ghost of a friend who's been gone for years and leaving the rest of us to rot," Tim says in a voice that was closer to a snarl. "Is that what Wally would want?"

Dick turns back to the computer. "When I find him, I'll ask him," he says in a deadly voice. "And I will find him."

Tim stands there, not speaking. The faint whoosh of air that only a Bat could detect is the sole indicator that the third person to take up the mantle of Robin has left.

Chapter Text

North Pole

June 20, 2016—?

13:55 UTC

Cold. So cold. Of course it's cold, they're at the top of the world. His legs are starting to burn. He's out of shape. He hasn't had to do this in a while.

He knows the physics, of course. He knew what might happen as soon as he stepped into the Zeta tubes.

But they can't stop now. They can't stop until the alien tech is busted, or the Earth will fall.

That can't happen.

Suddenly, the burning sensation is gone, replaced by a tingly feeling. The lightning from the machine is crackling around them. He screams as it strikes him, again and again. He starts to flicker, feeling his form fading in and out.

Barry tries to place a hand on his shoulder, but it just passes through.

"It's no good, Barry. Oh, man! Artemis is so gonna kill me for this. And don't even get me started on Mom and Dad." He tries to be brave, but he can hear his voice quiver.

"Kid?" Barry demands, panic in his voice.

"Just tell them," he says, quietly. Barry will know exactly what he means. There's no point keeping up the jokes. Not when they all know what's happening. "Okay?" His voice doesn't crack. It rasps, but it doesn't crack.

"KID!" he hears Barry yell. He can feel himself disintegrate, swept away by the energy. That's where his awareness ends.

He's caught up in some massive force. It's circling around him, extending farther than he can comprehend in either direction. Where is he? What happened?

He's not dead. That's clear enough. Can he run?

He can, and he does. He runs in place, forcing himself at the outside, trying to break free. It takes a while, but he rams himself into the wall hard enough to break through. He's falling forward, face-planting on icy tundra. There's a vague recognition in his mind, but nothing clear as the world blurs to black.

Watchtower-Prime

March 17th, 2019

13:57 UTC

Batwoman, also known as Barbara Gordon, is monitoring global energy readings as part of her shift. There are the usual spikes from the Zeta tubes, a few additional ones from nuclear reactor sites, and—

Whoa. For some reason, the North Pole is going crazy. She hasn't seen energy readings like this since—since—

No. Way.

She slams her hand onto her comm so hard that she almost deafens herself with the feedback. But that is inconsequential. "Bart. Get your ass to the North Pole. Now."

"Wha…?"

Clearly, the speedster had been consumed in his favorite pastime—eating. "North Pole. Ten seconds ago. Energy signatures matching Reach tech."

"Gone." There's a whoosh, a spike of energy on the holographic globe streaking from somewhere in Tokyo to the North Pole, and the sound of a falling sandwich on the other end of the comm. That's the last recognizable sound before Bart degenerates into a babble of speedtalk. She catches her name, the sound of several swears that would make even the most profane abuser of the English language pause in awe, a few mentions of time travel, and more incomprehensible blabber about crashed

modes before she loses patience.

"Bart Allen, what the hell is happening?"

The pause on the other end almost makes her scream, but the answer that comes is worth it. Because after that answer, she will swear that the stars outside the window shine brighter, the beige floor is more colorful, the scent of flowers from the indoor arboretum is sweeter, and the green decorations Garfield insisted on putting up ("Come on! A green holiday? This was made for me!") are that much more verdant. Because that answer makes the red-haired memorial hologram that can be seen from anywhere on the upper decks smile just a little bit wider. Because the answer means that for the first time in a thousand days, there's that much more brightness and hope back in the world.

Because Bart's answer is: "It's Wally. He's—alive!"

It only takes a matter of seconds for Bart to bring Wally to the nearest Zeta tube and beam him up to the Watchtower, and it takes only minutes to confirm what they actually need to know. Yes, it is Wally. Yes, he is theirs. No, this is not a clone or a Cadmus trick. Yes, he is alive.

At first it is kept quiet, under wraps. The only three people who know are M'gann, Barbara, and Bart. But as soon as everything is checked out, there's no point hiding. The call goes out immediately.

Dick is the first to show up, surprising no one. He stops dead at the door of the hospital room, stares for five minutes, lets out a long string of indecipherable expletives, gives Wally's unconscious form a bone-cracking hug, and settles in to keep watch and glare at anyone else who enters the room.

Artemis is the next to arrive. She comes in slowly, her cat-face mask off but her

poker face on, studying Wally intently from all angles. Finally, she sinks into a chair next to his bed and takes his hand in a death grip, ignoring the tears that trickle down her cheeks.

Kaldur and Conner arrive simultaneously. Both of them take a moment to stare at Wally's prone form before standing protectively next to his bed. M'gann joins them to complete the circle.

Wally looks so young—younger than any of them, really. It's not just the fact that he's still twenty-one, the same age as Dick now. There's still a sense of innocence to his face that the rest of them lost in their takeover of the Earth.

One thought is echoing among them, even without the mind link.

Wally is back. Our Wally is back. Our friend, our brother, is alive. And we are going to keep him that way.

"What will he think?" Conner asks suddenly. "What will he try to do?"

They all exchange glances.

"He will not understand," Kaldur says. "Not at first. We will have to explain it to him. But before then, he might be…difficult."

:We might have to contain him: M'gann adds. :I find the idea as distasteful as the rest of you, but perhaps…an inhibitor collar? Just until he understands the way things have to be now?:

"I have some in the Cave," Dick says. They all look at him, slightly surprised. He shrugs, unfazed. "What? I have one to block the powers of anyone on the League or Team. Just in case."

"I'll go get it," Conner said. "When do we let everyone else know?"

They exchange glances, but it is Artemis who decides. "When he wakes up."

Watchtower-Prime

March 17th

15:44 UTC

Wally wakes up slowly. He's lying in a hospital bed, which he's honestly used to after spending so much time in one during his Kid Flash days.

Mmmm. God, my head hurts. What happened?

He quickly takes inventory. Head, obviously. Arm, arm, leg, leg, torso, all in good shape. A small movement, however, sends aches shooting through his body. Okay. Maybe not good shape. But okay shape.

"Wally?" The voice is choked and almost strangled, as though it's lost hope too many times before to hope now. Blearily, he flutters his eyelids enough to see the source of the voice. A familiar head of blonde hair greets him, though the costume she wears is different. Is she still on an undercover mission?

"Hey, babe. How's my favorite ninja girlfriend?"

Before he can pull away, Wally is yanked into a deep, passionate kiss with his girlfriend. There's more than a hint of desperation to it, however.

"Whoa, babe!" he says, pulling away.

"You're an idiot, Baywatch," she mutters, wiping roughly at her eyes. "Don't ever do that again."

"Wally?" Another familiar voice. Wally looks up to see Nightwing entering the room hesitantly.

"Hey, Wingnut! How's tricks?"

Dick gives him a relieved smile, but it doesn't last long, vanishing as quickly as a bag of Chicken Whizzees in Bart's possession. "Wally, what's the last thing you remember?"

Wally takes a moment to think about it. "Well, I was with Uncle Barry and Bart, and we were at the North Pole, and we were doing the whole run-to-shut-down-evil-alien-tech thing, Then that creepy energy stats to zap me, and after that it all goes kinda fuzzy. Next thing I know, I'm here. Why?" As he talks, he reaches up to rub at the back of his neck in an unconscious gesture and touches a thin, cool band of metal. "What the—"

It's a hunch, but one he can't ignore. Wally attempts to vibrate, just to prove to himself that no, it can't be what he's thinking, no, this can't be happening, no, his friends wouldn't do this to him.

Any attempts to access his super-speed are futile. Even without it though, he has years of training with Black Canary to fall back on. He rolls off the bed and lands on his feet in a defensive stance, keeping the cot between himself and the people who have got to be imposters, or clones, or shapeshifters, because no way would his friends ever put an inhibitor collar on him.

"Who are you?" he demands, glaring at the two of them coldly.

Not-Artemis gets this heartbroken look on her face. "Wally—"

"Who are you? Where're my friends? What have you done to them? If you hurt them, I swear—"

"Wally, you need to listen to us. It's not like what you think. Things have changed. We've changed." Not-Nightwing is trying to talk, but he's not making any sense.

"I was just at the North Pole! How long was I out?"

"Wally." Not-Artemis is speaking again. But—she looks so familiar. Is it possible…? "It's been three years."

He freezes. "What." It's not a question. It's too shocked, full of too much disbelief to be a question.

"Wally, as far as the world knows, Kid Flash died on June 20th, 2016, while using his kinetic energy to counter a piece of Reach tech. That's what we thought, too." Not-Nightwing/Real-Nightwing (?) says, and there's so much pain in his voice that Wally knows it can't be a lie. "Today is March 17th, 2019. Exactly one thousand days since you vanished."

"That still doesn't explain why my best pal and my girlfriend stuck an inhibitor collar on me," he says in an angry voice.

"Things have changed, Wally," Maybe-Nightwing repeats. "Changed for the better."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes," Maybe-Artemis says. "Please, will you just listen?"

Wally hesitates. He doesn't know whether to answer yes or no when there's a commotion outside the door. He hears Conner yelling, Kaldur giving orders, and Babs threatening death.

"Come on, jefes, just let us see him."

Who's that?

"ComeoncomeonyougottaletmeinIgottaseehim!"

Wally blinks. Speedtalk—is that Bart?

"Bart?" he asks, aloud. There's an instant of silence before the door is broken down and an overeager young speedster, a teen in blue armor, another teen with dark brown skin and straggling dreadlocks, and a green tiger burst into the room. They all tackle Wally at once, babbling in English, Spanish, speedtalk, and occasionally a mix of all three.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! What's going on?" Wally demands, trying to push away. It's rather difficult, however, to pry off the red-and-white garbed cousin that has attached himself to his side.

"Bart?" Wally asks. His cousin has grown since the last time Wally saw him.

"You'realiveyou'realiveyou'rereallyaliveandyourehereandit'sallokaynowandyou're alive!" Bart babbles.

"Whoa. Bart, slow down." Wally manages to look up from his hyperactive cousin and see Garfield Logan, Blue Beetle, and some kid he doesn't recognize. "Um, who's this?"

The kid waves. "Virgil Hawkins. Static. You must be Wally West."

"Yeah. Oof. Hi. Bart, can you get off me now?"

"No."

"Oooo-kaaay…Bart, seriously. Let go."

There's a final squeeze that knocks the wind out of him before Bart reluctantly peels himself away. He still doesn't stay more than a foot back. Any attempt at relief from the hugging brigade is a futile exercise, however, as Garfield, thankfully now back in human form, tackles him as well.

"What's with all the hugging?" Wally demands.

"I'm just so happy you're alive!" M'gann's little brother cries. "And you!" He keeps one arm around the speedster, but points the other one at Nightwing. "I told you. No more faking anybody's death for at least a year."

Nightwing gives a small smile. "We didn't plan this, Gar."

"Yeah, right."

"Listen, can you guys leave now? We need to talk to Wally."

The four teens exchanged looks. "But…"

Artemis narrows her eyes. "Go."

Gar gives Wally one last squeeze, waves, and follows the others out of the room. Wally watches as the door shut behind them, and turns back to Artemis and Dick before starting to pace.

"Okay. Let's say that, hypothetically, I actually believe what you're telling me. I accept that…somehow…I got sucked into a vortex or whatever and wound up two years in the future." He gestures around the room. "I know for a fact that the Mountain got destroyed, and I've spent so much time in the medical rooms there and in the Hall of Justice—also decimated—that I'd know them anywhere. We are not in Mount Justice, so we must be on the Watchtower. If that's the case—" he spins around to stare them both in the face. "Why isn't Batman or Uncle Barry in here breathing down my neck right now?"

The silence coming from them is terrifying and all the answer he needs.

"Where are they?" he asks, almost afraid of the answer.

Artemis stares him directly in the eyes. "Things have changed, Wally."

He is so, so, sick of that phrase right now.

"Will you quit saying that?" Wally wants to break something. "What have you guys done?"

Nightwing's eyes are cold. "Made a better world, Wally."

They think…they honestly think…God.

He turns away bitterly, facing the wall. "Get out."

"Wally…"

"Get. Out. Both of you."

He hears a small sound, as though Artemis just choked on a sob, but he doesn't look. He knows that if he looks, he won't be able to do this. And he has to do this. He has to be cold.

There's a sound of a door opening and closing, and he knows that they are gone. Wally falls across his hospital bed, rubbing his hand across his new piece of 'jewelry.'

I just woke up when I thought I never would again. I beat the alien invasion and stopped the end of the world.

So why does it feel…like I didn't?

Outside the hospital room, the teen working on the inside to help regain control of the world reaches up to touch his comm. It's been specially reinforced to slip past Barbara's sensors, a feat that should be impossible.

But as he's learned in the last three years, nothing is impossible anymore.

"Did you get all that?"

He speaks in a whisper, barely moving his lips. The microphone glued to his throat picks up the vibrations and changes them into sound as part of the transmission. The person on the other end views the video footage from the special iris-camera that's now in a contact lens on the teen's eye. When sneaking a spy into the ranks of the Justice Lords, it's best to be discreet.

"Yes. It's him."

"What now?"

"Now, we wait. We've been working too long to slip up and get caught now."

"You do know we're on a time limit."

"Better than you do. But we still need to finish putting everything together. He may be what we've been waiting for, or he may be what puts us on the losing side for good. If we play our cards right, we fix everything. Play them wrong, and we're stuck like this without another hope. For now, just keep an eye on him. We'll get him to the surface soon enough."

"Copy that. Signing off." The teen turns off the transmission and slips back into the main hall to join the other three.

They don't know what he's doing. And if the plan works, they never will.

Chapter Text

Watchtower-Prime

March 17th

16:31 UTC

Wally's laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, when there's a knock at the door.

"Unless you're either willing to take off the inhibitor collar or tell me where my family is, you can just stay out there!" he yells.

"Dude, I've got food out here, and if you won't eat it, I will." a recognizable voice calls from the other side of the door.

Wally blinks. Is that really…

He slowly gets to his feet and opens the door.

A familiar figure stands there. The height and white streak in the dark hair aren't familiar, but the sardonic grin, sunglasses, and voice totally are.

"Jason?"

"The one and only. Plan on letting me in?"

He's holding a tray piled high with burgers, fries, fruit, veggies, sausages, cookies, and other food items that Wally's stomach recognizes. It immediately starts up a chorus of growls, reminding him that he hasn't eaten in—

Whoa. Two years. Man, time travel sucks.

Wally tries to snatch the tray, but Jason lifts it away. "Move, West."

The speedster scoots out of the way as the second, former Robin enters the room and sets the food down. Wally's on it in an instant, devouring the food. Even though he's got the collar on, it hasn't shut down his metabolism.

Stupid piece of junk.

After he's gotten enough food in him that he doesn't feel the urge to devour the bed, he eats at a more leisurely pace while watching Jason, who has settled into a careful slump on the wall. The lazy posture hides the fact that he's ready to jump into action at any moment.

"So, mmf, why are you really here?" Wally asks, swallowing a mouthful. "And—how are you here? Sorry, but aren't you dead?"

"Look who's talking, mega mouth."

Wally rolls his eyes. "Fine. Point made. Well, my story's that same old boring time travel spiel you already got from Wingnut, so you spill."

"Very long story, very small nutshell. Lazarus pits. Ra's al fucking Ghul. Guy decided he 'owed' Bats for getting involved with the Joker, so he resurrected me. Busted out of his complex, ran around Gotham for a couple months. Bird-brain and Replacement found me and offered me a 'position' taking down the rest of those fucking Shadows. As for the why…" he gives a shrug. "Figured you might wanna talk to another guy who spent a couple of years being dead."

Wally finishes off the fries. "Does that mean I get answers now?"

Jason settles into a chair and tips it back against the wall, propping his feet up on the bed. "Well, I haven't been cleared by the Golden Boy…but when has that ever stopped me?"

The former Kid Flash settles on his own chair, facing backwards, setting his arms on top of the chair back and putting his chin on them. "So spill. What the hell happened to everyone while I was gone?"

Jason lets out a sigh and rubs his head. "Right after you kkkccchhh?" He yanks a finger across his throat to illustrate his point. "Honestly, I don't know. All of a sudden, the Justice League vanishes, the UN gets shut down, and so does every other government organization on the face of the planet. The Team goes public, calling themselves the Justice Lords, and takes over. All that good old batshit crazy stuff. That's when I came in. I helped 'em take down the baddies, for good. That's what we do now. They can't hurt anyone, can't trick the system, can't play for a light sentence. The crime rates have dropped to zero."

Wally feels slightly sick, and he has a feeling it isn't from the food. "And…the League?"

Jason shrugs but at least has the decency not to look him in the eyes. "I don't know. And at this point, I don't care."

That's when Wally gets just how much everything has changed. The coldness in Jason's demeanor acts as a mental bucket of ice water to the face.

Wally closes his eyes and face-plants on his arms.

"Tell me something," he says to the room. "Have I gone crazy? Am I in a hospital right now with a padded cell and nice doctors coming along and telling me to take the nice pills to make the visions go away?"

His attempt at a joke falls horribly flat, and he hears Jason let out a loud, exasperated sigh.

There isn't even a knock to alert them to Conner, who barges into the room and flops on a chair. Wally raises an eyebrow. The Kryptonian hybrid's undergone a costume change since the last time Wally's seen him. He's dressed in a version of Superman's outfit, except it's black and red instead of blue and red. And, a total shock—he's wearing a cape.

"Aren't you the same guy that said, 'No capes, no tights?'" Wally asks, squinting at the outfit. "And, 'I hate monkey suits?'"

Conner rubs his eyes. "Part of the job description now." He directs a glare at Jason. "What are you doing in here?"

"Oh, you know. Providing room service. Chatting with a fellow dead guy. The usual." He returned the glare.

Wally just barely held back a sigh. It seemed that the two of them still didn't get along. Their first meeting, a few years ago, had not gone well. Jason had been visiting the Cave for the first time, dressed in the Robin costume, and had tried to flirt with M'gann after making a crack at Superboy about being a clone. Friction had been creating itself ever since. Even coming back from the dead apparently hadn't granted Jason amnesty.

"So!" Wally says, trying to break the mood. He has his always-happy mask on, the one he's perfected after years of defusing tense situations. "Food was great, but apparently, I have been out of it for a couple years. So, I am now extremely curious about what the Watchtower looks like now. Who's up for giving me a tour?"

Both of the other men exchange a 'should-we-tell-him?' look.

Wally's really starting to hate that look. It's usually followed up by a 'things have changed.'

"Wally…" Conner starts in a too-patient tone.

"If you say 'things have changed,' I'm going to steal some Kryptonite from Nightwing and shove it down your throat," Wally snaps.

Jason snorts. "Hell, I'll sell you some."

"Shut up," Conner mutters.

Wally lets out a loud groan and flings his head back. It promptly slams into the wall.

"Ow," he says with a hint of surprise, rubbing the sore spot. "How long has the wall been there? Seriously, is there any way I can get out of this room? I am going crazy."

"Is it even possible to tell anymore with you?" Jason asks.

Wally clutches dramatically at his chest. "Oh, that hurts. But I still need to get out of this room. Hey!" He pointed a finger at both of them. "No changing the subject. Am I getting out of here?"

"Not yet," Jason admits. "We're waiting for Nightwing to clear you."

A scowl creeps across the redhead's face as he remembers meeting his old friend again. "Fine. In that case, where the hell is my uncle?"

At this point, Wally isn't really expecting an answer. He just wants an excuse to yell at them.

Jason shoots a significant glance at Conner. "Yeah, Boy Scout the second. Where is the League? Or wait, am I not trusted enough to know that? I mean, I've only spent what, a year or two saving your collective asses?"

"Whoa, wait. Is?" Wally knows that this is just the continuation of some argument he's missed, but the phrasing caught his attention. "They're alive?"

Jason looks like he's caught somewhere between chagrin and a smirk. Conner just goes into his stony-faced silence mode.

"I have to go," Conner says. "Hood, Batwoman's looking for you." He gets up and leaves, taking the tray. Jason follows.

And Wally is once more left alone in the room with his frustration and boredom.

He vows vengeance on the next person to walk through the door.

Watchtower-Prime

March 17

19:12 UTC

By the time Bart comes in, dressed in civvies, Wally has retracted said vow on the condition that whoever comes in is willing to provide either answers or more food.

His cousin has neither, so Wally is ready and willing to throw him out again.

Unfortunately, Bart has the access code overrides for the door and Wally does not, so the older speedster has no choice but to put a pillow over his head and ignore his cousin until he goes away.

It doesn't work.

The pillow is yanked unceremoniously away and a fist raps a superspeed tattoo against his head.

"What is that for?'

"Up and at em, cuz! Modes to crash, stuff to do, people to meet!"

"Yeah, well, I'm under house arrest and in an inhibitor collar, and I don't really want to crash anything. So just, go away. Thank you."

"Oh, c'mon! I got special permission from Nightwing to spring you for a walk around the Tower. So let's go already!"

Wally lifts his head, a spark of interest popping up for the first time. "Seriously?"

"Tchh, dude. You doubt my skills?"

"Well…"

"Don't answer that. Let's go!"

Bart grabs Wally's arm and hauls him off the bed and out the door, chattering away as fast as he can go. Wally semi-ignores him, until he realizes a very important fact. The younger speedster has been here since Wally's 'death,' and Barry is his grandfather. Doesn't it make sense that he would keep tabs on him?

"Hey, Bart, do you know what happened to Uncle B?"

The time traveler freezes.

"What? Um, no, no! I mean, why would I know, right? That's all Lord stuff, and I'm technically still on the Team, but...you know what I mean! Anyway…"

"Bart, where's Barry?" Wally demands again. "Where's the rest of the League?"

Miraculously, Bart actually looks serious for once. He sighs and lets go of Wally's arm before running a hand through his hair.

"I don't know. No one on the Team does. It's just the older five, and they won't tell us. We know they aren't dead, because they wouldn't do that, but…"

"I don't know," Wally says bitterly. "Seems like they've done a lot of stuff they 'never would have'."

"Yeah, but…things really are better."

"Oh yeah?"

"Wally…" Bart stops outside a porthole and gestures at the Earth. "They—we've—really done it. Made a world where there's no crime, no violence, no pain—"

"And no choice." Wally spins around to face his little cousin. "And you're just okay with all of this? Killing people who step out of line? They may make mistakes, but they're still people, Bart! Since when has killing them been okay?"

"Since Captain Cold killed Grandma Iris!" Bart bursts out. He immediately claps his hands over his mouth, looking horrified.

Wally stops dead in the middle of the hallway.

I didn't just hear that. I couldn't have just heard that. There is no possible way I just heard that.

"What?" Wally whispers.

Bart looks terrified, guilty, and on the verge of tears all at the same time. "I wasn't supposed to—Nightwing told me not shock you—I'm sorry!"

"Bart," Wally says gently, trying not to traumatize his cousin any more than he already is. "What happened?

Impulse looks ready to crawl into a hole and die himself, so Wally helps him over to a bench and puts an arm around his shoulders. It takes Bart a few minutes to get himself together, but once he does, the story isn't one Wally wants to hear.

"It—it was a couple months after you—after you—" he gulps and chokes. "Well, after…the North Pole. The Team was devastated. Nightwing vanished for a month and we found him again dead drunk, yelling at your grave."

Wally blinks at this bit of news. "Seriously?"

Bart nods. "He still won't talk about what happened. Anyway, after he got back, the older members started acting really weird. Secret meetings, muttered conversations, avoiding the League. I kept catching them around the Watchtower, but they wouldn't talk to me. It was so moded.

"Anyway, I tried to stay out of the way as much as possible. I was trying to help out Grandpa B, so I mostly stayed in Central. One day, we got an alert—Cold was attacking the GBS news station. We got right down there to help out." Bart shivers in remembering. "The whole place was iced over. It was too hard to get a grip, and we couldn't get inside. Then something happened…I guess the cold gun ruptured the tanks or something, and the whole place blew sky-high." Bart clenches his fists. "Except Cold wasn't there. He had already gotten away. Grandma was inside." The younger speedster closes his eyes, trying to wipe the image of the burning building from his mind. "I…ran away." That was the hardest thing to admit. Not the fact that he had seen his grandmother's job explode, taking a dozen people with it, but the fact that he had run away as soon as he realized what was happening. "I just panicked and bailed and ran out to some deserted island somewhere. Tigress found me the next day and brought me back. By then, the Watchtower was mostly empty, but I didn't even notice. It was all kind of a blur. I just remember waking up in my room and looking around and not seeing any members of the League. Haven't seen any since. Not even Grandpa. A couple weeks later, I got out of the Watchtower and the world was in lockdown. Everyone traveling in other countries had been deported home, the UN was shut down, every member of the Light was dead, and the League had vanished."

Wally just sits there, trying to make his brain work even though it doesn't want to do anything at the moment except run in circles and chant Aunt Iris is dead, Aunt Iris is dead.

Somehow, that gives his mind another direction to go in as he realizes something. "But—what about your dad? The twins?"

The sudden realization makes his stomach drop out. Aunt Iris was six months along when he—left. And if Bart's dad was dead…

Bart closes his eyes and looks down. "It was supposed to be her last day before maternity leave." He swallows hard. "Batwoman figures that with all the stuff I managed to change, I'm technically from an alternate reality now. So I'm okay. That didn't affect me."

"Batwoman? You mean Babs?"

"Yeah. She thought Batwoman was better than Batgirl. Go figure."

Wally knows that he's already caused his cousin plenty of trauma today, but he has to ask one more question. "Do you know anything about what happened to the League?"

Bart glances nervously around. "Wally, please stop asking questions about that. Batwoman hears me talking, she'll put me on mode so fast even I won't see it coming."

The last thing Wally wants to do is stop. But his cousin is giving him the big puppy-dog eyes, and he's doing that thing where his lip trembles, and it's all too cute and pathetic to say no to for long.

"All right, all right! Just…stop that, okay?"

Bart switches to a beaming, cheeky grin so fast that Wally knows he's been duped. "Crash. Now come on!"

Wally spends the next hour being shown around the Watchtower, first by Bart, and then joined by Blue Beetle, Beast Boy, and Static. Garfield is delighted to see him, hugging him again and chattering and insisting on showing him the updated souvenir room (and it's honestly touching how much of the goofy stuff he's grabbed on missions that they've kept).

Blue Beetle and Bart seem very close, judging from the friendly nudges and bumps they give each other. Wally will swear that he sees them holding hands at one point, and files it away for future, key, blackmail material.

The tour is…nice, he supposes, for lack of a better word. Not much has changed, but when he looks out the window, he can see another Watchtower, much more high-tech and space-agey.

"That's the Beta Watchtower. It's where the monitor stations are. Got the whole world covered. Needed another place. This one was always…well, private," Bart explains.

"I helped build it," Virgil admits proudly. He holds out his hand and uses his powers to levitate a soda from the machine on the wall. "It was really cool."

There are near-silent footsteps behind them. Wally can only detect them because right now he's on hair-trigger nerves, and he has years of experience knowing when Bats are sneaking up on him. He turns around to see (surprise, surprise) Nightwing.

"Hey," Wally says, dully. There's a little part of his brain still running around in circles, trying to grasp the fact that Aunt Iris is dead, and a larger part wanting to throttle his best friend, but the majority has apparently reached the consensus that he has just woken up in a world that is totally different and weird and that any familiar face at this point is comforting.

"Hey," Nightwing mutters in reply.

The younger kids, who have apparently developed an excellent sense of self-preservation, slip away and avoid the confrontation. Wally absently notes that Bart and Jaime go off in one direction and Gar and Virgil go off in their own separate directions.

Oh, Bart is so getting teased about this later.

The two former friends just stand there awkwardly, neither sure of what to say. Wally wants to yell at Nightwing some more, remind him of everything he used to be, of how fundamentally wrong it is that he's doing this. But after hearing Bart's story, well…

"Why didn't you tell me about Iris?"

Nightwing looks guilty, which Wally supposes is a point in his favor. "Wally, you just got thrown two years into the future. You were freaking out enough already. Didn't seem right to dump it on you. Besides…you're the one who threw us out."

Wally doesn't even have the energy to scowl at this point.

Oh wait, yeah he does.

"Well, maybe it would have been harder to throw you out if we had actually been in my room. In my apartment. On Earth. Which you conquered." Okay, that was a really pathetic line of reasoning.

Dick lets out a groan. "Look, Wally…you've been pretty much dead for three years. I thought we'd lost you for good. Can we just…not fight for maybe five minutes?"

Wally rubs his head. "Fine."

There's a long, awkward silence between the two of them, until Wally breaks it by asking, "So, do you actually remember what we talked about? When not fighting?"

The familiar smirk crept back over Dick's face. "Well, we could discuss your insane insistence that pirates are still better than ninjas over a couple of bologna sandwiches."

"Dude, you're still serious about that?" Wally squints at his friend for a moment, causing the smirk to falter, before he busts out in a grin. "Pirates are way better than ninjas! They have treasure! And fancy bandannas! And parrots!"

Dick's fading grin breaks out in full force, and he loops an arm over Wally's shoulders as the two of them trek down the corridor to the kitchen (It's still in the same place, and still fully stocked. Score!).

And for a few moments, Wally can forget the collar, forget that his family is gone, forget that he's been dumped into a world where nothing makes sense, and forget the dead look he could almost see lurking under his best friend's cheeky grin.

Though even with the sandwiches, and the grins, and the same dumb debate over the same stupid issue, there's still that hostile undercurrent lurking underneath.

So it's okay. It's not perfect, not by any stretch of the imagination, but it's okay.

But he still can't shake the feeling that all this okayness is stretched thin over a whole lot of mess. And when it breaks loose (because you know it will) it's going to bring all hell with it.

So for now, okay is enough.

But he knows better to think that it will last.

Chapter Text

Watchtower-Prime

March 17th

20:47 UTC

And unfortunately, and yet all too predictably, it doesn't. The newfound peace lasts for a grand total of twenty-seven minutes (Wally times it).

He's on his fifth sandwich and reiterating his best arguments when M'gann floats into the kitchen. She's dressed in her old stealth uniform, but with a much longer cape that swishes down to her ankles and a tall hood that hides almost her entire face.

Wally grins at her. "Hey, Greench—whoa!"

She's pulled down her hood to reveal that her skin has gone from the green Wally remembers to a bone-pale white.

She still gives him a friendly smile, or an approximation of one, but it takes him a moment to adapt to her changed appearance and the shock of bright red eyes, like her uncle's, against alabaster skin.

:Nobody's called me that in a while: she remarks.

Wally rubs his temple, where the faint buzz that accompanies telepathy has reasserted itself. "And nobody's talked in my head in a while either. What's up with the new look?"

She runs her right finger along her left hand. :I just decided to accept my heritage, I suppose. And I don't have to be afraid anymore.: She steps forward and hugs Wally. :It's so good to see you, Wally. We've missed you.:

Wally hugs her back, happy to see one of the friendliest faces he knows. Knew. Time travel definitely sucks.

"Good to see you too."

He lets go and frowns when he realizes she's no longer paying attention to him. She's staring intently at Nightwing, a familiar look in her eyes. Wally concentrates on the little spot in his temple that always itches when she uses telepathy and tries to break into the conversation.

:—one of the inmates acting up again. I don't know how much longer telepathy's going—: She turns her head and stares directly at Wally, who's staring at the two of them with wide eyes. :Wally, it's not nice to eavesdrop.:

Wally swallows. Hard. Because those red eyes suddenly seem very, very frightening. Oh, crap.

"Sorry," he says, trying to look apologetic. "I just—I just—who are the inmates?"

They both go all stony-faced and Wally knows that he has asked the wrong question.

"You don't need to worry about that, Wally," Dick said.

"Uh, are you sure?"

Their glares convince him.

:You must be tired, Wally. Can you find your way back to your room?: M'gann asks. It's not so much asking as ordering, however, so he doesn't bother arguing. He just nods, and turns around to leave the kitchen.

"Wally," Dick calls. Wally turns around to face his old friend, who gives him a pained smile. "It—it really is good to have you back," he says.

The speedster isn't sure who Dick's trying to convince—himself or Wally.

"Yeah," the redhead manages to get out. "Great."

He leaves the room and makes his way back to the hospital wing, finding his 'room' and flopping down on the bed.

Cell sweet cell.

Apparently, jumping through time to a freaky future took even more effort than he realized. Wally's out like a light in moments.

Watchtower-Prime

March 18th

7:03 UTC

Wally wakes up slowly. It takes him a couple minutes to remember that he's on the Watchtower, he's been declared dead for three years, his friends have slapped and inhibitor collar on him, and oh yeah, Aunt Iris is dead.

Life? Sucks.

There's a small sproing and a faint, soft impact against his nose. He scrunches his eyelids and twitches in annoyance. As he does, he's dimly aware of several other small items scattered around his person.

Another sproing and another impact cause Wally to reach up and brush at his face. He comes away with several small oval discs.

Wha…?

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty," an all-too-familiar voice remarks.

Oh, noooo…

"Babs…" he mutters, irritation and exhaustion combating in his voice. "Why?"

"Well, I have been assigned as your designated babysitter for the day, which I'm sure you're as happy about as I am, so I figured the best thing to do would be to sit here and let you sleep. I got bored real quick, though, and there's nothing interesting left to hack, so…"

"So, you started using a rubber band to shoot Bat-chips at me?" Wally demands, picking up one of the little things she had been flicking at him. They were small yellow ovals with miniature bat-symbols on them, about the size of a pressed penny. "Why do you even have these?"

"Would you believe for these exact circumstances?"

Wally ponders both the unlikelihood of these exact circumstances and his many years of experience with Bat-paranoia.

Bat-paranoia wins.

"Yes."

Barbara Gordon smirks. "Actually, I have them for poker night with Tim."

"Where is the bird-brain?" Wally wonders. As far as he remembers, the youngest Robin actually liked him. Not as much as the first, but as much as a Bat can be reasonably expected to like someone who isn't their best friend or significant other. Or at least Tim was okay with Wally corrupting him.

Hey, in his defense, Dick helped. And the karaoke trip to Tokyo was totally the acrobat's idea. And fault.

So what if he went along with it? He had just finished a stressful final. Wasn't he owed some off time?

"Hiding somewhere in the Middle East. He kinda yelled at Dick the other day for still not being over your…um, death. That reminds me."

Before Wally could protest or react, Babs reached over and smacked him.

"And that's for making us all miserable for three years!" Batwoman snapped. "What the hell did you think you were doing?"

"What? Don't I get any credit for saving the world?"

"Not when you're so cheeky about it."

"Cheeky?" Wally gasps. "You wound me."

"Shut up and eat your breakfast."

"Breakfast?" That one word has the power to immediately gain his attention and set him to looking around. "Where?"

She moves her legs, which are propped up on his bed, and shoves a tray at him piled with food. "Knock yourself out. Please. It'll make my job less work."

He rolls his eyes in response, his quick comeback smothered by the pancake already stuffed in his mouth.

There's a beeping noise and Babs pulls up her holo-computer and curses, her annoyed eyes hidden by her new cowl that resembles Batman's a lot more than the old one did. This one completely hides her hair and covers a lot more of her face, only exposing her lips and chin. It's still a bit more feminine, thankfully, so Wally doesn't feel too much like he's being glared at by Bruce.

Wally ponders whether or not attempting to get answers out of the woman would be worth it. So far, he's only managed to get information out of Bart and Jason, and even that was limited. Given the cold responses of Miss M, Nightwing, and Conner, plus Bart mentioning Batwoman putting him on-mode…

Yeah, maybe not worth it. Although…

He takes a moment to chew a piece of bacon, quickly mentally reckon up any and all blackmail material he has ever had on Babs, and estimate how much of it will still be valid.

Actually, totally worth it.

"So, what's on the computer?"

She doesn't even look up. "It's all about this fascinating place called None of Your Business."

"Awwww, come on? For me?" he asks, giving her his best puppy dog eyes.

Babs looks up and he has a feeling she's raising her eyebrows. "You are not nearly as adorable as you think you are."

Wally pouts. Of course I am. "Come on, you can tell me!"

She collapses the holo-screen and shrugs. "Nothing important. Just an alert in Sector 24. One of the Team can handle it."

"Two questions: what's Sector 24, and who's still on the Team?"

"Static, Blue Beetle, Impulse, Beast Boy, and Wonder Girl are still on the Team. Red Robin's acting leader." At Wally's quizzical look, she explains, "Tim wanted a new name. Sector 24 is Central City."

A thought hits Wally with the force of a train. "Is…" he swallows hard and tries again. "Is my aunt…down there?"

Babs gives him a look, and he's grateful that the cowl completely covers her eyes, or he knows they would be full of pity.

"Yes."

"Can I…" his voice is cracking again. He hates that. "Can I see her?"

She's definitely giving him a pitying look now but he doesn't care. He has to go see the grave. He doesn't know why, but he knows, more surely than he has ever known anything in his life, that he has to see his Aunt one last time.

"Wally…"

"Babs," he says, managing to get some control over his voice. "Please."

She lets out a sigh. "I'll see what I can do."

Wally gives her a faint grin. "You're the best, Babs."

"I know."

He rolls his eyes and returns to his breakfast as she calls up her holo-computer again and starts messing with some files.

Central City

March 18th

2:10 CDT

The member of the Team assigned to deal with the crisis slips out of the Zeta tube and along the shadow of the wall. When he first joined the Team, he hadn't been very stealthy, because he hadn't needed to be.

Now? Let's just say that spending two years in a deep-cover mission forces a person to become very good at stealth, very fast.

There's a soft twang that he just barely hears, and a moment later, a buzz of static comes from his comm signaling that it's no longer transmitting as the EMP emitter fired into the wall near him kicks in. It won't be long before Batwoman detects it and forces a reboot, which means that this will have to be fast.

"We clear?"

The voice comes from his left. The teen nods as a soft thud heralds his contact landing on the floor of the alleyway.

"Clear."

A second shadow peels silently away from the wall to join the first, her sai at the ready. Her graceful posture is not in the least hindered by the baby in the carrier on her back.

"Nice distraction. Get anything for your troubles?" the teen asks. He knew that it was the two of them as soon as the alarm went off at the museum, which is why he'd offered to go. He's been expecting something like this ever since he made his transmission.

The woman's smirk is hidden by her catlike mask. "A few nice things. And at least it was an interesting date."

"Back on subject." The man's voice is harsh and businesslike. "What's the status on Wally?"

"It's definitely him. They've got him in an inhibitor collar and on lockdown on the Tower." The spy shakes his head. "I still can't believe it's him. All the stories, all…this…" he gestures at the world in a general expression to try and convey what he means. "I guess I thought he's be…I don't know, taller."

"He won't be too happy about the lockdown," the man muses. "He was always hard to hang onto. How are the others taking it?"

"About that…" the woman says calmly, her tone suggesting new information. "I was approached by my sister yesterday."

"What?" The shocked exclamations of the other two are voiced in tight, angry, whispers. Even when it seems like their plans are coming down, stealth and secrecy are absolutely crucial.

"Cheshire, are you insane? Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Relax, Red," the woman replies, twirling her dagger. "She has no idea what we're doing. All she knows is that I'm part of the Outsiders. She left a message in our old apartment. It's how we used to stay in contact." Her eyes shifted up to look at the man from behind her mask. "She wants in."

This time, there are no distressed interjections. They're too surprised for that. The eyeslits of the man's domino mask narrow. "Why were you at your old apartment?"

"Looking for a message, of course. And give me some credit. I checked the place out before I went in. Just figured that with her boyfriend coming back with all his cute little ideals still in place, she'd be rather…shaken." The smirk is so wide that the spy is surprised the mask is still hiding it. "She is."

"What did you do?" The tall man is clearly somewhere between frantic and furious.

His wife's eyes are rolling. "Left a reply asking if she thought I was really that stupid and headed back to one of my personal hideouts that I was ready to torch anyways. Took the secret exit out and collapsed it behind me. Do you really think I would endanger all the Outsiders—you—our children like that?"

The man looks duly chagrined. "No. Sorry." Before he can say anything else, the teen coughs, reminding them of the tight deadline that they're on. The man turns back to their spy, suddenly all business.

"Right. Keep an eye on Wally. Find out if he's going down to the surface anytime soon and where. Try to get yourself assigned to escort him when it happens."

"Time check, Red!" Cheshire says, holding up an electric lightstick that suddenly turns on, signaling that the EMP was wearing off.

"You go. I'll meet you at the end of the block. You can be backup for me to make it look good."'

She lifts her mask to plant a quick kiss on his lips before sliding it back into place and glaring at the teen. "Don't hurt him."

The rather intimidated double agent nods and watches as she blends into the shadows and vanishes among them, taking her young son with her.

The streetlight flickers on above the teen's head as another burst of static comes from his comm.

"What's your status?" Barbara's voice echoes down from the Watchtower.

"Target located. It's a member of the Resistance. Pursuing now." He just barely manages to dodge an arrow aimed at his head and softly swears. That had been almost a little too close for comfort. "It's Red Arrow."

"Do you need backup?"

"Negative. It looks like it's just him. I should be able to—whoa!" A sai flies directly past his head. "Cheshire's here! Ignore what I just said, is there anyone available?"

"Beetle's on call. I'll try to get to him."

"Well, tell him to get his blue butt down here to help me out!" That part's more for the benefit of his contacts. They need to know who's coming.

There's a faint whistling sound and a red-fletched arrow lands at his feet. It instantly expands, covering him with a red high-density polyurethane foam that holds him in place. Nice touch.

"Tell Blue to bring that stuff that dissolves foam. I'm stuck. They're getting away!" He sounds angry, hopefully angry enough to make it convincing.

"Can you get yourself out of it?"

"If I could, I wouldn't have asked for the dissolvent."

"Right. ETA is two minutes. We're leaving the police out of it. No telling how many of them have family or are in the Resistance themselves."

He doesn't flinch. He's gotten much too good at lying and acting as a double agent to be so weak as to betray himself like that. "Good point. I'll be here. Got nowhere else to go."

I really don't.

Down the street, the three members of the Outsiders, one too young to even open his eyes as his mother carries him from rooftop to rooftop, vanish into the night.

Chapter Text

Watchtower-Prime

March 18th       

9:54 UTC

Wally's bored.

It takes a surprisingly short time, even (or perhaps especially) for a speedster, to get bored with a high-tech satellite in stationary orbit above Earth.

Having Barbara around doesn't really help much either. She's been on her wrist computer ever since she let him out of his room.

Hmmmm…

She's still on her wrist computer, so Wally surreptitiously slips over to the edge of the room. Taking a quick glance back, he can see that she's still deeply embroiled in her hacking of whatever-it-is, with that little crease she gets between her forehead when she's deeply focused that's somehow visible through the cowl.

Yeah, I don't think she'll notice…not yet, anyway…

"Hey, B! Bathrooms still in the same place?"

She makes a sort of "Hmm" noise that could mean either "Yes" or "You're interrupting my very important hacking and I will maim you if you do so again." Either way, it's a good excuse for Wally to sneak off.

Bart is still in his favorite place (the kitchen) looking a little sad as he stares intently at a blue mug. From the absence of a certain alien-parasite-powered superhero, Wally will guess that his cousin has nothing to do as well.

"Hey, cuz! Whatcha doin?"

Bart looks up, and there's surprise on his face. "Wally? What…"

"C'mon, before my baby-sitter notices I'm gone." The older speedster grabs his cousin and hauls him out of the kitchen. "My folks are alive, right?"

"Yeah, but…hey!" Even before the experiment that gave him his speed, Wally was never a slow mover. He's managed to drag the time traveler out to the main room where the Zeta tubes are before he can protest.

"And you know where they are right?" Wally moves over to the tubes and starts tapping at the keypad. He doesn't have the authorization code, but if he can guess Babs's…

Wooby. Of course. He smirks as he gets it right on the third try. Thank god for Bats making stuffed animals their passwords.

"Um, yeah…wait, what? How are you doing that?"

"Expert password-guesser." Wally wiggles his fingers. "C'mon, c'mon, where are they?"

"Recognized: Static; B-two-six."

A dark-skinned teen rubbing a round bruise on his cheek stalks out of the tubes, muttering under his breath. "Stupid archer. Stupid arrows. Who the heck makes a boxing glove arrow anyway?" The kid stops in front of them. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Oh, Bart here promised to take me to see my folks," Wally says, looking at him innocently and slinging one arm around the young speedster's shoulders. "But, sadly, he's forgotten the code. Do you remember what it is?"

"Hey, I didn't—"

The redhead elbows Bart before he can finish the sentence. Static just looks mildly worried. "You have permission, right?"

"Oh, sure," Wally says breezily. "Would we be here right now if we didn't? I mean, it's not like we could do this without Batwoman's code."

Static shrugs. "As far as I know, your folks are with the other family members in the old Hall of Justice. Code's the same as it used to be. 'Scuse me, but I gotta check in at the med-bay." He waves, and heads off down the hall.

"Nice kid," Wally says cheerfully. He taps in the Washington DC code and steps into the Zeta tubes, bringing a stunned Bart with him.

Static watches the two speedsters vanish, before strolling casually to his quarters. As soon as the door closes and locks behind him, he lies down on his bed and pulls the covers over his head before electromagnetically activating his comm.

"He's busted out of the Watchtower and headed for the Hall of Justice," he whispers, hoping that someone's on the other line.

"What?" It's Roy—Arsenal.

"That's what I said. Ed there?" He says the name casually, ignoring the way his heart speeds up.

"Yeah, yeah. One sec. You know, if you want to get fast results, you might try not calling at four in the morning."

It takes about a minute for Eduardo, also known as El Dorado and leader of the Runaways in Virgil's absence, to come on the comm. It's about a minute too long for the anxious spy.

"Hey, gran líder. What's up?"

Virgil pretends to himself that he doesn't get a shiver down his spine at Ed's voice or the way he just casually tucks Spanish words into his everyday speech. "Target's at the Hall of Justice. I need you to intercept and give him the rendezvous coordinates."

"Are you loco? There's no way I'll be able to pull that off."

The teen also decides to ignore the sudden ache he gets in his stomach at the irritation and doubt in Ed's voice. "Not if we time this right. There are always Zeta beams going in and out of the hall. Just pop in, give Wally the instructions, and pop out again. Do it quick enough and with an EMP emitter, and they'll just think it's background interference. He's probably there right now."

"You're crazy, you know that? You're asking me to break into the most highly secure facility on the planet, just to deliver an aviso? "

Virgil holds back a groan. His friend sounds mad. He didn't want that to happen. "Will you do it, please? I know you can."

There's a pause. "Okay. You're the jefe. But you're still demente."

This time Static does sigh. "I know. I'm sorry. But it's our best shot, and I need you to do it. Good luck."

"Same to you." With that, the comm cuts off.

Virgil turns over and tries to go to sleep, despite the hundreds of thousands of thoughts buzzing in his head. Two years of waiting, and now things are happening with remarkable—and terrifying—speed.

He just hopes they'll be able to keep up.

Because if they can't, they're dead.

Every last one of them.

Outsider's Base

March 18th

3:58 EDT

Ed turns off the comm and sighs, pulling his goggles down over his eyes. They're yellow and black, to match the rest of his costume. He and the others have protested multiple times that the costumes are stupid and pointless. There aren't any other people with powers like theirs, after all, especially those who would be fighting the Lords. They've been seen before. ID'ing them would be only too easy for the former Team.

At least they don't have to wear capes. And the costumes aren't too different from what they used to wear. He's stuck in black cargo pants and a dark gray shirt under an armored yellow vest with camo stealth tech built in to darken it if he needs to.

The goggles do help, though. They keep his eyes from itching every time he teleports, which is, admittedly, nice. And he gets to keep his scarf.

There aren't any footsteps behind him to indicate Tye and Asami sneaking up on him, which is why when Tye taps the Hispanic teen on the shoulder he jumps out of his skin and teleports ten feet up in the air only to fall.

"Ooooohh…" he groans from his spot on the floor. Sam sticks out a hand to help him to his feet.

"Okay?" she asks. She's no longer speaking Japanese all the time, but her English still needs work. Her Jicarilla, however, is flawless, according to Tye. Ed's gonna have to take him at his word for it. He still can't understand the strange Apache dialect.

"Yeah. You just espantar me, is all," he says, rubbing his head. "I oughta put a bell on you two."

Sam grins at him, but Tye just scowls.

Sam's dressed in her costume—black leggings with a green stripe down the sides and a dark green Kevlar vest over a black shirt. The black ninja hood attached to her shirt is pulled down, revealing different-colored eyes that are filled with amusement, but tinged with sadness. Her green headband is pulled further up onto her head, even though she doesn't need it with her black hair cut short. She gestures at his clothing and asks, "You leaving?"

He nods, checking his belt to make sure the device that hides his signature whenever he teleports is working. It is, and so is the EMP emitter he got as a gift from Virgil. The fact that it was a completely practical equipment issue doesn't detract from the fact that he's attached to it. It's one of the only things he has from his friend.

Sam puts a hand on his arm as she catches him fiddling with the device more than is strictly necessary. "Anata wa hountou ni daisuki Virgil desu ka?"

Ed just stares at her. "Sam, I have no idea what you just said."

She thinks for a minute, then points at Virgil's dot that shows he's deployed on the tracking system, and says, "You like him."

"Well, I—" Ed's honestly not sure what to say. "I—of course I like him, he's my friend!"

Sam shakes her head, then points from Tye to her and the screen to Ed. "I like Tye. You like him."

"Dude, seriously?" Tye asks, looking between them. He's dressed in an orange Kevlar jacket with the same stealth tech Ed has over a black shirt and black pants. His old headband has been traded out for a wide piece of fabric with eye slits that can be folded down to cover the upper half of his face. When folded up like it is now, though, it just looks like the headband. Ed sighs inwardly as he looks between the two of them. Orange and green…what a fashion disaster. He's told them so before, but they won't listen to him.

Ed scowls at both of them and turns away. "Doesn't matter. It's none of your business, anyway."

"Does he know?" Tye asks.

Ed spins to glare as fiercely as he can. "Tell him and you're dead."

"I'll take that as a no."

"You better. I'm off. Adios." He teleports away to avoid any further uncomfortable discussion.

Tye moves over to the computer and starts tapping before scowling at the screen. "Red Arrow and Cheshire got sidetracked by Blue."

Asami winces and places one hand on his arm. "Sorry," she says quietly.

"Not your fault," he says harshly. "Not even the Reach's fault this time. This is all Jaime."

"What's all Jaime?" There's a yawn as Milagro pads into the room, rubbing her eyes. Lian's drifting along behind her in a glowing green crib that's the product of the Hispanic girl's ring. As one of the youngest members of the Outsiders, and one of the best with kids, she's typically stuck with babysitting duties whenever Cheshire and Red Arrow are assigned to the same mission.

Tye can't fight down the small smile that comes up when he sees her. There are too many good memories associated with going over to his Jaime's house and hanging out with his little sister to be mad at her. "Hey, Mila. Just talking about your brother again."

The young Green Lantern looks caught somewhere between a sad expression and a scowl. "Of course. My idiot hermano who had to go and conquer the Earth 'for the greater good.'" She self-consciously rubs her ring. It had been the only good thing to come out of that whole mess. "What did he do this time?"

"Nearly got us caught," a clipped voice from the door announces. Red Arrow limps in, supported by Cheshire. He's got a significant welt on his head and several dozen splinters and a burn mark on his left arm. He looks angry. "And busted my bow as well." His wife sets him down and sends Asami for the medical kit before checking on Lian and settling Paul in with her.

"Thanks for looking after her," the Vietnamese woman tells Milagro. She takes the medical kit from the returning Asami and sets to work tending Will's arm. After the original Roy Harper and his clone had realized they were going to be spending a lot of time together, they had come to an agreement regarding names. Red Arrow would continue to use his moniker and take up William Roy Harper as a civilian identity (not that any of them really have those anymore) and Roy William Harper would continue to go by Arsenal and Roy, respectively.

"Ow! Stupid fucking son of a—"

"Watch it, Speedy. Insult Jaime as much as you want, but leave my mother out of it." The fifteen-year-old crosses her arms and glares at the clone.

"Sorry, Mila."

"Don't be," Tye says harshly. "Whatever you call him, he deserves it." The angry Apache turns back to the computer and starts typing furiously. Asami gently places a hand on his shoulder in a silent gesture of comfort. The confrontation two years ago had been especially painful for Tye, as well. Harsh words had been exchanged on both sides.

Milagro winces, remembering the day that Static was sent undercover. It was kind of hard to forget, since it was also the day she gained her ring…and lost her brother.

Not exactly a fair trade.

Two years ago

Ten miles outside El Paso

October 14th, 2016

18:42 CDT

It was a warm evening—not quite hot, but close enough. The heat was fading quickly in the oncoming desert night. Milagro had snuck out of the house (again), avoided patrols (again) and made her way out to the meeting point (again).

This time, however, she wasn't planning on going back. She had a duffle bag slung over her back with several changes of clothes and all the personal items she could trust to not be bugged. She had left a letter for her parents, not wanting to risk them stopping her. Not saying goodbye had hurt, but she had to move now. There had been talk of moving them to the Hall of Justice 'for their own safety.'

Yeah, right.

It had taken the thirteen-year-old some time to work her way out to the grove of trees on the very edge of her hometown, especially given how many soldiers were patrolling.

Ed was waiting there when she reached it, his scarf flapping in the dry, warm wind. "Hola. You ready?" he asked.

Milagro gripped the strap tighter and nodded, willing herself not to turn around. She couldn't help the prickles that sprung up in her eyes, so she turned her face away, not wanting to reveal her weakness.

There was a gentle hand on her arm. "Hey," Ed said. "It's okay. Sé que es difícil salir de casa."

Milagro shook her head. "It doesn't matter. 'S not home without Jaime, and he isn't himself anymore." A scowl crept across her face. "It's worse than when the Reach had him lavado el cerebro. Then he had an excuse. This is just him being an idiot."

Ed let out a short bark of harsh laughter. "The whole Team is being idotas. That's why we're doing this. Hang on." He held out his hand, and she grabbed on as they vanished.

Teleporting wasn't exactly the most comfortable method of transportation. It felt like her stomach was crawling its way out of her throat, and she got an almost unbearable itching behind her eyes. As soon as they reappeared on a deserted mesa, she reached up to scrub furiously at them.

"Picazón en los ojos, ¿no?" he asked her. When she nodded, he shrugged. "You get used to it. C'mon. We need to…" he trailed off, staring at the sky. "Oh, cagada."

Mila knew a bad word when she heard one, even if she wasn't supposed to. She spun around to stare up at the sky where her brother, fully armored up, was descending.

"Cagada," she agreed.

"What are you doing?" he yelled at her, the words strangely muffled by his helmet. He was so focused on her that he didn't seem to notice Ed hissing into his own comm.

"No, what are you doing?" Milagro demanded of her brother. "You're going demente and taking over the world. This is exactly what the Reach wanted you to do, and now you're just going to roll over and take it?"

The blue faceplate retracted to reveal Jaime's angry face. "You don't understand. We're trying to make the world a better place."

"Oh, sí, because that's working so well." Her voice was heavy with irony. "Quit kidding yourself." She started to get angry. "Why are you here?"

"To pick someone up. I'll just have to take you as well. You know you aren't supposed to be out, hermanita, so—"

"No!" she yelled at him. "You don't get to call me that. Not anymore. And I'm done. I'm not going back with you, Jaime. I won't stand by and let you do this."

He looked even angrier, and the faceplate slid back over his costume. "I wasn't asking."

Before he could attack her, a huge golden hand came out of nowhere and scooped him up before throwing the beetle up into the sky. Ed let out a whoop from next to her.

"Yes! Go, Tye!"

Tye's Longshadow projection stood there, over fifty feet tall. Asami, wearing her Samurai costume, was perched on his shoulder. She pointed at the sky and shouted something in Japanese.

"What?" all three of them asked.

She didn't have time to answer. Her eyes went wide from behind her cowl and she leapt free of Tye's shoulder as a sonic blast came out of nowhere and knocked him down. The astral projection disintegrated under the force of the blast, leaving Tye on the ground. The Apache teen groaned and climbed to his feet as Sam jumped down and helped him over to the foot of the mesa.

Tye glared up at his friend. "How could you do this?" He demanded. "What, was being the Reach's little blue puppet so much fun that you had to do it for the Team as well? Do even think for yourself anymore?"

Mila winced. She had a feeling that if she could see her brother's face right now, there would be a very ugly look on it.

"Yeah. I guess you would say that. But you know what? I'm still stronger than you. I've always been stronger than you. You're weak, Tye. You've always been weak, you always will be weak. You can't do anything right. It takes you years to get the guts to stand up to Maurice, and when you finally do, you get nabbed, and I have to rescue you. You're pathetic."

Milagro covered her mouth in shock as something inside her snapped. That wasn't Jaime—not anymore. He wouldn't say things like that—words designed to cut and wound.

Tye froze, looking stunned, before letting out a primal yell and summoning his avatar again. Blue readied his cannon, but this time, he didn't get the chance.

A wave of crackling electricity lashed out and wrapped around the knees of the projection, causing it to fall forward. More electric waves crackled and rushed over the body, targeting the small form inside. Tye let out a scream as they wrapped around him, shocking him into unconsciousness.

Asami screamed something in Japanese that was no doubt extremely rude at Static, who was riding on a smooth metal disc over the dry, sun-baked earth.

"What took you so long?" Blue shouted at him.

"Sorry, got sidetracked. What are you guys doing?" he demanded, turning to face them. "Don't you get it? We can finally use our powers in a way to make a difference. Why bother living up to the old legacy that never worked anyway when we can forge a whole new legacy, just for ourselves? We can be the most powerful people on Earth."

"Vaya al diablo!" Milagro yelled at him. She knew what he was doing, of course, but that didn't mean she couldn't make this convincing.

"Take Mila back. I'll get the others," Blue called down. He zoomed low at Asami, only to be knocked aside by her powerful chi blasts.

Virgil raced up the side of the mesa to her, but before he could get there, Ed grabbed her hand and teleported down to Sam and Tye.

"You better get going. That won't keep him down for long. I called in reinforcements, but it'll take a while."

Sam nodded at his words and picked up Tye, leaping away across the desert. Ed took Mila's arm again and they kept teleporting, getting further and further with each jump.

By the tenth jump, he was breathing hard. By the sixteenth, he was openly panting, and by the twenty-third, he looked to be on the verge of collapse.

He managed to make one more teleport before they landed hard on the desert ground and he collapsed, groaning.

"No!" Mila whispered. "No, no, no!" This had not been part of the plan.

She checked his pulse. It was steady—he would be fine—but he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

"No! Please!" she said, looking up at the darkening sky. "Somebody, anybody, HELP!"

If Static found them, he'd have to drag them back or risk blowing his cover. If her bro—if Blue Beetle found them, he'd just drag them back anyway. Either way, she'd be locked up for good.

"Maldito!" she swore, pounding her knee. "Dammit!"

She sat there for a moment, making a decision.

I don't care what happens. I don't care if they have to drag me back kicking and screaming. I will not stop fighting—I will never stop fighting. I will never give up, never give in, never forget. I will take my home back, and nothing and no one will stand in my way.

As she thought these words, she felt something irrevocable settling inside her. Her resolve firmed. I will always keep fighting. I will not be stopped.

Just as the last syllables of that vow were echoing thorugh her thoughts, she heard a whoosh overhead. She looked up at the darkening sky with a sense of anger, ready to take on whatever supoerhero had come to drag her back with her bare hands.

But there was nothing. Just a green streak coming towards her.

Milagro's eyes opened wider than ever before as the green light zoomed closer and closer to her, eventually stopping to hover directly in front of her face. Instinctively, she held out her hand and the green object dropped into her palm. The light died and she could see, quite clearly, a ring.

No. Flipping. Way.

"Milagro Reyes of Earth." An ethereal voice spoke the words, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. "You have been chosen, because of your strong will and fearless nature, to wield the power of the Green Lanterns."

Milagro stared at it for at least an entire minute, trying to wrap her head around the concept. Finally, it sank in—she would never be weak or powerless against the tyrants conquering her world again. Now, she could fight. Now, she could take her world back.

It was that realization that allowed her to croak out, through a throat made thick with shock, "I—I accept."

Chapter Text

Hall of Justice

March 18th

4:02 EDT

"Recognized: Kid Flash; B-zero-three. Impulse; B-two-four."

Wally feels the familiar tingle behind his eyes that always signals Zeta beam teleports and blinks rapidly a couple of times to clear it. Once the moment of disorientation has passed, he finds himself standing in a familiar room. It looks like the Hall of Justice was rebuilt exactly the way it used to be, causing a slew of memories to come crashing back.

"First time at the Hall…I'm a little overwhelmed."

"You're overwhelmed, Freeze was underwhelmed, why isn't anybody ever just whelmed?" A pause. "Oh. Maybe that's why."

"Robin, Speedy, Aqualad, Kid Flash…welcome."

The speedster smiles fondly at the memory, but the smile fades when he realizes where he's standing, as well as what happened the last time he was here.

"What. Happened."

"It was necessary."

"DICK, he blew up the CAVE! You guys almost died!"

He takes another step into the library, more bad memories surfacing.

"Why take that risk? Why go to such extremes?"

Guess I should have seen this coming then, he thinks bitterly. "Worth sacrificing". What else was worth sacrificing?

Wally feels his heart clench as he remembers exactly why he was so mad.

"I'm worried about Artemis. Terrified for her!"

He sinks down in a chair and covers his face. Bart is immediately next to him, worrying, demanding answers in frantic speedtalk. He's not really listening.

Artemis…

Wally was going to propose. He had the ring picked out and everything. He had even asked Paula and Oliver for permission, since they were basically her parents.

He had promised himself that as soon as the Invasion was over, the instant the world was out of danger and she could hang up her cowl for good, he would get down on one knee and ask.

The ring's probably still in his costume, actually…

Now, though…

Why is she still Tigress?

He doesn't realize that he's said this aloud. He's staring at the wall, trying to make his mind, which can work through complex equations and solve chemistry problems at the speed of light, wrap around this one question.

"She said that Artemis…was your partner," Bart says softly.

That simple statement hits him like a train wreck.

Artemis…was my partner…

Oh, god.

It's my fault.

It's all my fault.

I was too slow. Too stupid. Too reckless. If I hadn't…if I hadn't been sucked in…if I had just been a little faster…I could have stayed. Stopped any of this from happening.

This is all my fault.

"It's all my fault," he says aloud, softly and full of despair.

"Wally—Wally, no," Bart pleads, trying desperately to talk sense into his cousin. "You'vegotitallwrongyoudidn'tdoanythingwrongit'snotyourfaultthere'snothingtobe sorryforyousavedtheworld—" unconsciously slipping into speedtalk, he doesn't notice the soft footfalls behind him, or the clink-crash-clink of a breaking mug.

"Wally?" a voice whispers. "Is—is it really…?"

Wally jerks his head up, and it takes him a moment to for his mind to wrap around the concept of the person standing there.

"Mom?"

Mary West is dressed in her old pink bathrobe, hands to her mouth. A shattered mug and puddle of tea lie at her feet.

"Wally…"

The red-head is up out of his seat in moments and wrapping his mother in an enormous bear hug before she's realized what's happened.

There's an enormous, shuddering gasp before he's caught up in an embrace that's just as tight, small arms squeezing into his back hard enough to pop. Mary is crying and choking out unintelligible words that make Wally want to cry and hug her even tighter.

"I'm sorry, Mom," he whispers, resting his chin on her head. When did she get so small? "I'm so, so, sorry."

She shakes her head, holding him even tighter. "It's you," she manages to whisper clearly. "It's really you."

"Yeah," he mutters, caught a bit off-guard by the hugging. As far as he's concerned, it's been about three months since the last time he's seen her. Finals were hell, and he didn't get a chance to go home before…the North Pole. So, for her, it's been three years, and she thought he was dead…

He hugs her even tighter, whispering "I'm sorry" again.

Neither of the Wests notice Bart shifting awkwardly in the corner.

Eventually, Mary pulls away from her son and studies him at arm's length. "You haven't aged a day," she whispers, letting her eyes roam over his face. "What…?"

He lets out a weak chuckle. "Let me just say that time travel sucks ass."

"Language," she scolded him, before wrapping him in another hug. "I can't believe you're here."

"Me neither."

After she's satisfied herself that he's not going to vanish, she finally pulls away. A smile is tugging at her lips. "Your father's not going to believe this."

"How is he? How are you? Have things been…okay for you?" As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he wants to snatch them back. Of course they haven't been okay. They thought their only son was dead.

Mary purses her lips. "It was…rough, at first. Artemis was wonderful. She came to see us every week. She still stops by when she can, but after a while…it was just too hard for her. They never stopped looking for you."

"Well, why are you…here?" he gestures around the Hall's library, then stares at her with wide eyes. "Please don't tell me that the house burned down."

Mary gave a small laugh, but it was more relief than humor. "For our own protection, more than anything else. Come on. Rudy's still in bed, but I'll try and rouse him."

"For your own protection? Did someone try to…oh." Aunt Iris. Swallowing, and deciding that it's a line of conversation he'd rather not pursue, Wally follows after his mother as she heads down the hallway.

They reach a set of metal doors, and Mary taps a code into them. A red light lances out from a camera mounted above the doors and scans her.

"Mary West; F-zero-three. Authorized."

The light moves to Wally and runs over him as well. He can feel the tingle in his bones, just a bit less than the Zeta-beams, but still there.

"Kid Flash; B-zero-three. Unauthorized. Access denied."

"Oh, Wally, I'm sorry," Mary says. "I completely forgot—they don't let anyone in who hasn't been authorized. Only the senior members can grant access."

Wally shrugs, pretending he isn't disappointed. "It's fine. I'll just wait out here for you and Dad."

Mary nods, a trembling smile playing on her lips. She shakes her head. "I still can't believe it. He never will." But she walks between the metal doors that slide open just enough to let her in and vanishes into the depths of the Hall.

Wally stands there. And waits. And gets bored really quickly.

He reaches up to scratch his neck. Since he doesn't really like the idea of looking at the inhibitor collar every time he walked past a reflective surface, and it'll take him about ten minutes unsupervised in a lab to get the stupid piece of junk off, he took the turtleneck he found in the pile of clothes Babs dumped in his room. It covers up he collar quite nicely. He doesn't really want his parents to see it.

A flash of yellow at the corner of the hallway catches the speedster's attention, and he turns to look.

Frowning, he turns back towards the door, keeping watch on the spot out of the corner of his eye.

There it is! A bit of yellow, appearing and vanishing in the blink of an eye.

As stealthily as possible, he slips along the wall, under the security camera line of sight, and peers around the corner.

Okay, this is really starting to get on my nerves.

There's another yellow flash at the end of the hallway to his left, and he spins around.

"Ah! Ha?"

Once again, nothing's there.

Seriously?

He scowls and trots down the hallway to try and see what's going on. It proves to be a very short hallway, containing a broom closet and not much else. Turning on his heel to survey the narrow area, he spots yet another flash of yellow from inside the closet.

Gotcha this time!

He tiptoes over to the closet and grips the handle, before throwing it open dramatically.

"Ah-ha! Ha?"

What?

He steps inside the closet. Is there a secret passage in here or something? This is the Hall of Justice, and if one of the Bats has supervised its construction, he won't be surprised to find it riddled with trapdoors, secret passages, and overly large air ducts perfectly suited to crawling around in.

A quick inspection reveals absolutely nothing someone hiding in here might use to escape. He turns to face the door again, when a yellow flare casts a dim light over the closet, and there's a hand over his mouth and an arm keeping his wrapped to his side. He flinches and starts to struggle, but the hands just squeeze tighter.

"Shut up and stop moving," a voice hisses in his ear. The accent sounds vaguely Spanish, but it's totally unfamiliar. "Listen very, very carefully. You need to remember everything I tell you if you want answers about what's happened to the world. And a way to fix it."

Wally holds very still.

"Good. Make sure you get to your aunt's grave as soon as possible. It's in the Central City mausoleum. Go in alone or find an excuse to be left alone. From the entrance, take the first right, third left, second right, and then press the light switch into the wall. The passcode's Faraday's first law. You get all that?"

Wally nods, his brain spinning to keep up with the information.

"Good. Remember, this conversation never happened."

There's a second flash of yellow light and the hands over his mouth and holding his arms in place are gone.

Well…that was…weird...what just happened here?

"Wally?" He can hear his mother calling out. "Wally! Where are you?"

"Mary." That's his father's voice. "I'm sorry. I miss him too. But—"

"Rudy, you don't understand. He was here. It wasn't a trick or an illusion or—or a hallucination! He was here! It was him!" She sounds desperate, as though she's trying to convince herself and starting to doubt what she knows to be true.

Oh, man, mom…

Wally ducks out of the closet and runs down the hall, back the way he came. With every too-slow step he curses the stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid collar that's holding him back from his parents.

"Mary, he's not here."

Wally comes up right behind them, staying as silent as possible until he's less than a foot away.

"Geez, Dad. Have a little faith in me."

Rudy freezes in place, then turns around to stare at Wally, who gives a sheepish wave.

He is not prepared for the fist that comes hurtling at his face.

Once again, he curses the stupid collar around his neck as only reflexes that Black Canary insisted he hone save him from the punch.

"What the hell, Dad?" he demands from where he has dropped to the floor.

"You sick bastard! How can you do this to me? To us?"

"Rudy, stop!" Mary is intervening. "It's really Wally. Our Wally. He's back. He's here!"

The older West stops swinging, staring at Wally in shock.

"What…but…how?"

"Time travel's a bitch," Wally says, slowly getting to his feet.

"Watch your language," both of his parents chorus. Rudy swallows, and reaches out to touch Wally's face. Wally doesn't flinch away, and after a moment, Rudy pulls him into a tight, bone-cracking hug.

"I can't believe it. You're here. You're really here."

"Yeah, Dad." Wally's not sure what's worse—the crushing hug or the crushing guilt. He holds his dad even tighter, hoping to chase the awful feelings away. "I am."

"Did you pass the message?"

"Si, señora. Just like you asked. He knows where to go."

"So it's finally happening. Is everything ready there?"

"Just about. Neut's fussing about the power levels, Will and Roy still hate the plan, Tye and Sam are still trying to figure out how to trap Impulse—well, Tye's trying to convince Sam to let him kidnap Jaime as bait and Sam's saying no—"

"Tell them that Impulse won't pose a problem. As soon as Wally shares what we tell him, Bart will be on our side. They just need to keep an eye on him for pickup."

"Tengo. I'll let them know. And Mila said to tell you she's still getting alerts from Oa and they want her back there."

"She's not going, is she? Milagro of all people ought to know that we're in the critical stage here."

"She told them to go to hell. Politely, of course."

"Of course."

"Is he holding up his end of the bargain?"

A pause. "He wants the world back to the way it used to be as much as we do."

"Yeah. So he can keep being a—"

"As hard as it is to admit, we need his help. And he needs us just as much as we need him."

"You can't trust him."

"I trust him about as far as I could throw him. But if there's one thing you can count on that man for, it's that he'll always do what's in his own best interest."

"It's his fault we're in this mess in the first place!"

"I know. Don't you dare think I've forgotten that. But again, as much as I hate to admit it, we need him. And he knows it."

"I still don't like it."

"You don't have to like it. You just have to deal with it. We all do."

A sigh. "Fine. This is El Dorado, signing off."

Chapter Text

Hall of Justice

March 18th

4:27 EDT

Jay Garrick lets out a soft groan as he eases his old muscles out of bed. The powers of speed he gained years ago may slow down his aging (even if nobody was quite sure how that worked), but he's still ninety-nine, and being old hurts.

He releases a sigh as he checks the clock. Early—too early. But the first speedster knows from experience that sleep will be a long time in coming.

Joan's still fast asleep, the wrinkles lining her face softened in slumber, so he plants a gentle kiss on her forehead and leaves the room. No need to ruin her rest.

He pulls on his old plaid robe and walks out of the room. Perhaps he'll go to the library. There are still a few books he hasn't had the chance to read yet. Super-speed isn't any help for reading unless you have a photographic memory. Otherwise, it's all too easy to forget the information.

Putting a hand over his mouth to muffle a yawn, he walks straight out of the steel doors blocking off their living quarters into a hugging trio. His sleep-fogged mind doesn't see anything unusual at first.

"Morning, Mary. Rudy. Wally."

It takes him another five steps before his brain catches up with his mouth, and only one more before his feet come to an immediate stop.

Jay turns around so slowly that it almost hurts, but he's afraid that if he goes too fast he might miss something. That's always been his one complaint about superspeed—things just happen too darn fast.

He counts heads carefully and comes up with same answer each time. Two red, one brown. Red, red, brown. Short, tall, tall. Mary, Wally, Rudy.

"Wally?"

It comes out a whisper, but it's enough to get their attention. The second redhead pulls out of the crushing hug and turns to face Jay, a heartbreakingly familiar sheepish smile on his face.

"Hey, Jay."

It takes Jay a minute to realize that Wally's really there, he's really standing there, smile and freckles and all. The laugh is pulled from him so easily after three years of his throat being tight enough to choke, and he steps forward to clasp the boy who's been like a grandson to him in a hug.

"My god, kid," he says after a minute, voice hoarse. "Don't you ever do that again." He gives him a firm clap on the back and pulls him to arms length. "You look good. Better than me, that's for sure."

"Not that hard to do," Wally said with an impish smile.

Jay lets out another laugh, still not quite believing how easy it is. "What happened to you, kid?"

Wally's grin turns sour. "Let me just say that time travel—"

"Language." Mary and Rudy speak at the same time.

"Whaaaat? I wasn't gonna say anything too bad." None of them miss the quiet mutter of "This time."

Jay chuckles. "Whatever it is, it's good to have you back."

Wally's smile is bitter. "I wish I could say it's good to be back."

Jay knows better than to continue that line of conversation. Because of his age and retirement status, he's been given some amount of leniency, but he knows when not to push. Whatever they've done to the League, it won't help the world at all if he joins them.

"Joan's gonna be thrilled to see you when she wakes up," Jay says, trying to distract the boy before he can say anything they'll all regret.

Wally's eyes light up at that. "J-Joan? She's here? She's alive?"

"Alive and well, kid." Jay's grin falls when he realizes that Wally must have heard about Iris. Jay still has a hard time grasping that the woman who had been like a daughter to him, someone so vibrant and real and alive, is dead.

He shakes off that thought as soon as he can. They all miss Iris, and they still grieve for her. But today, Wally is back from the dead. They can go back to grief later.

"Who else is here?" Wally asks. There's a look of hope in his eyes neither Jay nor the boy's parents can bear to squash.

"Ah, well, Joan and I…Artemis's mother, Paula…That fellow Virgil's parents and sister…Alfred…"

"Alfred?" Wally's look of astonishment is almost comical. "Like, Dick's old butler Alfred?'

"Yes, that Alfred." Mary and Rudy both look amused at Wally's reaction.

"But…Alfred? Here? Doesn't it defy, like, some irrevocable law of nature for him to leave Gotham?"

Jay chuckles at that. "I don't know about that, but…"

"You see him later, probably," Mary says. She takes her son's arm and starts to lead him down the hallway. "In the meantime, let's just…" she trails off as a look of slight fear crosses her face. Jay follows her line of sight and resists the urge to back away.

Nightwing is standing at the end of the hallway, glaring at them all.

"Wally," he says, a hint of a growl in his voice. "Why didn't you tell us you were leaving the Watchtower?"

Wally blinks at his old friend, and says, clearly without thinking, "Because you would have tried to stop me."

The next words to come out of the hero's mouth pretty much are a growl. "That's the point, Wally. You've been out of it for three years. Things—"

"Don't even finish that sentence." Wally jerks out of his parents' grips and stalks over to stand toe-to-toe with Nightwing. "I may have wound up losing some time, but I'm not an idiot. I know what I'm doing. I can protect myself."

"Can you?"

That accusation stops Wally dead in his tracks. He scowls both at the accusation and insinuation. "I made a choice, Dick. I knew the risks. We all did."

"You shouldn't have had to take that risk!"

A harsh not-laugh escapes Wally's mouth. "Y'know, you're welcome to refresh my memory, since things have changed so much, but as far as I remember, a few months ago we were here, and you were the one telling me risks were worth taking. What was it you said? Oh yeah… "worth sacrificing if it helps us to complete the mission?"" Wally narrows his eyebrows. "Sound familiar?"

"That was different and you know it. That wasn't—"

"What? Wasn't what?"

"It wasn't you!" Dick yells. At this time, the hallway has become empty. Wally doesn't even notice, too caught up in the argument.

"Wait—you're saying this is my fault?" Wally takes a step forward, dimly aware of the fact that he's still taller than Dick. "You think I wanted this? To pull a Rip Van Winkle and wake up to find that my best friend took over the world?"

"What was I supposed to do?" They're both yelling now, angry pain-filled voices at their peak. "You left us, Wally!"

"Heroes die. It's in the job description! You know that better than anyone!"

"You shouldn't have to! No one should have to! Now, no one does. Can't you see that?"

"Oh, so now only the bad people die? Because you kill them?"

Dick's hard gaze is more than enough of an answer.

"What gives you that right? To decide who lives and who dies?"

"What gave them that right? At least we're protecting people!"

"Maybe you've forgotten, but superheroes protect everyone. Villains not excluded."

"They don't deserve protecting! Just like you didn't deserve to try and die!"

"That's not your call!" Wally is directly in Dick's face now, yelling his lungs out. "I made my choice!"

"And they made theirs!"

"So you kill them for it?"

Dick's—no, Nightwing's face—has gone cold. "If that's what it takes."

Wally just stares at him for a long minute, disgust clearly written across his features. Eventually, he steps forward and shoves Dick in the chest to get him out of the way.

"I can't talk to you right now." He strides off down the corridor, heading for the direction he's pretty sure the back door is in.

"Wally! Stop!"

The redhead doesn't bother to listen. Dick ceased to have any sort of authority over him as soon as he quit the Team, and now, as far as Wally's concerned, he doesn't even have the 'best friend' cushion to fall back on.

"Where are you going?"
"Out."

"Why?"

Wally turns left to see a conveniently placed door and starts tapping away at the keypad. "Well, I've still got this piece of junk on me." He flicks the spot under his turtleneck where the collar is and hears a satisfying ping. "But I can still walk, and apparently, things have changed. I'm just going out to see for myself." He gets the code right on his third try and the door hisses open.

"Wally."

He doesn't stop.

"Wally!"

It slides shut behind him, cutting him and the rest of the world off from Nightwing.

Nightwing is about to go storming out the door after Wally, to grab him and drag him back and hold onto him long enough to make him see that this is better, it really is. If he can just hang onto him and explain—

A hand on his shoulder makes him freeze in place—partly instinct, and partly suppressing an instinct to turn and flip whoever was stupid enough to grab him onto the floor.

"Give him space, son," Jay Garrick says from behind. "It's a lot to take in."

Nightwing grits his teeth and turns around, stalking back to the Zeta tubes.

We did all this for him. Why can't he see that? Why can't any of them see that?

Eight hours ago

Gotham City

March 17th

15:02 EDT

Nightwing and Miss Martian descended from the Bio-ship, which was set to hover invisibly over the slate-gray bay, and flew (or in Nightwing's case, levitated) over to the dull green building sitting on its own little island away from the main one. While taking a Zeta, or even landing the Bio-ship on it would have been more convenient, it was simply far, far too much of a risk to take. As it had always been, this facility was home to some of the most dangerous prisoners in the entire world.

Now, though, the goal was no longer rehabilitation, but containment. Their grip on the world was still tenuous enough that the revelation of those who lived on this island could shift the balance so drastically that the power they had taken could be yanked from them just as easily. Once the Project was finished, however, that would no longer be an issue.

A bolt of lightning flashed, throwing the wrought-iron gate and the name at the top into sharp relief, like iron spider legs scratching at the stormy skies.

Arkham Asylum.

Nightwing had first come here years ago. Oddly, it had also been raining that time. But then, it was usually raining in Gotham.

The criminals housed here had been very different, back then.

The two Lords landed just outside the main doors, which preformed a full-body scan before they were allowed to enter. Nightwing ensured that his utility belt was completely DNA-locked before he opened the door and allowed them to go inside.

Miss Martian had spent a great deal of time here, so he permitted her to lead the way. This was, after all, her brainchild. Literally.

No less than three guards stood outside the doorway to the main common room. Nightwing nodded at them all. He and the other Lords knew every detail of the lives of these men and women. They were the most trusted and elite of the Vanguard, the force tasked with keeping the peace. If they had not been, they would not have received this assignment. No chance of any Resistance members getting in here—Miss Martian secretly swept every guard at least twice a day. Often three times a shift. Any subversion was immediately detected, and the one harboring it had any memories of the building and prisoners in it wiped. They couldn't afford for this information to get out.

"Who was it?" Nightwing asked as the two world leaders moved past the doors and into the silent main room.

:Barry Allen. And before you ask, he has been contained.:

"Good." Nightwing stopped for a moment to study the scene.

Clark Kent and Diana Prince sat in wheelchairs by the window, staring blankly at the outside. Like every other patient in the room, they wore inhibitor collars. Bruce Wayne sat in another wheelchair, back to the room. He was staring at the wall.

Nightwing had winced the first time he saw his former mentor here. For someone who had spent what might as well be a lifetime locking criminals up in this very facility, being imprisoned here himself must have felt like unimaginable betrayal.

Now, the former Boy Wonder just let his gaze move on.

Hal Jordan, John Stewart, Jefferson Pierce, and Guy Gardner were all sitting on a couch and watching static. Ray Palmer, Oliver Queen, and the former King Orrin leaned on the back of the couch, also blankly watching the transmitted crackle.

Dinah Lance and Agustus Freeman sat on the floor with Billy Batson, pushing a ball back and forth with him as he chattered. While most of the former Leaguers were in states of catatonia, Billy had simply been psychically returned to a childlike mind-set. They had once hoped to reeducate him—he would make a powerful Lord—but those plans had ultimately failed. Still, seeing someone cheerful in this place was a good thing.

Katar Hol and Shayera Thal were on another couch with several blankets. A smirk crept along Nightwing's mouth as he realized just how much it resembled a nest.

These were the only inmates deemed safe enough to allow the freedom of the main room.

"Everything looks fine here," Nightwing commented. "Allen's in the high-security area, right?"

:Yes. I believe you know the way.: She stood to the side and let him pass.

The two of them strolled down the hallway and a few flights of stairs to Intensive Care, where the prisoners too dangerous or with powers too difficult to contain easily were kept. After entering the complex code and undergoing yet another DNA scan, they entered.

This area was unlike the tidy white and blue recreation room nearby. The floors, ceilings, and dividing walls were all dark gray stucco, broken only by cells fronted with the same clear material used on the windows of the Watchtower. When they first cleaned out this facility, remodeling was the first task.

They passed Plastic Man, locked in a cell that had once been Clayface's, with mild amounts of tranquilizing gas being constantly circulated throughout the room. Miss Martian's telepathy was ineffective on his inorganic mind, so until they could finish the final stages of the plan, this was their only option.

J'onn J'onzz was in his own cell, one ringed with a small fire that never extinguished, rendering him vulnerable enough for M'gann to maintain a psychic inhibitor at all times. Unfortunately, it was all she could do to maintain a low-level coercion. She was somewhat overextended, and his own shields were very good.

Nathaniel Adams held the third cell, one specially designed to neutralize his radiation. M'gann maintained the same low-level psychic field on him—just enough to keep him placid and docile.

They reached the final cell where Barry Allen was being held. This one was designed to be as adaptable as possible, for temporary restraint of any of the prisoners. As such, it wound up being probably one of the most versatile and incredibly strong rooms in the facility, more than enough to keep a speedster contained.

The blank look that should be in his eyes was gone, replaced by a spark of deadly clarity and fury.

"Something's happened. I know it has. I can feel it. What happened?"

:That's none of your concern: Miss Martian was the one who spoke. Nightwing, who spent a good portion of his teenage years at Barry's house, in his company and that of his nephew, didn't quite have the heart to speak around the spark of guilt in his gut.

"Something has happened," he repeated, staring them down. "There's another speedster."

Miss Martian continued to stare at him, eyes glowing green as she attempted to crack his psyche and put him under once again.

:Nightwing, he's blocking me, and the others are restless enough as it is. I need a distraction if I'm going to get into his mind without losing my hold on the facility.:

Nightwing gave her a barely perceptible nod to show that he understood, and stepped forward to take over the conversation. "That's ridiculous."

"No it's not." Barry pushed against the restraints, leaning forward. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Nightwing said flatly. "Who would it be? Wally's dead. You said it yourself." Anger started to bubble up in him. "You were the ones who declared him dead. You replaced him, and now you think he's just going to miraculously come back? Forgive you?"

Allen was flinching under the verbal onslaught, but the light in his eyes hadn't gone out yet. Nightwing continued his attack.

"This is all your fault. You could have done this. You could have gone out there and fought, done something to have stopped the villains permanently. But you didn't, and Wally died. Not even that made you do anything. Your own wife died because you couldn't fight back, and you still think criminals are worth saving? That they can be saved?"

Nightwing's enraged speech died just as a blank look came over Barry's irises. He stared straight ahead.

:Got it. He's subdued.:

Nightwing's lips thinned as he stared at the man dressed in a hospital gown.

"Call the guards. Have them take care of them. I'm going to go check on the project." He turned on his heel and stalked away to the basement, letting his own words ring in his ears.

Wally was back. It was the League's fault they thought he was gone. Now the League was broken, and they were in charge. Things would be better, they really would. Wally would see that they were right. He would join them—they were his friends, he would have to. They would finish the project and finally make not just a better world, but a perfect one.

Wouldn't they?

Chapter Text

Washington DC

March 18th

4:42 EDT

Wally takes a deep breath as he stands outside, in the real world. It's somewhere around four forty five in the morning, as far as he knows, which explains why the sky is dark and the air is cool, just short of chilly.

And it may have something to do with the fact that he supposedly hasn't been outside in three years, but a walk—an actual walk—sounds pretty good right now.

The speedster sets off down the empty street at a sedate pace that feels both completely unnatural and totally right.

For a while, he just wanders around DC, following the Potomac. He doesn't really have a set course in mind.

After a while, small landmarks that he hasn't seen in a long time point themselves out to him—buildings, apartments, statues, memorials…

Wally comes to a dead halt in East Potomac Park. His feet have, unconsciously, been tracing that same route he followed with Robin and Aqualad all those years ago. Cadmus is just around the corner.

On a bit of a perverse whim, he decides to go see it. As far as he knows, it's still closed down, just an empty husk of a building, but it might feel good. To see something, to know that even if the world is screwed up, he still can matter. He has mattered. And hopefully, he's going to matter again.

So he strolls under the bridge, trying to act as casual as a guy walking around DC at five in the morning can.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me."

Where Cadmus used to stand, there's a new patch of green, bordered with flowers. Tiger lilies and marigolds—his and Artemis's favorites.

At the center of the little park, a yellow and gold statue of himself as Kid Flash stands, faintly glowing in the light from a small flame at the base.

He wants to zip over to the thing, but once again, he's faced with the frustration of the inhibitor collar, so he settles for stalking over and kicking it.

"WHY?"

There's a gasp, and he spins around to see an Aisan-American woman with shoulder-length hair in her mid-twenties standing there in a lilac peacoat over a pale green skirt. She's holding a briefcase in one hand, and her coffee cup is slipping out of the other. On instinct, he lunges forward, intending to catch it with his superspeed.

Of course, this intention ignores the reality of an inhibitor collar around his neck, which causes him to trip, land just short of the mark, and have lukewarm (blessedly not boiling) coffee splashed all over his face.

"Oh, gosh, I am so sorry, I don't know what I was thinking, I really don't…" The woman's talking and her voice sounds vaguely Korean (Artemis had often read out a rant on the inability of Americans to differentiate between Asian races) and she's actually really pretty and dammit Wally you have a girlfriend you shouldn't be noticing this…

"It's fine, it's fine," he says, standing up and wiping his face off. The turtleneck's pretty much ruined, and the wet (and now cold) coffee isn't really feeling that good.

"No it's not, and I'm so sorry, and…and…" the woman squints at him. "Why don't you have a coat on?"

Wally shrugs and shifts his shirt so the neck hopefully covers up the collar, which would raise awkward questions he doesn't really want to deal with. "I got pissed at a friend and stormed out before I could remember to grab one."

"Well, you don't want to get caught out during curfew…" she muses. "Oh, gosh, I run into a total stranger at four-thirty and dump coffee all over him and I don't even know his name…or why he was kicking a statue." At the last one, she raises an eyebrow at him, so he just gives an eloquent shrug. "I'm Linda Park."

She sticks out an elegant manicured hand and Wally shakes it. "Wally West."

A little gasp escapes as she studies his face, and for a second he starts to worry that the other members of the Team blabbed his ID after he 'died', but her next words reassure him it's something very different.

"West?" She frowns. "Any relation to Iris West-Allen?"

Wally lets a sad smile play out. "She was my aunt. Clearly where I get my good looks, right?" His finely tuned 'reporter radar' is picking up definite signs off this girl, which would also explain why she was out this early.

"She was my mentor in college," Linda explains. "I was so sorry to hear about her passing. Iris was a wonderful woman." Her smile turns impish. "She mentioned you. Often."

"All good things, I'm sure." Wally flashes her his most handsome smile.

Linda, looking more sardonic than Wally would prefer, shakes her head. "Not quite."

Wally groans and covers his eyes. "She told you about the incident."

"The way she told it, there was more than one."

"Of course she did." He shakes his head, and coffee drops spray out, landing on her coat. "Ah, crap, I'm sorry."

Linda brushes at the coat and gives him a speculative look, before letting out a small smile. "Hey, you can't stay out here past curfew. My press pass lets me have one other person with me. Come on down to the station. We'll get you a clean shirt, and

you can hang out with us till my shift's over. Then you can buy me a coffee to replace that one and we can chat."

Wally blinks. He has to admit, that sounds pretty appealing. He'd always liked hanging out at the GBS news station. "Sure. Just a quick warning—I have a very possessive girlfriend."

Linda laughs. "No fear of that. I've seen your baby pictures. Asking you out would be too weird." She laughs even harder when Wally blushes crimson before hooking her free arm around his elbow and tugging him along. "So what brings you to DC?"

Wally shrugs. Years of experience balancing a secret ID have made him very good at pulling believable half-truths off the tip of his tongue. "Visiting family. Their place is a bit crowded right now, so I'm rooming with a friend."

The reporter raised an eyebrow. "The same 'friend' you stormed out on?"

The former reporter's nephew also has enough experience to tell when he's being pumped for information, no matter how subtle it is, and the raised eyebrow he shoots Linda tells her so. She smirks, showing no sign of shame. "So?"

Wally figures that having someone to confide in, even if it's an edited version of the truth, couldn't hurt. "I've been out of contact with him for a while." With most of the world, honestly. "While I was gone…he made some bad choices. Did some stuff he once would've regretted. It's like…he's lost. I've been trying to talk him back around, but we keep winding up in the middle of a shouting match. It's like he doesn't want to hear me."

Linda listens and nods, a slight frown on her face as she thinks. "Do you know why he did what he did?"

Wally shakes his head. "He thinks he's right, even though everything he's done just seems so…wrong. And he's trying to talk me around, and the worst part?" he laughs and shakes his head. "I don't know anymore whether he's right or not. I just…I just wish I could talk to my Aunt about this, y'know? She had this way of throwing everything in perspective—" he cuts off, immediately aware that he's not talking to his aunt, he's talking to a pretty girl and comparing her to his aunt. "Oh, man, I'm sorry, that was rude, I was running on autopilot there—"

Linda gives a small laugh and squeezes his arm. "It's okay. I miss her too. And you're absolutely right about the perspective. I remember, second year of my internship, I walk into work and talk to her about quitting. I was dating this cop at the time—a real jerk, now that I think about it—and he had told me about a case they were dealing with where no details were being released, because the boys in blue had screwed up and didn't want to admit it. The guy also told me that my being a journalism student made him 'uncomfortable' because he felt like he couldn't talk to me about stuff."

"But he was," Wally pointed out.

"Shut up, I'm talking. Anyway, Iris sits there and listens to me rattle off this big long speech I had put together to explain why I was leaving, and then she asks me what the real reason was. I told her that was the real reason, so she just nods and offers to buy me one last coffee, and we go to this little place off of Fourth and Main and chat and then she asks me about my relationship. By the time I finish, I've told her things I'd forgotten I knew and we've had three cups each."

Wally snorts. "Uncle B always said that if she hadn't become a reporter, she should have gone into the CIA as an interrogator."

Linda snickers. "I won't argue with that. So after I've spilled every detail about my admittedly crummy relationship, she just sits there and 'thinks' at me for a while. You know what I mean?"

Wally nods.

"And then she asks me, 'What's more important to you—a relationship with a guy who would ask you to give up something you love, or pursuing a career you're enthusiastic about—making sure the public has the right to know?'"

Wally lets out a low whistle. "Sure sounds like Aunt Iris."

"Completely redefined my life at that point. I took a day off and dumped the jerk, wrote an article on the incident he told me about, walked back into the station, and dumped it on Iris's desk along with a cup of coffee. She just smiled and said, 'Welcome back.' Oh, we're here."

They've come to a stop outside the low, red building that's the DC headquarters for GBS. Linda leads him around to the 'employees only' door and lets them in, pointing him down a hallway.

"The tech guys always have extra shirts. Talk to them. Actually—" She drops her briefcase in his arms and he catches it on reflex as she fishes around in it and pulls out a pen and piece of paper. She sets it on top of the leather case, using it as a makeshift desk as she scribbles a quick note. Wally tries to track what she's writing, but it's all in shorthand.

Who writes shorthand anymore? Who reads shorthand anymore?

Linda hands him the paper, drops the pen in her pocket, and reclaims her case with practiced efficiency. "I have to go on air in fifteen minutes, but just head down that hallway—" she pointed. "Talk to the tech guys—they usually have extra shirts. Just show 'em this. And don't leave. You owe me a coffee."

Wally gives her a two-fingered salute and feels his collar shift. He can tell that the collar has been exposed by the way her eyebrows lift.

"And what is that? Some new kind of bling?" Her tone is teasing, but her eyes are deadly serious.

He rubs it uncomfortably, but desperately tries to look casual. "Oh, um, I got drunk and kinda got my other friend's electric dog collar stuck on my neck. He's out of town at the moment so I'm stuck until he gets back and remembers where he put the key."

Linda laughs, the suspicious look fading. "Now I'm starting to believe all those stories your aunt told me."

Wally lets his cheesy grin go full force and mentally offers his aunt a belated apology for complaining whenever she would tell embarrassing stories at the dinner table or whenever he visited her at work. Apparently, they were very useful for maintaining a secret identity.

Linda strides off purposefully down the hallway, no doubt towards the makeup room. Wally lets his grin fade and thunks his head against the wall. Repeatedly.

Idiot! Stupid, stupid, idiot, you're wearing a piece of League tech around your neck and you decide to walk into a building full of the most inquisitive people on the face of the planet. Why and how is this my life again?

I think it had something to do with blowing yourself up in a chemical experiment when you were eleven…

Shut up.

Wally sighs and stands up, casually walking (walking!) down the hallway Linda had indicated.

I am so sick of this stupid, stupid, stupid thing.

After relating the (completely fictitious) story of his supposed "drunken misadventure" to the tech guys and handing over Linda's note (apparently there are lots of news people versed in shorthand) they've given him not only a t-shirt, but a jacket a previous worker left here that zips up his neck and conceals the collar quite adeptly. Once he admits that he knows his way around a booth (the techs at GBS Central thought he was 'adorable' and taught him everything—he put up with it because they gave him cookies) they stick him in there, where he's threatened to within an inch of his life by a crotchety old technician who has been "runnin' this here booth since before you were born, sonny, an' if you break anythin', I'll toss you out on your ear faster 'n you can beg f'r mercy." Wally just smiles and nods before being plunked down in front of sound controls. He starts going over all the switches, making sure he knows where each one is, looking up only when a couple of donuts land next to him.

The sheepish senior scowls and mutters something about "too skinny" and "don' wantcha passin' out in t' middle of airtime" and gives him a shove before stalking away to another corner of his domain.

Wally just smiles and takes a bite of chocolate-glazed dough as he continues to check the controls.

Some things never change.

Unfortunately, as the broadcast goes on, Wally sees that a lot of other things have changed. All news reports are a couple days old, and when he catches sight of one, parts of it have been redacted. None of the reports discuss much about the League (or Lords, as he learns they're now called), but those that do are careful not to say anything that could be construed as bad. There are announcements like, "Travel is still not permissible to and from Gotham City, Star City, Central City, Blue Valley, Portland, Dakota City, Rhode Island, and New Mexico." The newscasters still have their happy smiles pasted on, but there's a tense element that shouldn't be there. The strained feeling causes the entire procedure to be nerve-wracking for all concerned. When the call "Clear!" finally goes out, almost everyone heaves an enormous sigh.

Wally's included in that. The gruff old man tells him, "You did good, son, now get outta my face," and shoves him out the door of the booth.

Wally helps to tidy, and then starts to merge with the crowd heading out. He's talking and laughing with random people with more ease than he's felt in while, and starts to feel a tight ball in his chest loosen. All of a sudden, the room goes still and all laughter stops.

The redhead, more than a bit confused, peers around the six-foot giant who has stopped in front of him.

Donna and Tim are standing there, eyes searching the crowd. Donna's wearing leggings and a bustier made of a material that resembles a field of stars, as well as a silver belt to match her mentor's, silver boots, and a silver eagle emblem over her chest. Silver bracelets and armbands and a silver lasso complete the outfit. Tim is dressed in an almost entirely black outfit, with a red section over his chest, red shoulder covers, and red kneecaps. A black and red cape that looks like it's been formed from feathers hangs down behind him. His domino-masked eyes lock onto Wally's, and the former speedster feels a sinking feeling.

He pushes the people in front of him out of the way and heads for the door. Donna moves out of his way and follows him. Tim stays to glare at everyone in there before coming after them as well.

Wally stops at the door and takes one last look around. Most of the faces are stunned. A few are angry. All hold a slight tinge of fear and sympathy.

Linda is staring at him from the back of the room, eyes narrowed in thought. He can practically see the gears turning in her head as she lines this piece of information up with everything else she's seen and everything else he's told her.

The moment when it all clicks is painfully obvious—her eyes go wide and her mouth falls open by a fraction. He gives her a sardonic smile.

Her open mouth changes into a genuine grin, and she raises her hand to return his earlier two-fingered salute just as the door closes behind him.

Donna opens her mouth, as if to say something, but Wally jut shakes his head and turns towards the main doors.

"Let's just get out of here."

As soon as the heavy black door swings shut behind the Lords, babble breaks out among everyone as they try to figure out what just happened. Linda expertly dodges every question aimed her way, feeling giddy and slightly warm from the secret contained within her. Finding him by the memorial, his talking about a 'friend' who's 'done some things' in his absence, the presence of a collar…it all fits. She has to share this information with the right parties, and quickly.

So she ducks and dodges, making her way not towards her office, which is bugged, but towards the basement and a janitor's closet she's used before.

When opened, the interior looks perfectly normal—cleaning supplies, buckets, rags, old papers, busted electronics.

She pulls out a gift card for a coffee chain, one that she is never going to use for it's intended purpose, and swipes it down the side of an old desktop lying busted on the floor.

The screen lights up, and small compartment pops out of the side, a stylus contained within it. Picking it up, she scribbles a message in shorthand (one of the best codes of all time) on the blue surface, making sure it shows up. Once it's written, she hits the enter key and watches it disappear.

Five minutes later, she's out of the building and at her usual Mom-and-Pop coffee shop, and her message has bounced to a thousand different servers, arriving at its destination with absolutely no trace of where it originated from.

KF alive and well. Visited news station in capital, helped with broadcast. Civilian identity. WW. Wearing collar. Collected by Lords—tracking capabilities? No casualties or searches. All safe.

-Agent L.

At the other end, the message is handed to the leader of the Outsiders, who reads it and chuckled.

Now that sounds like Wally.

Chapter Text

Arkham Asylum

March 18th

5:57 EDT

Nightwing has returned to the facility, this time testing out a prototype Tim made for him. They're similar to the wing-gliders the younger wears as part of his Red Robin costume, but with feathers in the protector of Bludhaven's trademark blue and black instead of black and red.

They appeared in the Bat-Cave last night while he hadn't been there, a silent almost-apology for not believing.

He still isn't ready to forgive Tim, not by a long shot, but he needs the wings to reach the island. A sense of urgency had crept over him as soon as he left the Hall. They need to finish the project, and they need to do it soon.

Artemis requested a leave of absence last night, insisting that she needed time to think.

Huh.

He can guess what she needs time to 'think' about. For years she had been the one most dedicated to their cause, willing to do anything to make the world safer. But after seeing Wally's cold (unthinking) anger, she had started to act skittish and lost. He had caught her staring out the window several times, and once with her mask off, holding her hair up in a ponytail and gazing at her reflection wistfully. She'd stopped as soon as she'd spotted him, but she had still been doing it.

Well, she isn't needed right now. Her work, rounding up and destroying the last remnants of the criminals who had ruined the world, is done for the moment. He'll set to work finding the Resistance—giving their Tigress something new to hunt should fix her mood.

Especially if they can give her her partner back.

No. Not if.

When they make Wally realize how much better the world is this way, he'll join their side. They'll be a Team again, a family again.

And if they can finish the project…then they'll have their mentors back, too. All of them, working together, to make the world the best it can be.

While his flight is level, if tricky, the landing is not as smooth as Nightwing might have hoped. He stumbles upon landing in the courtyard, and is forced to drop the glider in order to execute a graceless tumble into a somewhat standing position.

The former acrobat is just grateful that no one was around to see that travesty of tumbling. He scoops up the wings and neatly arranges them in a shadowy corner before heading inside, nodding at the guards on his way past. They ignore him, as they've been trained to do.

M'gann is busy with an uncooperative J'onn, once again trying to break into his mind without losing her grip on the other patients. He slips quietly past the cell, heading into the depths of the basement.

He cautiously opens the door to the workroom. The black walls are lit with the harsh light from fluorescent lamps set on a worktable. Vials of strange potions mingle with beakers of chemicals and diagrams of nanochips. Several small bio-circuitry bits are laid out on a table. Zatanna stands over them, chanting.

"evomeR lla secart fo naitaltA yrecros!"

There's a quiet boom and puff of smoke that rises in her face. Zatanna coughs and swears in Italian before examining the chips again.

"How's it going?"

Nightwing walks over to examine the alien bio-chips. The blue glow of the magic of Atlantis has dimmed slightly, but not entirely.

"Not sure yet." Zatanna doesn't turn to greet him, being too engrossed in her work. "Raquel had an idea for a different direction to take this in. You know how before we were using fresh echinoderm samples and trying to duplicate the Light's efforts?" She studies the chips a bit more before noting something down on a pad.

"Yeah, but the similarities of the reverse-engineered samples were too easy for the vaccine to block."

"Well, now I'm working with samples of the cure. If we can shift the molecular structure, they should be able to work around the earlier samples to function the same way as the original." Apparently satisfied by the results now, she turns and leans back against the counter so she's looking at him.

"So what was with the plosion?" He moves closer and bends over towards the worktable, trying to avoid her intense gaze.

Zatanna raises an eyebrow at him. "You must be feeling better if you're back to butchering the English language. I was trying to take out Mera's magic to replace it with mine." She sighs. "So far, Tim and I have been having a bit more luck, but it still needs tweaking. And he's not exactly a biochemistry expert yet. Wally was always the sciency one."

"Then we'll just have to get him down here, won't we?" Nightwing muses. He carefully picks up a chip and examines it, turning it over in his gloved fingers.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Zatanna asks. She keeps most of her attention on the chips, picking one up and studying it in careful disinterest. "He may not want to."

"I just need…some time. To talk him around. You'll see." He swiftly changes the subject. "What's the status on Klarion and Nabu?"

Zatanna shrugs in response. "They haven't declared a winner yet, or managed to escape the pocket dimension I trapped them in. As long as we can get these finished before they find a way to break out, we should be fine."

"Fair enough. Have you tried talking to Kaldur? He might be of some help in removing the sorcery."

"Not yet. I want to experiment first." She turns back and starts fiddling with a potion, holding it up to the light and letting a few drops fall on a single sample.

"Remember, we're on a time limit," he warns her. They need to get this finished before a mass outbreak happens among the inmates too big to control.

Zatanna rolls her eyes and huffs at him. "I know that. Just give me some time to work it out."

There's not much he can say, so he just nods and turns away.

After their takeover, a year had gone by without too much restlessness from any of the former League members. Unfortunately, a year was the only reprieve they had gotten before something seemed to come over the inmates. Even in their catatonic states, they had become more restless and irritable, likely to lash out at the guards and each other, and coming closer and closer to breaking the mental coercions.

An emergency meeting of the senior members (plus Tim, who had figured out about the League in less than two months—and offered to help with containment) had been convened. It was Kaldur, actually, who had thought of Starrotech. The giant sea star had proven very effective at controlling minds before. Their only problem, of course, was that the League had already been inoculated against the sample used the first time. Those samples had been controlled by Klarion, anyway, and he had already been trapped in a pocket dimension with Doctor Fate at the time.

Thus had begun the long and mainly fruitless cultivation of a sample that would be similar enough to the original to function effectively, but with enough differences that it would be able to get around the vaccination already in place.

So far, no results. But if they could just get Wally, their best scientist, to help…

His communicator beeps in his ear.

"This is Nightwing. Go."

"We found Wally." It's Donna. Tim is clearly still afraid of his wrath. Or of having to endure an "I-told-you-so" from a less skilled detective. "He was at a news station, but he came quietly when we showed up. He's back at the Hall of Justice now, and he says—" The exasperation in her tone is obvious. "That he isn't going anywhere until you let him go to Central."

"Why Central?" Nightwing's tone is sharp. Travel to and from Central City is forbidden right now, especially after Static saw Red Arrow there only a few hours ago. The last thing he needs is for Wally to tangle with the Resistance. Actually, the last thing he needs is for them to get word that Wally is alive.

"He wants to pay his respects to his aunt."

That simple statement causes a pang of guilt that proves notoriously difficult to shake away. The explosion had been a necessary, if unfortunate, accident. Iris was not supposed to have been hurt. She wasn't supposed to have even been there. Captain Cold had been bribed to cause a small explosion, enough to make the building nonfunctional, maybe enough to hurt a few people. Just to give Barry a scare. He was so close to joining their side after Wally's disappearance. If they could just give him that one push…

Unfortunately, it had been a push in the wrong direction. Iris was gone; her unborn children with her, and Barry had been convinced it was his fault. Losing his wife and nephew—more like his son, really—because of his activities as a hero had convinced him to drop the mantle. They had found him sitting in the wreckage of the news studio, cowl torn off, sobbing.

It had been pitifully easy for M'gann to knock him out and keep him under long enough to get an inhibitor collar on him and get him into a stasis cell. The newer Team members (except for Bart, who had run off somewhere) were on a mission, and since everything was ready to go, they had decided to take advantage of the opportunity.

The Justice League had fallen within two days. The world had taken a week; the villains, two. From there it had largely been a matter of logistics, organization, and new costumes.

He still feels a twinge of remorse for what happened to Iris. Wally's aunt had always been wonderful to him, kind and caring, almost like his own mother. She even resembled Mary Grayson to some degree, with her slender build and red hair.

And Wally…this is supposed to be for him, this new world, this better world…even if he can't quite see it yet.

But without his family…

"Hello?" Wonder Woman's still speaking. Apparently his little thought excursion has taken quite some time. "Nightwing? Are you still there?"

"Uh—yeah, yeah, I am. One sec."

He rubs his temples, trying to figure out a solution to his dilemma. Wally's been distraught and upset with them—him—ever since waking up, and he's proven that he's still stubborn enough to run off on his own. At least if he authorizes the trip, he might be able to get back in Wally's good books, and they'll be able to contain him. But if the Resistance is in town…

Hmmm…

"Zee," he says, taking his hand off the comm. "Do you have any more of those physio-morphic charms? Like, one we could use to disguise Wally?"

She casts him a confused look. "Not on me, no, but I've enough ingredients here that I could make one. Why?"

"He wants to go to Central. Even on lockdown, if someone who knew him sees him, it could set off a lot of things. Easier just to disguise him."

Zatanna purses her lips and nods. "Gimme a minute."

In actuality, it's fifteen minutes, a whole lot of chanting, and several weird smells later by the time she hands over a watch with a blue, faintly glowing crystal face.

"Same deal as Artemis's. To anyone who doesn't know he's alive, Wally's just going to look like some other random person."

"Thanks, Zee. Good luck with the chips."

He's out the door before she can respond, so she just sighs and turns back to her work.

"llepsiD eht cigam nihtiw eseht spihc!"

Hall of Justice

March 18th

6:17 EDT

Wally endures the march (well, walk, but he felt like being dramatic) back to the Hall in silence. He has a feeling he's in enough trouble already.

As soon as they're back inside the library, however, he puts his foot down.

"I'm not going."

Tim, who's already started to program the Zeta tubes, looks up at him in surprise. "Sorry?"

"I'm not going back up there." He turns around and stalks over to a seat, dropping down into it. Crossing his arms over his chest and glaring proves a very effective deterrent.

Donna starts to take a step forward, but backs off at the glower he perfected for when Nelson tried to steal his food. Hey, where is Nelson, anyway? No! Focus on the glower.

"Wally, Nightwing said you're supposed to go—"

"Nightwing, huh? Well, then you can call him and tell him that I'm not going anywhere until he lets me go to Central City." Hey, if he's gonna get in trouble anyway, he might as well do something he really wants to do before winding up in lockdown again.

Plus, seeing all those people in the news station, afraid of his teammates—his family!—

Well, he's decided that he hates the future. He wants the world back to the way it used to be.

Meaning that he's ready to take up that weird vanishing guy's offer.

"Central?"

Wally's face assumes a blank expression, and he very carefully avoids eye contact.

"My aunt…she's buried there. I wasn't here for the funeral. I just want to say goodbye."

No acting required here. It's the absolute truth. His brain still descends into a minor restless frenzy whenever the thought that Aunt Iris is dead hits him.

Tim and Donna both look mildly abashed. After a quick exchange of glances, Donna moves into the corner and starts to talk into her comm. Five minutes later, she comes back over, a calm expression on her face. "He's coming. It'll take him a while, though."

Wally is not at all sure that he wants to see Nightwing, but if it means he gets to go to Central, he'll suck it up and bear it.

He refuses to feel guilty for trying to join an organization he's fairly certain is attempting to undermine his—former—friends. They made their choices, and they were all bad ones. Now he needs to fix their mistakes.

It's a long wait for Nightwing. By the time the clock has hit 6:42, he is most definitely bored.

"Where is he, anyway?"

Tim shrugs. "No idea."

Donna sighs. "They've all been very secretive for a long time. It's almost as bad as when my sister and the others—" she catches Tim making a slicing motion across his throat and cuts off as the concealed Zeta tubes whir, admitting Nightwing.

"Wally, there you are." He comes closer and holds out a blue-faced watch which the redhead takes it cautiously.

"Um…thanks?" He fastens it around his wrist, eying it skeptically. "Does this mean I can go?"

"Yes. Just take an escort with you, okay?"

Wally wants to argue, but Dick's somehow giving him the big puppy-dog eyes through his domino mask and he can't bring himself to.

"Fine."

Nightwing nods, and vanishes back behind the Authorized Personnel Only doors. Once he's gone, Wally perks up. "Let's go, you guys!"

Donna begs off abashedly. "I'm sorry, Wally, I can't. I have monitor duty on the Beta Watchtower and my shift starts in—five minutes." She gives him a hug. "It's good to see you again. We've missed you."

He returns it briefly. "Yeah."

"And I need to file mission reports. I'll check with the Team and see if any of them are available." Tim points a finger at Wally. "Do not leave the building."

Wally sighs. "Aren't you supposed to be the fun one?"

"Who has time for fun? I feed on justice."

Wally gapes at the youngest member of the Batclan. "Did—did you just make a joke?"

"No." Tim maintains a perfectly straight face as he turns and heads toward the Zeta tubes.

"I'm so proud!" Wally calls after him.

"Sure you are." Tim vanishes in a whir and flash of yellow light.

Wally just sits there drumming his heels, waiting for someone else to show up.

I'll give them ten minutes, and then I'm leaving, like it or not.

Chapter Text

Hall of Justice

March 18th

6:49 EDT

Fortunately for Wally's somewhat-restricted-but-still-present freedom, there's an announcement before his count can even hit seven minutes and twenty seconds.

"Recognized: Impulse, B-two-three. Static, B-two-six."

"Finally! Can we go now? I've been waiting for hours!"

"Really?" Static shoots him a skeptical look, and holds back a yawn. "Then apparently there were a couple extra hours in the day nobody told me about that I could have used to sleep a little more."

"Yeah, yeah, come on!" Wally jumps to his feet and strides between the two younger heroes, grabbing their arms and dragging them along.

Bart is looking nervous as Wally tries Babs's code. Static just looks bored and sleepy.

Code not valid. Please try again.

"Rats." Wally pulls up the designations, and finds that he's been moved to the 'authorized guest' list. Going a little deeper, he finds that the authorization permits him to reach Central City, the Hall, and the Watchtower. Nowhere else.

"Double rats. I was hoping it would take them longer to block me out."

Static yawns again. "Well, you can go to Central, right?"

"Yeah…"

"Then stop complaining and let's go. Gripe to the bosses later if you're so annoyed."

"That is an excellent plan," Wally says, already mulling over the best way to present his case.

"Sounds moded to me," Bart mutters. He's very carefully not looking up.

Even a sleep-deprived teenager has an acute sense of when people around them are becoming involved in a tense emotional moment. Static is no exception. He looks back and forth between the two speedsters, and announces, "I'll just go ahead…and…y'know, check the perimeter." With that, he steps in and lets the Zeta network sweep him away.

"Bart," Wally says quietly. "What's up?"

Bart looks up and gives him the big sad eyes, but Wally knows better than to fall for them this time. "Do I have to go?"

"Well, aside from the fact that you're supposed to be my 'escort', I'd like you to come."

"But…"

"But what?"

"It'smyfaultGrandma'sdead," Bart blurted out. It took Wally a moment to puzzle through it, but he did have experience with speedtalk.

"What? How could you think that?"

Bart shifted and didn't look at him. "If I had just been a little faster—if Grandpa and I had just gotten there sooner—or—or—" he gulped. "If I had just run a little slower—at the North Pole—you wouldn't have vanished—and you'd still be KidFlashandyou'dbebetterthanIwasandyouwouldhavedonesomethingrightand—"

"Whoa. Bart, breathe." Wally was more than a bit stunned by his cousin's thoughts. "Now I need you to listen to me, okay?"

Bart nodded but still didn't look at him.

"Okay. Bart, none of this is your fault." It's mine. "Uncle B was the Flash. He was the greatest hero there ever was, and even he couldn't always get there in time. What happened to A-Aunt Iris—" he's proud of himself for only stumbling a little on her name. "—wasn't your fault. And the North Pole definitely wasn't your fault. I knew the risks and I made my choice." I was just too slow. "Even if I had made it out, I'd still have given you Kid Flash. I told you, my turn with the mantle is over."

"I don't blame you. Nobody blames you. If—your grandma—" he can manage it once, but not again. "—was here, she'd tell you the same thing. It's not your fault, okay? It never was."

Bart doesn't look totally convinced, but at least he doesn't look like he's about to cry either. So Wally just squeezes his shoulders and walks into the Zeta tubes, ready to find some answers at last.

"Recognized: Wally West, A-one-three."

At this rate, I wonder if anyone's going to remember that I used to be Kid Flash…

Outsiders HQ

Central City

March 18th

5:51 CDT

Will's jarred awake by a loud, shrill, insistent noise echoing from his comm. Next to him, Jade bolts up, a sai already in her hand. He doesn't really know where she keeps it, and decided a long time ago that he doesn't want to. When she sees the comm, her eyelids flutter shut and she lies back down.

"Shut that thing off before it wakes the kids," she mutters. "And if it does, you're handling them."

"I know," he grumbles, grabbing it off the table and slipping it in his ear. "Red Arrow here." There's a pause as someone talks at the other end, and then a loud "What?"

More talk. Jade listlessly listens from her half-asleep position, torn between idle curiosity and a desire for more sleep.

Will swears in Navajo. "We'll get on it right away.

Che. Good-bye, sleep.

"What was that about?" she asks around a yawn, sitting up. "And where are you getting this 'we' from?"

Will's already out of bed and pulling on a pair of pants, trying to not to jar his sore arm too much. "Wally's coming to Central. It's time to start the plan in motion."

"What?" Jade is immediately alert. "Now?"

"Yeah. That was Static. He's in the city now as an escort, and Wally and Bart are coming."

Jade stares at her hands as their entire situation crashes onto her with startling immediacy.

Before, when her part of the plan was just theft of needed parts—something she excelled at—she could ignore the reality and impossibility of the task they were attempting.

Now, though, knowing that they're about to start a chain of events in motion that can never be undone, she's having a bit of difficulty keeping her famous casual demeanor.

If the plan goes wrong, they're definitely screwed. If the plan goes right…they still might be screwed.

Her husband notices her state of shock, and comes over to sit beside her.

"Chesh," he says in a gentle voice. "It's going to be okay."

"You can't know that," she says, as roughly and bluntly as possible, as though that will drive away reality.

"No, I can't," he admits. He never sugar-coats things or masks them under a layer of hopeful idealism. It's one of the things she loves about him. "But I do know that whatever happens, it means that our children won't have to grow up in a world where their parents are wanted criminals with a death penalty on their heads."

Somehow, that one sentence motivates her more than a thousand inspirational speeches ever could.

Jade pulls the man who will always be "the real Roy Harper" to her into a passionate kiss, before releasing him and getting dressed in her uniform for what will hopefully be the last time.

Milagro's reading by the light of her ring when there's a knock on the door to her room. She blinks, taking a moment to come out of the book. It's one of her favorites—partly because she loves the story, and partly because it was a gift from Jaime, back before…all this.

After stashing it in a safe place, she gets out of bed and opens the door. Jade is standing there, dressed in her kimono and with her trademark mask held in one hand.

"Babysitting duty again?" the teenager asks around a yawn.

Mila actually doesn't mind babysitting, especially not for Jade and Will. After she had first left home, there had been a difficult adjustment period. Originally, the plan had been for her to join a Resistance cell in some city sufficiently far enough away from El Paso that she could fly under the radar. The ring had changed all that, however. Her new abilities meant that she was inducted into the Outsiders—the meta strike team and leaders of the Resistance.

It had been hard for a while. Just leaving behind everything she'd ever know would have been hard for any thirteen-year-old, but coping with incredible powers and living as a fugitive on top of all that? Well, it had made her life very complicated.

The arrangement with the two older vigilantes had started one evening in a base outside of Salt Lake City. Some kind of machinery had been needed from a STAR Labs facility, and the only way to obtain it was through theft. It was a job for two people—two experienced people—and Cheshire and Red Arrow were the only ones who fit the bill. Mila had been monitoring the channels when Cheshire had walked in, placed Lian on the table, informed the surprised girl that she was now the designated babysitter, threatened her with mutilation should any harm come to the daughter of an assassin, and strolled out again.

Since then, Milagro's served as babysitter extraordinaire and adopted "Auntie Mia" to Lian. Cheshire still brings Paul along with her on heists, but the young Green Lantern knows that as soon as he gets too heavy to carry, she'll have another charge on her hands. She doesn't mind. He's practically her nephew by now. And Will and Jade have both done so much to help her make a home among the Outsiders.

"Not this time," the Vietnamese woman says quietly. "Wally's coming to Central. We're moving into the 'go' stage."

Milagro's first thought is, sadly, Couldn't he have waited for me to finish my book?

Fortunately, the sensible, businesslike part of her mind takes over before she can blurt out anything embarrassing.

Of course, she still doesn't have an intelligent comment to contribute, so she settles for "Oh."

And then, once it fully hits her, "Dios Mio."

Jade sighs. "I share that sentiment. Come on. Chief wants you on-site in case we need the extra energy. Power up."

"I thought I wasn't supposed to—"

"Rules have changed. And we both know you never listened anyway." The fiery former assassin raises an eyebrow at her.

"Oh." Milagro looks down and shuffles her feet in a response she thought only her mother could elicit. She had thought that no one knew about her secret midnight excursions to practice flying with her ring. It's not like anyone ever caught her, and she always remembered to bring a power concealer so the Lords couldn't pick her up.

There's actually a chuckle. "I'm not mad, sweet. I'm proud. Rebellious instincts are exactly what you need in times like these. And at least you were smart about it. If you weren't, we'd be having a very different conversation."

Mila can imagine. The only thing more terrifying than an angry Cheshire was a Jade whose family had been harmed.

"Suit up and be over at the Chief's place ASAP."

The girl nods, still dazed, and allows her ring to project a green energy that clings onto her skin to form a costume of black and green. The absence of wings and helmet, as well as a pair of green sunglasses and green hair streaks mask the similarities somewhat, but an experienced eye will still note the resemblance it bears to Blue Beetle's armor—one last tribute of an adoring younger sister to a brother who was once worthy of respect.

Jade looks her over with two such experienced eyes, and Milagro braces for a scathing, or at least a derogatory comment on heroes in general and Blue Beetle in particular.

But all the older woman says is, "Nice design. You nervous?"

The answer Duh comes to mind, but the Green Lantern knows better than to give it at a time like this, so she attempts to raise one eyebrow. It makes her look like she's grimacing, but Jade gets the idea.

In return, the older woman shares a soft smile, and the words, "Take care of yourself out there," before vanishing into the shadows.

Milagro gets a funny feeling in her stomach as it sinks in that somewhere along the line, she's come under Mama Cat's protection as well.

It's…not necessarily a bad feeling.

But she puts it out of her head as she retrieves her lantern from the pocket dimension she stores it in. Pressing her ring to it, she quietly recites the oath that she used to shout in the streets of El Paso while playing at a dream that seemed as unreachable as the stars.

A dream that's now as tangible as the ring on her finger.

And a dream she'd trade in an instant to get her brother back.

We're going to save you, Jaime. I promise.

"Enel día más brillante, en la noche más negra.

Ningún malescapará de mi vista.

Que aquellosque adoran de los malos puede,

Tenga cuidado con mi poder ... La luz de Linterna Verde!"

Central City

March 18th

5:57 CDT

Wally and Bart exit the Zeta tubes into a chilly spring almost-morning. It's a couple hours before sunrise, so the sky is still mostly dark, with a faint hint of murky light starting to trickle up from the eastern side of town.

Even in the dim light from streetlamps, Wally can still recognize the vacant lot he used to live near. The Zeta tube is disguised as an abandoned phone booth tucked against the back fence.

A few years back, he once tried to dress it up as a TARDIS for the Doctor Who 50th anniversary, but Batman made him restore it to normal, claiming it was a "security risk."

Wally thinks it's more likely he was bugged by the fact that he, Dick, and even Jason (who had been converted to the TV show by the original members within short order of his taking the Robin mantle) had been fanboying over the anniversary special for weeks.

Hey, wait a minute. If he's been out of it for three years, there must be a ton of episodes he hasn't seen…

Wally. Priorities.

But yeah, the lot's still vaguely the same.

"Yo, dude, where are you going?"

Wally blinks and realizes he's already halfway down the street in the direction of his old home while Bart and Virgil are a quarter of the way down the block in the other direction.

Which if he remembers correctly, is the direction of…the graveyard.

So he tries to make an about-face and catch up with them as casually as possible, pretending all along that he meant to do that.

It's quiet as they walk along the streets towards the edge of the city. Wally knows where the graveyard and mausoleum are, of course; his parents and Au—and the rest of his family go there twice a year to visit the graves of his Grandpa Ira and Grandma Nadine.

Grandma died before he was born and Grandpa died when he was five. Wally can barely remember the skinny old man with messy white hair and a bushy mustache who used to peer at him through round glasses with eyes as sharp as his, and who would talk about physics, either not knowing or not caring that a five-year-old couldn't understand. Wally's often wished that he'd known his grandfather better—from all the stories he's heard over the years, he has a feeling that he'd like the old man.

So Wally's been to the graveyard before, yes, but never to see someone who had been real and alive and immediately involved in his life for as long as he can remember. Artemis's…funeral…didn't count, because he knew she'd been alive. Even though pretending she wasn't had been the hardest thing in the world.

Oh, man…Artemis…

He hasn't seen her since he threw her out of his hospital room. And now…he's probably going to wind up helping a secret organization destroy her.

Why can't life be simple anymore?

"Wally. Wally. Wally. Wally. WallyWallyWallyWallyWallyWallyWallyWally—"

"What?" The Wally in question looks up from his brooding at Bart's insistent repetition of his name and yanking of his arm, only to see that they've reached their destination. "Oh."

The mausoleum is located on the far eastern section of the graveyard, right on the river. It means they have to walk past hundreds of white, grey, and black headstones to reach it.

The building is a tidy white structure with a vaguely Greek design to it. A central, domed part makes up the majority of the architecture, while a few square columns hold up a roof in front of the door. Letters engraved over the door spell debitum naturae.

Debt of nature. Well, that's…grim…

Wally took Latin to learn about scientific roots. It was probably his most boring class, but he's especially adept at picking up languages quickly. Having a brain that moves at near-lightspeed certainly helps.

"D'you wanna…go in alone?" Bart won't look him in the eyes, but the sentiment's clear enough. Please, please don't make me go in there…

"Yeah, I mean, it's your aunt, man," Static says, readjusting his posture. "We'll give you a couple minutes."

The pleading look in Bart's eyes convinces him that it might be for the best. So he nods, slips open the heavy door, and walks inside.

There's a small entryway with branching tunnels. Ordinarily, he'd be lost, but this time, he knows exactly where he's going.

First right, third left, second right. He's good at keeping track of directions after years of listening Barry rattle off routes in speedtalk. Remembering three turns is nothing.

Walking past several graves set into the wall is more than a little creepy, but he does his best to ignore them. And tries not to think about the fact that his aunt—his vivid, vibrant, aunt—is locked away behind one of these stone doors forever.

The grave is exactly where he expected to find it—but that doesn't make the awful feeling in his stomach lessen as he reads the words engraved on a red marble plate.

Iris West-Allen

1981-2016

Beloved Wife, Sister, Aunt, Daughter, Friend

She was taken from us far too soon.

The smaller plaque below that is the one that really breaks his heart.

Dawn Allen

Don Allen

Two sparks that never got to shine.

He chokes up and drops as his knees suddenly fail to support his weight.

He had been so excited when he heard Iris was expecting. It had helped to soften the blow of Bart's sudden (and, if he's truthful, unwelcome) arrival.

They were supposed to call him "Uncle Wally." He would have kidnapped them for random adventures, taken them for runs as soon as they were old enough, spoiled them rotten, and loved them to death.

But now…he supposes that's never going to happen.

Wally doesn't quite know how long he just sits there, unwilling to get up and move on. He needs this—needs the time to grieve, needs the time to mourn the losses that were once intangible and have now come crashing down on him.

But once the overwhelming grief that rises up and threatens to choke him has subsided, his mood changes.

The misery in his belly is gone, replaced by a fiery anger and determination. He will find some way to fix this, some way to atone for the wrongs that were done in his absence.

With that in mind, he gets to his feet and pushes the light switch on the wall. It goes right into the socket, which slides aside with a hiss to reveal a calculator keypad.

He knows Faraday's law, of course. It was one of the first things covered in his high school chem class, and electrochemistry has always been a field he's interested in.

So entering the code is no trouble. He tries not to be shocked—or sick—as the section of the wall with the three plaques on it slides back to reveal a dark space.

Okay, that's…creepy…

He ducks under the low entryway and finds himself in a three-by-three foot space. It's tall enough for him to stand up comfortably, and to move a bit, but still…it's tiny.

And as far as he can see, there's no other way out.

Just as that thought hits him, the panel slides back into place with a whoosh.

And it's dark.

And he's trapped.

In the dark.

Outside

Bart and Virgil are standing casually around in front of the building. Or at least, they're pretending they are. Bart is trying not to vibrate from the stress of being near the evidence of what he considers the biggest mistake of his career. Virgil, on the other hand, is trying to look casual in order to keep from betraying his total awareness. They're here, they're on earth, and the members of the Resistance in the area have been contacted. The plan will be set into motion any second now. He's just waiting for…

There! The signal, an arrow fired into a tree nearby, is subtle, but Static is so alert that it might as well have been fired into his face.

Unfortunately, Bart, who is also hyper-aware, notices it as well. "Heyheyhey, what's that?" Before Virgil can stop him, the overactive teen zips over to the tree and pulls out the arrow, running it back. "Looks like one of Red Arrow's arrows. Man, that guy is so unoriginal! But seriously, isn't he in town? Not crash, not crash at all. We should call—"

Virgil is forced to make a snap decision. If Bart gets a call out to the Lords, it's all over for them. He can't let that happen.

So he summons up some electricity and zaps it through the other boy's body, hoping it will knock him out.

But as soon as Bart whips around to stare at him, clearly still awake, Static could kick himself.

The guy wears a giant red lightning bolt on his costume. Of course electricity's not going to hurt him!

So instead, he takes advantage of the boy's shock to punch him in the face.

That works.

Inside

Wally is claustrophobic. Intensely so. He was even before he got superspeed, but being able to run just below the speed of sound makes being stuck in enclosed spaces even worse. All his thoughts are shouting at him, chanting, Getoutgetoutgetoutgogogogogogogorunrunrunrunrunrunhavetogetouthavetoescape can'tstayhere—

Suddenly, there's a flicker of yellow, a hand on his arm, and an accented voice talking.

"Easy there, amigo. Just hang on while I get you out of here."

And then Wally's vision goes yellow and his stomach starts feeling like it's crawling up his esophagus in an all-too-familiar feeling he's come to associate with Zeta tubes. It's hardly a heartbeat before there's solid ground under his feet again, but it's almost a bit too long for the anxious speedster.

As soon as his feet hit the floor and the strange hands move off him, Wally has to reach up and scrub furiously at a nearly unbearable itching in his eye sockets. His legs go woozy under him and he winds up sitting on the floor as his vision clears.

"Is he all right?" a voice asks, and little bells start going off in Wally's head, but he's too disoriented to figure out why it's so important that he know what that voice is saying.

"Si, señora. Just give him a minute. He was a little panicked when I pulled him out—that didn't help."

Recognition of that voice comes a little easier to his muddled brain. It's the same one he heard at the Hall of Justice that gave him directions here.

Wally blinks, and the yellow spots begin to clear from his vision, giving him a view of a dim green-lit room, roughly fifteen feet square. A tall, skinny teen is standing next to a cloaked and hooded figure a few feet away from him, and a shorter figure, glowing green and wearing a uniform that looks like a weird cross between a Green Lantern outfit and Blue Beetle's armor stands next to them both.

"So that's really him?" the third person asks.

"Yes. Milagro, could you give us a little more light, please?"

"You got it, jefa."

The figure's hand glows, and a little more green light pours into the room, illuminating the faces of the two shorter figures. The hooded person is still hidden.

"Where is this?" Wally asks, shielding his face. "Who are you?"

"You mean he doesn't know?" The Green Lantern shakes green-streaked black hair out of her face to reveal a pair of green aviators that hide her eyes.

"Give him a break, Mila. The dude's been out of it for three years. And you didn't know either when you first showed up, so how would he?"

"Enough." The voice of the older figure is clearly female, and just as clearly equal parts amused and exasperated. It's setting off way too many bells in Wally's head, and he wishes his brain would just settle down already so he has a chance to think and figure it out.

"Again, who are you?"

The figure reaches up to their hood and slowly lowers it. As the scarred face is revealed, Wally stares as his brain tries frantically to comprehend what's happening here.

Under several old, faintly pink scars that crisscross her face, Aunt Iris's warm green eyes gaze at him, amusement clear.

"Hello, Wally."

Later, Wally will claim that he followed through with the only reasonable reaction to the entire situation as he desperately tries to save face.

But for now, his overwhelmed brain gives up in the face of an impossible information overload and he faints.

Chapter Text

Central City

March 18th

6:32 CDT

Wally wakes up from passing out to find himself lying on a floating green ring construct platform. He sits up, more than slightly panicking, and the Green Lantern (who seems pretty young now that he gets a better look at her) waves.

"Feel up to staying awake now?"

He frowns at her. "Who are you? Whose ring is that?"

The Hispanic girl gives him a sardonic salute. "Milagro Reyes, at your service." She frowns. "And it's mine. It chose me."

"No, I mean before that."

That merits an eyebrow raise. "I actually don't know. Hey, ring!"

"Yes, Lantern Milagro?" The voice that comes out of the ring makes Wally's head spin. He's definitely heard that voice before—Hal and John were practically his other uncles growing up—but he can't remember which ring it's from. Each ring has a distinct 'voice.'

"Do you have previous bearers on file?"

"Affirmative."

"Check last known wearer."

"Checking…" A series of humming sounds that sound suspiciously like elevator music emanate from the ring. Milagro whistles along.

"Identity of previous wearer confirmed. This ring was formerly wielded by Hal Jordan of Earth."

Wally's breath catches in his throat. "What happened to him?"

The pause that follows is one of the most unbearable ones he's ever experienced. Finally, the ring breaks it with "Unknown."

"So is he dead? Does that mean dead?" The second question is directed at Milagro, but before she can answer, the ring does.

"Negative."

"Hal's alive?"

"Unknown."

"Gah!" Wally throws his hands up in the air. "How do you get any answers out of that stupid piece of junk?"

"Hey, leave my ring alone. It's trying to answer your question."

"So is the League alive or aren't they?" Wally demands, frustration evident in his tone.

"We don't know."

Wally spins around so abruptly to answer that familiar voice that he falls off the platform and lands, with much flailing of arms, on the floor.

"Are you alright, Wally?" Aunt Iris is peering down at him, concern and laughter warring on her face.

And somehow, that's the final straw.

"You know what? No! No, I am not all right!" Wally picks himself up off the ground and dusts his jacket off, continuing his tirade the entire time. "I go into an impossible situation, expecting to die, and I come out three freaking years later to find that my best friends have conquered the world and possibly killed nearly everyone I care about, and oh yeah, that you're supposed to be dead!"

He's shouting now, and his eyes are suspiciously hot, but he ignores that.

"And then, when I try to do something about it, I find that not only are you alive, but you're in the freaking resistance movement!"

"Technically, she's leading the freaking resistance movement."

Wally spins around for the second time in as many minutes. Fortunately, he doesn't fall over this time, but he nearly does when he sees who's talking.

"You? You're in this too?"

Static is standing there, next to the teen who keeps teleporting out of nowhere and grabbing him. The teleporter is the one who steps forward.

"Easy, amigo, it's not what you think. This guy is on our side."

"Yeah, I am. I have been ever since the beginning." Static holds up his hands in a placating gesture.

"Yeah, right. You're probably a double agent from the beginning is what you are!"

"Don't you ever say that about him! You don't know what he's done for this—for you!" Virgil just looks stunned at the accusations, but the other teen rises ferociously to his defense.

"What do you mean, for me?" Wally is just about ready to snap. "Because, y'know, I'm really, really sick of people doing things and claiming they're doing them for me!"

"Wally, enough." The steel is his aunt's voice is all too familiar, and it instantly reins him in. He can easily see how she's the leade—

"Wait. Wait, wait, back up. You're leading the Resistance?"

She raises an eyebrow at him. "I am indeed."

Wally's brain is rather unable to function at this. "How did this happen?"

Iris sighs and runs a hand over her red hair, which has been cut to her shoulders. Wally takes a good look at his aunt for the first time, and does his best not to flinch. There are scars on her head that were never there before, the mark of old, painful burns, running down her left cheek and over her nose and forehead, continuing down her neck. He can see smaller, spottier burns on the right side of her face, and recognizes marks of shrapnel with a painful wince.

She went through that…while he wasn't here.

And embarrassingly, it takes until then for his brain to make a final, crucial connection.

"Wait—how did this happen? And since it did—what happened to the twins?"

Apparently, judging from the winces and looks exchanged by the three teens and the way Iris's expression shutters, that's a sensitive subject.

"Largo relato," the yellow teen mutters to his friend.

"Si. Eso es un eufemismo," Mila adds sarcastically.

"What?" Wally demands.

"They said, 'it's a long story,'" Virgil helpfully volunteers.

"Virgil, Ed, Milagro, go keep an eye on Bart. Let me know when he wakes up. And don't let him run around. Power concealers have been on the fritz lately."

"You got it, boss." The yellow teen, who Wally assumes is Ed, salutes and heads out of the room, dragging Virgil along with him. Milagro lets her ring encase her in green light and flies off, waving cheerily to Wally as she follows the two boys.

"Wally, come with me, please."

Iris strides off out the other door, and Wally follows her, matching her quick pace. She's pulled her hood back up, which is slightly unnerving, but it hides her scars.

I guess that's the point…

"So, where are we going?" Wally asks, keeping his eyes ahead and trying not to betray his glances towards her black cloak.

"The labs. Virgil told us you the Lords put an inhibitor collar on you. We can get it off."

"Seriously?" Wally nearly trips, but recovers with a leap partly motivated by joy, partly motivated by his desire to continue matching his aunt's pace.

"Yes. Although by now you probably want an explanation."

"Uh, yes. How did this happen? Why are you here? And what are you doing to take down the Lords?"

"It is a long story," Iris says with a laugh. "But it's also a long walk, so here goes."

"Start with how you survived," Wally suggests. "Bart told me that…the news station got blown up."

"It did." Iris speaks in a soft, sad tone. "My last day before maternity leave. It was lunch break, so not many people were there, luckily. But those who were inside…didn't survive. I was following Captain Cold out of the building, because I was…hoping for a story. I only made it as far as an outer hallway before I got blown through the wall by the explosion. That's how I got these." She gestured at the left side of her head, probably indicating the scars underneath. "I passed out at the edge of the wreckage. The Runaways—"

"The who-now?"

Iris waved a hand vaguely. "It's what Tye, Asami, and Ed took to calling themselves. They were passing through and saw the explosion. Ed teleported me to out to safety. It turns out that Virgil knew this other group of heroes that called themselves the Outsiders. They were a bit like your Team, originally—they worked as a covert ops team that wasn't associated with the League. Black Lightning used to be a member, and he told Virgil about him, who told his friends. They chose to check them out instead of becoming more closely associated with the League. The Runaways brought me to them for medical attention, and I stayed once I learned that Barry and the rest of the League were missing. So the twins and I were hidden and safe when the Lords took over the world. Since then, well…since then, we've been working from the shadows. We've built up what was originally a small organization into a worldwide network. The original Outsiders are all working in other countries right now, but we've been making a new meta strike team for special operations. Besides the three you just met, there's Tye and Asami, Jade…"

"As in Cheshire? Wally asks, surprised.

"The same. Plus both Harpers and Jade and Will's kids."

"Wait, Jade and Red Arrow had another kid?"

"Yes. Paul. He's cute."

Wally shakes his head, realizing that if things had stayed their normal course, he would've had babysitting duty for that kid. "And Static too, I'm assuming?"

"Virgil's technically a member, but you won't find him listed in any files. It pays to be paranoid, especially when you're a spy infiltrating the most powerful people on the planet." She turns down another hallway and starts going down their third staircase. "Sorry for the long Lords have tech specially designed to track unusual energy signatures. Before we developed devices to mask ours, the only way we could have labs was to build them deep enough that they couldn't be detected."

"How does that whole spy-thing work, anyway? What if Miss M just reads his mind?"

Iris chuckles. "There is a reason we chose Static to be the spy. You know how his powers work?"

"Yeah, he can channel and control electromagnetic fields. But I—" the truth hit him with the force of a hundred dropped pennies. "Oh. That's good. That's very good."

"Isn't it?" He'll swear that she's smirking. "He's always unconsciously generating a static field around his brain that automatically blocks all forms of mind reading or control. Keeps our favorite Martian from taking a peek inside his mind, and our secrets safe. Here we are."

Iris comes to a stop outside a steel door and takes a deep breath, exhaling in a sigh. "Wally…I need you to stay calm."

Wally was instantly the opposite of calm. "Wait, what? Why would I need to stay calm? What are you hiding?"

"A secret underground resistance movement." There's a hint of amusement in her tone, but more than a bit of tension as well.

"Very funny. You know what I mean."

"It's easier to show you, honestly. But please don't freak out."

Yeah…that doesn't really help much…

Iris punches a code into a keypad and Wally does his best to follow it. It's a bit more complex than the one he'd used to get in, but he's pretty sure he can remember in a pinch.

There are several whirs from within the door before a retinal scanner pops out. Iris pulls down her hood and steps forward, letting the red beam get a god look at her eyes.

"Iris West-Allen," she says, enunciating clearly.

Wally jumps back as a large gun pops out of the wall and points at him. His heart is beating so fast he thinks it just might pop out of his chest.

"And guest," she adds, an irritated inflection mixed with dry amusement. The gun retreats into the wall.

"Paranoid, much?" Wally gasps out. Heart, you can resume normal beating now.

Iris's next sigh is definitely exasperated. "He has good reason to be."

It takes the sound of about five different locks unlocking and the grinding of gears before the door slowly hisses open to reveal what Wally will forever think of as "Candyland."

Of course, getting a better look at it tells him that a lot of this stuff is secondhand or scrounged, but hey, it's still a lab full of stuff.

"This is sweet. I can get this thing off myself, if you can just give me some privacy, a laser cutter, a wiring kit, three chili dogs, and a mirror." Wally trots over to a worktable to examine the spread of tools, hoping to find a pair of tweezers.

"Wouldn't a diamond cutter be better, given how close to your skin the laser would have to go?"

"Good point. Thanks…"

Wally turns around to face whoever just came in, only to freeze in place when he's confronted with a regrettably familiar and entirely unwelcome visage.

"What," Wally says flatly, question directed at his aunt. "Is he doing here?"

From behind the figure of Iris West-Allen, Lex Luthor bares his trademark business grin—the one that always reminded Wally uncomfortably of a large predator moving in on a particularly fruitful kill.

Before a confrontation can take place, there's a crackle of static from around Iris's head. She places one finger on it and says, "This is Iwa. Go."

Milagro's voice is in her ear. "We have a problem."

"What?"

"Bart's up." There's a crash on the other end of the comm. "And loose. And enfadado."

"Damn," Iris curses. "Can you contain him with your ring?"

"If he slows down long enough for me to get a shield around him? Es possible."

"Then do it. I'll be right there."

"Bring Wally. That might calm him down." There's another loud noise and some more indecipherable yelling. "Cagada! Got to go, jefa. Hurry!" The comm link shuts off.

"Wally, Luthor, come on. We need to head Bart off before he blows our cover."

"I'm not going anywhere with him until you explain," Wally snaps, arms crossed over his chest.

"I'll explain on the way, but we need to go. Remember what I said about the Lords tracking energy signatures? Speedsters release a very specific signature when they run. If we don't stop Bart, now, they'll be on this place in a heartbeat."

Wally hesitates, clearly torn, but he eventually gives in. "Fine. But he goes in front."

"I would expect nothing less."

Wally glares at the man with a special hatred in his green eyes that Iris has only ever seen when Barry was hurt in their fights against the criminals of Central City. If the Rogues had been here to see it, they would have immediately run for the hills. They all have experiences with that look—bad ones.

In an attempt to staunch the hostilities for now, she shoves Luthor out the door, grabs Wally by the arm, and hustles them all down the hallway towards the staircase.

She is not looking forward to the explanation of how Luthor wound up on their side…

Mostly because it sounds suspect even to her, and she lived through it.

Watchtower Prime

March 18th

11:56 UTC

Conner frowns as he monitors the holographic globe, looking for energy readings. When they had first set this up, it had been an excellent way to catch many members of the Resistance. It's become less effective, presumably as the members were either wiped out or found a way to hide themselves, but it's still useful.

His problem at the moment is that there are several random glitches of energy popping up in the Central area. They're erratic and never last more than a second or two, but they're still there.

He reaches for his comm and dials up Virgil.

"Superman to Static."

A brief pause, and then, "Static here. What's up, boss?"

"Are you alright? You sound like you're breathing hard."

"I'm fine. Did you want something? Please say yes. It's really boring down here."

Conner smirks a bit. He likes Static, actually. The kid's can-do attitude and sense of humor remind him of Wally, and it's a comforting familiarity.

"We're just getting some weird energy readings from down there. See anything unusual?"

"No, not really. Everything's pretty quiet. Bart and I were just waiting for Wally, but he went inside to pay his own respects."

"Well, I think someone should investigate. Blue's still up here. I'll send him down and have him check it out."

"Perfect. Mind asking him to rendezvous with us first? We're at the graveyard on the east side."

"Got it. Superman out."

A few minutes later, Blue Beetle is beaming down to Earth, and Static is running through his muttered litany of every single profane word he knows in every possible combination.

Twice.

Chapter Text

Central City

Outsiders Base

March 18th

6:57 CST

Milagro makes eye contact with Static and Ed, who're hiding on the other side of the corridor, and nods. After the 'chasing-a-goddamed-speedster' strategy had proven ridiculously ineffective, they had gone for another solution.

All the doors leading out of this hallway are already closed, courtesy of Ed, leaving just this hallway open to what was supposedly an unlocked door at the end. If Bart wants to get out, this is the only way he can go.

And he has to get out if he wants to send a message. They took his comm before he woke up, and Mila has it on her right now. It's a tracker and actively transmitting a signal, so they can't destroy it, but luckily it doesn't show depth. To anyone who thinks to check, it should just look like Bart's on the surface. All the computers are in a different section of the compound and DNA-locked, so he won't be able to access them. So while Bart may be a wild card, they've still got a full hand.

Ready? Virgil mouths at her.

She nods and makes her ring go brighter before pulling out a coil of copper wire and carefully rolling it across the floor. Static draws it toward him, and while she holds tight to her end, they lift it up 'till it's at knee height above the floor.

Ed pulls down his goggles as a pattering noise indicates Bart's approach and Virgil lets a tendril of electricity snake out along the wire.

3…2…Impact!

Impulse runs right into the wire and stumbles as the electricity temporarily halts his forward movement. Mila throws up a bell-jar-shaped ring construct, and Ed jumps out and teleports him into it before teleporting out again, leaving Bart on the floor.

The boys exchange high-fives while Milagro laughs, pleased with the success of their plan.

Of course, the success only really lasts until Bart starts zipping around his prison, bouncing off the walls.

"Maldito, Bart!" Milagro loses patience and jumps out to stand in front of the construct. She takes off her sunglasses, ignoring Virgil and Ed's frantic head-shaking. She doesn't care that they're trying to keep him from knowing their identities—they can't afford to let him get out, not now, not when they're so close. "You know us, hermano!"

He should at least know her. He had taken to hanging out at their house with Jaime so much that she had started calling him 'brother' as well. Honestly, she had once figured that it wouldn't be too long after the two of them graduated that he would be legally her brother as well.

Clearly, he hasn't slowed down long enough to get a good look, and the shock factor is fortunately enough to make Bart stop buzzing. She's immensely grateful—she hasn't exactly had much practice making a ring construct withstand stress.

"Mila?" He's clearly shocked. "Is—is that you?"

"No, it's a clone impersonating the real Milagro. Dios mio, of course it's me, Bart!"

She's a tad bit worried about what his reaction will be, but once again, the distractibility of speedsters and their ridiculous cheerfulness levels work to her advantage.

Bart starts bouncing up and down and looking like he's going to hug her. "Thisissocrash! Jaime's gonna be so happy and you're a GL now you're all grown up and you can join the Team andletmeoutofheresoIcanhugyou!"

Milagro has to laugh, both at Bart's overwhelming enthusiasm and the expressions of shock, distaste, and discomfort on Ed and Virgil's faces.

"Is he…always like this?" Ed asks.

Virgil nods.

"Great."

Bart starts banging against the wall. "ComeoncomeonMilalemmeout we just had this whole big reunion thing and I have to hug you now it's a universal law or something and it's the thing to do when someone comes back from the dead."

"Wait, wait, you thought I was dead?"

"Well…kinda…Jaime said…"

"Jaime lied," she says, her voice colder than ever before. "I left because I couldn't take what you guys were doing. Don't you get it, Bart? They—you're—as bad as the Reach."

Bart froze in place for a grand total of five seconds, then glared at her. "No. You're wrong. We're helping people."

"Helping what people? The ones who you force to bow down and worship you or the ones who face death penalty for even a minor felony, and years of jail time for a misdemeanor?"

Ed jumps in. "What about the "clean house" policy that emptied out the jails two years ago? What about all those people?"

Virgil steps forward, garnering a first shocked, then angry, look from Bart. "What about the meta kids that get taken away from their parents? Are we 'helping' them? Superheroes are supposed to protect everyone, Bart. That means no exceptions."

"Well, some of them don't deserve protecting!" Bart yells, looking less angry and more on the verge of tears. "What about the guys who hurt Wally? What about the people who killed Gr—"

He's stopped vibrating, and his eyes are suddenly fixed on a point behind the three Outsiders.

"Gr—Grandma Iris?" Bart stutters.

Milagro turns around to see Wally, Luthor, and Iris standing there. Wally's glaring at Luthor, who's ignoring him, and Iris is studying the entire scene with a sad smile on her face, visible without her hood.

"Hello, Bart," she says, softly. "I'm afraid I have a great deal to apologize for."

Wally strides along next to his aunt, cursing every second that he could be running ahead and is instead being forced to walk behind LUTHOR of all people.

"You said you'd explain," Wally says shortly. "So explain."

Iris sighs and pulls down her hood. "Fine. It's another long story, so let's start with the most crucial fact. That isn't the Lex Luthor you know."

Wally shoots her a disbelieving look, then looks more closely at the man walking in front of them, and blinks as pieces connect in his mind. "Clone?"

"Yes," the man says, turning down a corridor ahead of them. "I assure you, however, that I have most of my donor's memories. I happen to be missing several childhood ones he deemed 'insignificant', a few corporate secrets, all his dealings with the organization known as 'the Light', and the last day of his life of course, but that's it."

"Sorry if I don't believe you," Wally growls, narrowing his eyes at the man's back.

"That's fine. You're hardly the first person to tell me that." Luthor (not really Lex) is irritatingly, unflappably calm.

"So, how are you here?" Wally demands.

"Your former teammates assassinated my original donor, and I was activated as a failsafe. The Outsiders were raiding that base for tech and discovered me, whereupon I was promptly kidnapped and brought back here to advise them on what, at the time, was a truly horrifyingly inadequate series of labs."

"Don't make yourself sound so innocent," Iris says coldly. "Wally, what he isn't mentioning is the fact that the original Lex was the one who planned for your disappearance, and the Lords went after him first for it. When we found him, we knew very well that he had some part in the blame, and that sheltering him would get our entire organization killed. He claimed sanctuary in exchange for assisting us with our technology."

"This whole mess is your fault?" Wally hissed. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Don't be. What shouldn't come as a surprise either is that I'm doing my best to fix my mistakes."

Wally shoots a look at Iris, who nods, lips pressed tightly together. "He is."

"Okay, fine. So you're suddenly working with the good guys. On what, exactly?"

"Well, my first project was to save the minds of your cousins."

Iris's already tight and controlled face looks like it's suddenly changed to a stone carving.

"Cousins? You mean…Don and Dawn?" Wally turns to Aunt Iris. "What about them?"

"It's…complicated."

They turn a corner and nearly walk right into three costumed teens and a furious Bart trapped in a glowing green prison.

"—who hurt Wally? Who killed—Gr—Grandma Iris?"

Things sort of go downhill from there.

Ten minutes later, Bart has grudgingly agreed not to bolt. No promises have been made on the not-tearing-Luthor-to-shreds front, but at least he's sitting down.

He still won't go two minutes without wrapping Iris in a hug, though.

Wally can't really blame him.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Bart, honey, I swear I wanted to, but I couldn't. The way things are going—the way the Lords are running the world—it's wrong. I owe it to your Grandpa and all the other old Leaguers to try and fix it."

"Um, as much as I hate to break up this touching family reunion, we've got a problem up there." Static is looking very nervous over by the computer banks.

"It's Blue Beetle. He's on his way over here, and Tye and Sam can't run interference without raising the alarm." Ed looks severely annoyed, and he isn't the only one.

Milagro groans. "My stupid hermano, just like always."

"Hey, quit picking on him! He's just trying to…help…" Bart looks like several pieces have suddenly fallen into place.

"Help you?" Wally starts thinking. "Think you could talk him into helping us?"

The young speedster looks rather unexcited about the prospect. "Maybe…"

"Bart," Iris says softly. "Please?"

Wally decides to turn the tables and use his personal puppy eyes, which have always been his most helpful tool in getting Artemis to feed him more often.

Bart can only take the pressure of the combined pleading for so long. "Okay! Okay! I'll go talk to him!"

"Try to get him in here without letting him know," Virgil warns. "If he tips the Lords, we're done."

"Yeah. That'd be pretty moded. Love ya, Grandma! So glad you're not dead!" The auburn plants a high-speed kiss on the tall woman's unscarred cheek and darts off.

"Wait!" Wally calls after him. "Don't—"

But the aptly named Impulse is already out of hearing range.

Iris sighs. "The Lords are already suspicious. We just have to hope that Bart can talk enough to delay action on those suspicions."

"Great. The hopes and fears of the remnants of the free world are resting on the shoulders of my thirteen-year-old cousin." Perhaps a bit cutting, but he's entitled at this point.

"He's sixteen." Iris is clearly trying to remain unamused and failing.

Wally groans and thunks his head against the wall. "Time travel sucks."

Iris looks thoughtful, and—sad?

"Wally, there's something you need to see."

"Okay, a lab. I've seen a ton of labs, Aunt I, so—wait, what's this?"

Wally and Iris have been walking through the latest in a series of high-tech labs, ending their tour with a large dome made of dense polyurethane. The whole time, Wally has been talking, but Iris has been shut down and not talking to him much, sticking to non-committal noises and sighs. Luthor's somewhere behind them, but hopefully not in earshot. Wally's choosing to ignore the fact of the clone's existence.

Iris blinks away what might be tears, and slides back a panel to reveal a window. "Take a look."

Wally shoots her a confused look, but steps forward and peers inside to what is probably the strangest sight he's ever seen.

A pair of red-headed teenagers are zipping around the inside of the dome at speeds that Wally can barely keep up with. When he finally manages to get a good look, he's stunned.

The two of them are wearing goggles that cover their eyes and funky gloves and outfits that look like experimental tech Wally has seen for—

Virtual reality…

Wally pulls back from the window and blinks. "Are those—"

Iris nods, rubbing her eyes. "Don and Dawn. The explosion, from when I was pregnant. It supercharged their metabolisms—bodies, minds, aging rate. Chronologically, they're less than three years old, but physically, they're fifteen. They're aging so rapidly that they have to be raised in a virtual reality that moves at their pace to prevent mental health problems. The problem is…it's not really working."

Wally puts his eyes back to the window and studies the twins again. They look so happy, safe in their own little bubble of an imagined world. As he watches, trying to keep up, he can almost picture them moving through a day. Eating breakfast, going to school—judging by the way they both sit and fidget for twenty seconds before they're off and running again, never venturing outside a ten-foot bubble but grinning as though they're racing around the globe. "Who built this tech? It's seriously advanced."

Iris lets out a tired sigh. "Luthor. There is a reason he's on our side. And before you ask, yes, this is safe."

"So why isn't it working?"

"Think about it, Wally. It won't be too many more years before they age to death. Their metabolisms are ripping their bodies apart."

"So…do you have a solution?"

"Of…a sort…"

"What your aunt means to say is that our solution depends entirely upon you and the same time travel you detest so much."

"Luthor," Iris hisses, glaring at the man who's come up behind them while they stare at the two teens living in their own world.

He gives a diffident shrug. "I saw no point in mincing words for the next hour. Time is of the essence, correct? We need to keep this moving."

"Well, what is 'this'?" Wally asks, making air quotes. "Y'know, it would be nice if someone just told me what the plan was, instead of throwing a bunch of random information at me."

Iris actually smiles at that, and gestures to Luthor in a sort of "lead-on" fashion. He takes the cue and walks over towards another side of the lab, where a large sheet is draped over an oddly shaped machine.

"If you would be so kind?" Luthor asks, gesturing towards the sheet.

"What, can't do it yourself?" Wally's torn between avid curiosity and fierce disinclination to do anything Luthor says.

"Call it a…flair for the dramatic." The shark's grin is back.

Wally shoots Iris a look, and her replying grimace clearly says, Humor him.

So the redhead lets out a melodramatic sigh, steps forward, and yanks off the concealing tarp to reveal…

"A treadmill?"

Central City Graveyard

March 18th

7:16 EDT

Blue Beetle touches down in a patch of grass just outside the mausoleum and frowns.

No one is here. That's weird.

No life forms detected near the exterior of the building, Jaime Reyes. It is possible that the Impulse, the Static, and the former Kid Flash are inside.

"Can't you tell?" he mutters.

Negative. The building is shielded. Whether by accident or design is unknown.

Fifty feet behind them, a lithe figure perching in a tree carefully pulls back on a tightly strung bow, cursing their sore arms.

Wait…wait…fire!

The arrow, specially enchanted by Zatanna as a contingency plan, hurtles directly at Blue Beetle's head. The tip is blunt, but it packs a wallop, knocking him to the ground. The armor retracts under the spell, revealing his unconscious form.

Artemis lets out a very satisfied smile. "No rust on me," she murmurs, wistfully recalling the last time that line came from her mouth.

She swings down out of the tree and runs over to Jaime Reyes's unconscious form, finding his comm and pulling it out. She'd like to smash it, but she knows that the Lords will know the minute she does, so she settles for tucking it into the pocket of her green pants before slinging Jaime over her shoulder in a fireman's carry and hauling him towards the door to the mausoleum. She's been watching for a while—once she heard Wally was going to be in Central, she had zetaed to Keystone and rode here, intent on at least seeing him again, if not speaking to him. She had seen Static knock out Impulse, and seen Red Arrow lurking before she made sure he was drawn off.

Cheshire hadn't taken her seriously—she knew that. But the younger Crock sister also knows that she's given her sibling no reason to trust her. Even now, she's got a long way to go.

But it will be worth it.

Being back in her old uniform feels more right than anything she's done in a long, long time. Her quiver sits just right between her shoulder blades, her bow is perfectly balanced in her hand and pulled taut, and her bare midriff gives her a feeling of flexibility she could never quite accomplish in her Tigress costume with its Kevlar-covered torso.

Out of reflex, she reaches one hand towards her bare stomach, feeling a surge of painful emotions rise through her. It's been nearly two and a half years, but she swears that she can still feel the ghosts of her unborn children stirring around in there. The sensible, rational part of her mind, the one that always sounds a bit like Wally, chastises her, saying it's all in her imagination. She hadn't even known she was pregnant until she had been caught in an explosion in what she thinks was her second month, only to have far too much blood come out of places it really shouldn't be coming out of.

The pain of the miscarriage had pushed her over a brink she'd had no idea she'd been so close to. Everything after that still feels like a blur of pain and hurt and determination that this can't happen again.

It had been as though she was trying to make an insane bargain with the universe: if she could just make the world as safe as it could possibly be, she would somehow get her children back.

But the universe doesn't make bargains.

And seeing Wally in that hospital bed—seeing his strength, his anger, and his ferocious way of caring—it had pulled her back from the edge.

Tigress, the criminal mask that should never have joined the Team, is gone.

Kid Flash's partner is back.

Central City Graveyard

March 18th

7:20 CDT

Impulse comes to a halt right outside the doors of the mausoleum. He takes a deep breath, tousles his hair to give it the perfectly windswept look, and then grandly shoves open the doors to find…

…Tig—no, Artemis on the top step, Blue Beetle tied up next to her and foot tapping.

"About time. I brought a present."

Bart immediately slams the door.

Chapter Text

Outsiders Base

Central City

March 18th

7:20 EDT

"So, how is a treadmill supposed to fix everything?" Wally asks, walking around it to get a better look.

"It's not just a treadmill," Luthor informs him. "It's a time machine. The working name is the 'cosmic treadmill.'"

"Well, that's…humble. Does it work?"

"We don't know. It hasn't been tested yet." Iris places her hands on the redhead's shoulders and moves him away from the machine. "Sit and let Luthor take a look at the collar."

Wally scowls, but does as she asks. "Why not? And why are you so confident it will, then?"

"Because this machine is designed to work for a speedster." Luthor's followed him, and now he's slipped into lecture mode that Wally recognizes all too well from college. "The only speedsters we've been able to locate for the past two years are Don, Dawn, and Bart. Don and Dawn present their own difficulties, living in their own world as they do, and Bart couldn't be reached before this. The treadmill was developed based on research I've done on the capabilities and limitations of your powers and those of your cousins. We haven't been able to test it very much. It can't exactly be tested, either, not without losing the test subject. Besides, it…"

He hesitates and Iris shoots him a glare. "It what?"

"It isn't finished yet. I still require more parts before completion."

Iris's lips thin. "We're trying to get them for you. It isn't exactly easy to smuggle high-tech equipment across continents, you know."

The tall woman's comm goes off and she slaps a hand onto it, clearly annoyed. "What?"

There's silence for another moment, and then "What?"

Wally and Luthor both look at her in surprise, but she ignores them, listening intently.

"Damn. In that case, evac—wait, what was she wearing?"

Another moment as someone babbles at her. "You're sure?"

From then on, the conversation becomes impossible to follow, and Wally and Luthor are left with no recourse except staring blankly at Iris in hopes of some sort of explanation.

"No, we can't let her—"

"I don't care if she's insisting."

"Wait, he's what?"

"…Fine. But I want her blindfolded and her weapons confiscated. Make sure to search her."

"Yes, I understand, but I'm in charge here."

"She what?"

"Tell her I'll ask. And Mila, please try to contain the prisoner this time."

"…I do know. But—she said what?"

"…I'll tell him."

Iris sighs and takes her hand off the comm, bringing it up to rub the top of her nose.

"What was that?" Wally asks.

The suddenly very worn-looking resistance leader makes eye contact with her nephew. "Artemis is here."

"What? Tigress? Then why haven't we evacuated the building yet?" Luthor snaps.

"Not Tigress. Artemis," Iris emphasizes. "She's wearing her old costume and she brought in Blue Beetle. Tied up and knocked out."

"It's a trap. A trick. There is no other option." Luthor's voice is cold and flat.

"Except Red Arrow has been patrolling the surrounding area, and Milagro says that he confirms no one else is there. Not even the Martian. Cheshire also provided some input, and she says that Artemis contacted her yesterday, looking for us, right after Wally came back."

The speedster they spoke of was currently not in any shape to provide input, being rather concerned with one fact that chased itself around his brain with startling immediacy.

Artemis is here.

Artemis is good.

Artemis is here.

"I have to go talk to her."

There are objections, of course. Quite a few of them. Even Roy shows up halfway through (Hi, Roy! Oh wait, that's not your name anymore?) to chew him out about what a stupid idea it would be. This gets derailed somewhat when Wally gets on his case about Cheshire and demands baby pictures, but Iris manages to drag the conversation back on track.

"Wally, you cannot go see Artemis. This whole thing is probably a trap already, the last thing we want is for her to be in range."

"If she's here, then she already knew I was here. If she's working with the others, then they know too, and they'd have already sent someone to extract me before blowing the place to bits."

"That's probably what she's here to do," Red Arrow snaps out.

"By 'extract', I mean send Miss M in to phase shift me out, or something else. Look, even if she was here to do that, there's a ton of guards, and even I don't know how to get in here." Teleporting someone in certainly ensures a place will be secure.

"There's a reason for that," Red Arrow replies coldly. "Even you can't possibly be so reckless as to—"

"As to want to talk to my girlfriend again?" Wally snaps. "Watch who's talking! How's Cheshire doing these days?"

Will gets even scowlier, and his grip on his bow gets tighter. "That's different."

"Not by much!" Wally's really frustrated now. "I know what they've done. I know what she's done. But I know Artemis. And I know my Team. If they knew you were here? You'd know. And you probably wouldn't be." Despite himself, the former partner (not sidekick) snickers. "We're really bad at stealth.

"This isn't a joke!" Red Arrow still likes scolding him, apparently.

"I know!" Wally yells back. Frustration's evident in very line of his body. "But it isn't a trap, either!"

He meets his aunt's stern gaze with a pleading one. "I know it's not. Just let me talk to her. Please."

For a moment, he can almost see his aunt waver—

And then a hard mask snaps down. That is most definitely not the Aunt Iris he knows.

This is a leader of the Resistance.

"I can't let you do that, Wally."

Wally lets a once-unfamiliar expression run across his face. He used to never even consider it, but, well…he's been doing a lot of scowling in the past couple of days.

"Fine." Blackmail time. "Then the collar isn't coming off."

"What?" Both of them stare at him in shock. Luthor has long since thrown up his hands in exasperation and gone back to his work, no doubt believing that Iris could handle him. This outburst is apparently enough to draw his attention, however.

"You heard me. Either I get to go see Artemis and you take the collar off afterwards, or it doesn't come off." And there go your plans.

Wally, contrary to what most uninformed people (and even people who should really know better) believe, is not stupid. He's put together all the pieces he needs to.

Time travel that requires speedsters. Time travel that's supposed to fix everything. Don and Dawn are unstable, Bart's…already got a whacked out timestream, can't afford to have him mess with it any more…even if they track down Uncle Barry, they can't send him back without causing a major paradox and possibly destroying reality. I'm the only viable option, and they know it. They need me to cooperate.

I could always knock you out and forcibly remove the collar," Luthor points out.

Wally moves into a defensive position at a speed that would be impressive for a normal person, but still feels achingly slow. "Go ahead and try it."

"Enough."

The single word, delivered in her perfected, chilling, "don't even think of talking back to me" tone stops them all in their tracks. Iris is done arguing. She's seen that look on her nephew's face before. The first time was after he blew himself up trying to recreate super-speed.

And succeeded.

Just like he succeeded in talking Barry into joining him in the field.

So Iris knows that if Wally's got that look on, they've got no chance of stopping him.

All they can try to do is contain the situation.

"Will, you're responsible for him."

She ignores both the archer's shocked outburst and Wally's silent cheer in favor of strategizing. Mila's assigned to guard Jaime and keep an eye on Bart (She's still unsure if that's the best option, but Blue Beetle's the bigger threat. Until Tye and Asami get back to base from their patrol, the Green Lantern is the one best equipped to deal with him.). That means that Virgil and Ed are keeping an eye on Artemis, who's supposed to be restrained. If Red Arrow keeps Wally in his sights, they should manage to at least ensure her easily-distracted nephew won't wander too far off course.

"Take him up to see Artemis. Don't take hostile action unless deliberately provoked. I don't want you tearing up the compound."

For a moment, as angry masked eyes meet her own, she's worried he's going to argue, but he nods. "I'm going to need help."

"If you want Cheshire, you've got her," Iris replies wryly. "Family ties might help smooth things over."

Will actually grins as he follows Wally out.

"Luthor, I want an exact list of all the parts you'll need and their likely location. And I want it yesterday."

Something about the look in her eyes apparently changes his mind about arguing, because he just nods and pulls up a tablet.

Iris casts one last look at the dome. She's managed to get messages to the twins before, and hear back, but she's never held an actual conversation with her own children. How can she, when what sounds like a normal conversation to other people is just sentences coming hours, if not days apart at the speeds they move at?

We're going to change that, she reminds herself. We're going to fix this.

They have to. They have to make the world a better place.

Milagro's nervous.

She's been nervous ever since Cheshire knocked on her door this morning, true, but this is different. This is watching a speedster vibrate in place. This is rubbing her ring to reassure herself that this isn't a dream.

This is looking at her brother in person for the first time in two and a half years.

So being nervous is understandable, right? Because he's evil, he's done bad things for three years…more, if you count that time he was under control of the Reach…

But…Jaime's still her brother. She cares about him.

Except she doesn't know him. Not anymore.

"Bart?"

"Huh?"

"What do you think he's going to do?" She tries to keep the quaver out of her voice. She's fifteen, practically a grown-up. She's a Green Lantern. She can do this.

Except her voice still wobbles. Dammit.

"When he wakes up?" Bart actually stills, his restless energy draining away. "I dunno. I mean—he should stop, right? If I tell him what we're doing is wrong, that we don't have to, 'cause Wally's alive and you're alive and Grandma's alive, then he'll stop, right?"

"What if he won't?"

And there it is, out in the open. Her biggest fear.

That Jaime actually likes what he's doing. Not that he's just following orders. Not that he's trying in some misguided way to do the right thing. Not even that he thinks it's just, or good, or whatever porquería they've been telling him.

The thing that truly terrifies her to imagine is that he knows how horrible everything he's doing is, and does it anyway because he likes it.

The Jaime she knows would never do anything like that.

But…the Jaime she knows hasn't been around for a while.

Mila doesn't even realize that Bart's holding her until she feels his arms buzzing. It's something she remembers from when he hung out at their house—he got excited, or scared, or nervous, and he started vibrating.

Looks like he never kicked the habit.

But she doesn't mind. Until the friction starts to get painful.

"Ow. Bart, can you stop? Please?"

"Oh. Sorry." He's off her in a second, going back to warily circling.

There's tense silence for another minute, before Mila asks again. "Why did he do it?"

"Do what?"

"You know. Everything. Join the Lords." She grips her ring a little tighter. "Hurt people. And why did you do it?"

"Do…oh." He actually stops and starts scuffling his feet instead. "I thought—well, I thought that the Reach would never have started to take over if the League had been stronger. And I thought that if people were willing to make themselves slaves, then they couldn't take care of themselves." He swallows, hard. "I thought that because of stuff Jaime said. So…I guess he thought that was the problem."

That…makes a disturbing amount of sense to Milagro. She remembers how much her brother hates the Reach and what they did not just to him, but to the world. If he thought that it was his fault—and that there was a way to fix it—

Well, she knows he would have done a lot more.

"Gracias. For explaining."

"Dee nayda," Bart replies.

And it's a measure of how distracted the teen is that she doesn't correct his atrocious pronunciation.

So Bart returns to pacing and Mila returns to rubbing her ring, both of them trying to get their minds off of what will happen when the teen in front of them wakes up.

Artemis can't see anything.

Of course, that hardly means she's blind. Honestly, she had been trained to be a Shadow. They worked in the dark. They practically lived in it, sometimes.

So she can't see, but she can hear.

Blue Beetle isn't here anymore. That's smart; separate the enemies so they can't collaborate. All her weapons are gone, even the knives hidden places people don't usually look.

Or rather, the places men don't usually look. Cheeky teenage girls with the ability to scan her body with an alien tool are a completely different matter.

So. Knives gone, bow gone, two guards from the sounds of it. Empty room—it echoes too much for there to be furniture.

She's gotten their attention and made a request. Now all she can do is wait.

…And try not to tear her hair out. She has to tell them about the League. They have to know where they are!

But just blurting out that information is going to make them think trap. She can't afford that.

There're a few quiet mutters from the guards, too soft to make out the words, but she recognizes Virgil's tone.

In all honesty, his involvement had been…unexpected. She had a feeling he was hiding something, but she had never imagined it would be something this big.

Which is really to his advantage. If she, a person raised to understand and expect treachery and deception, had no idea what he was doing…he has a chance of pulling this off.

Then again, she hadn't been trained by the Dark Knight.

"Artemis?"

That one voice immediately dispels her casual air and she sits bolt upright. "Wally!"

There's a quick, muttered argument with someone that she's pretty sure is Roy before a familiar pair of hands tug off the blindfold, leaving her looking into warm green eyes.

"Hey, beau—mmff!"

She repeats her actions from their first encounter and pulls him into a kiss.

Just like the last time, it's her way of reassuring herself that Wally's really here, alive and warm and here. That he's just like he always was, a little too warm and with chapped lips that taste like chips and those weird protein bars.

This time, unlike the last, he doesn't yank back. Just deepens the kiss.

God, she's missed him.

"Well, sis, I hate to interrupt this tender moment, but we're sort of on a schedule here."

That drawl is all too familiar, and Artemis jerks her head up to see her sister, dressed in her costume, lounging against the wall.

"Jade." The word escapes her like a gasp.

"Artemis." The cat mask dips forward.

Artemis meets her estranged sister's gaze through the red lenses squarely. "Chị, em xin lỗi."

"Thật không?" The dubious tone is clear.

"Vâng. Tôi-bạn đã đúng.Vềtất cả mọi thứ." Artemis's gaze shifts, and she spots a very pertinent detail. "Another one?"

"Oh, right! You haven't been on our Christmas card list." Jade's tone is mocking, but there's an element in her gaze that coveys a message to Artemis very clearly.

I forgive you.

The archer's relief at that statement is so palpable that she almost misses the next words.

"Paul, this is your aunt Artemis. Don't listen to any of her stories. I am not nice."

"Oh, you so are," Artemis jokes, rising to her feet and holding out one finger to the tiny baby who gazes at her with wide, solemn blue eyes. "Hello there, Paul."

"Gah."

"We think that means 'hello,'" Jade admits, cradling her son. If anyone mentions her tender smile later, she will deny it. Violently.

While the two Nguyen girls coo over the baby (hardly a likely scenario in anyone's mind) their respective redheads trade bemused glances.

"I never knew Jade could be so…nice," Wally admits in a mutter. "I mean, she lives with you."

Will stiffens and reaches for an arrow, pulling it out and fiddling with the head. Wally swallows hard as he recognizes the head, which is of a rather explosive variety.

"Then again, looks can be deceiving."

He glances past the older archer's shoulder to see Virgil and Ed staring at the scene with wide eyes.

"Yes, those are two deadly assassins cooing over a baby," Wally informs them dryly. "Get used to it."

"I'd rather not," Ed mutters.

He shuts up as both of the redheads immediately direct scathing glares in his direction.

After the Crock sisters wrap up their conversation (which, from the bits Wally manages to catch, covers anything and everything from knives to diaper rash to the abomination that is Roy's dislike of strawberries) Artemis comes back over to Wally's side and kisses him again.

"Whoa, babe!" He laughs and pulls back. "I'm not going anywhere!" Yet, the guilty part of his mind thinks.

She gives a weak smile. "You might have to. Because I have something important to tell you. All of you."

"How important?" Roy's the one who says it, although Virgil and Cheshire's narrowed eyes (the mask was moved to the top of her head at some point in the conversation) say that he's not the only one thinking it.

And from the tone of his voice, whatever she has to say had better be pretty damn good.

"I know where the League is."

Chapter Text

Central City Outsiders Base

March 18th

8:04 CDT

As soon as Jaime wakes up, his first thought is Ow, what hit me?

Or it would be if he could muster anything other than an incoherent groan at the splitting pain in the back of his skull.

"You'reawake!"

A highly-energized auburn-haired speedster plows into him, eliciting another loud groan.

"Bart, carino, ease up," he mumbles. Events click into place in his head. "Bart?"

"Yeah, her-man-oh! You're awake, I'm here, everything's crash!" The brunet has his familiar cheeky grin plastered across his face, but even to Jaime's blurry mind, it looks slightly forced.

"What's happening?" Jaime slowly sits up rubbing the back of his head. All his memories seem blurry and mixed up, like he's just come out of a crazy dream, but the last clear thing…

"Weren't you going to Central? With your uncle?"

Bart actually freezes in place for a grand total of half a second before looking at him with worry in his eyes. "Jaime—that was over two years ago. Don't you remember?"

Jaime winced and put a hand to his head. "Sort of…it's all kinda fuzzy…"

Your memory facilities are faulty, Jaime Reyes.

"Yeah, I know!"

Initiating scan for errors…

Error detected. Correcting error.

"What err—Maldito!" Jaime doesn't usually swear, but he feels that the painful jolt in his head (stupid bug) more than justifies the curse. "Ow…"

Two years' worth of pertinent memories sort themselves out in his head at top speed, barely flashing through the forefront of his mind, but conveying so much in an instant that he's almost sure his brain's going to burst.

"Dios mio." He's able to do or say little else once the influx has slowed. "What have we done?"

So many of these memories he would swear were nothing but nightmares…if they weren't so vivid. Subjugating the populace, imprisoning anyone too outspoken, driving away his sister and his best friend…did the Reach put him on mode again when he wasn't looking or something? He did those things, he remembers doing them, but he can't figure out why. What the demonios has been happening? Kahji—why did I—we—do those things?

Running diagnostics.

Jaime shakes his head and snaps back into the present, only to see that Bart's gone from his side and talking in low murmurs to someone in the corner.

"—not faking it, I swear!"

"Bart, I want to believe it as much as you do, but we can't—"

That voice. Jaime Reyes knows that voice. It's changed, sure, but—

"Mila?"

The arguing goes silent. Jaime winces as he sits up, trying to focus on the corner. "Mila, is that you?"

There's what sounds like a squeak before a pair of red-and-white arms shove a green-garbed teenage girl out into the dim light.

Jaime's head is still spinning, but somehow, he can clearly recall chasing his sister through the desert.

"You don't get to call me that! Not anymore!"

He cringes away from the memory, unsure of how to start the conversation. The older Reyes sibling settles for staring at his younger sister, waiting to see if she'll respond.

She's taller.

That's the first thing his mind seizes on. She's at least six inches taller than the last time he saw her.

That was…two and a half years ago…

She's taller, and her skin is paler, like it doesn't see the sun as often. But her face is stronger, more mature, and…tired. Even under her nervous expression, he can see the weariness he knows all too well.

For some bizarre reason, her outfit is the last thing his tired mind notices, but when he finally does, he has to hold back a very childish yelp. At first, he wonders why she's wearing B'arr Z'oohm's armor, until his mind clinches on the Green Lantern symbol on her chest and the glowing green ring on her finger.

The two Reyes siblings stare at each other as Bart shuffles awkwardly in the corner.

"Oye." Milagro, ever the more fearless one, opens the conversation.

"Oye."

There's a pause.

"Asi que...Linterna Verde?"

"Si."

Another silence.

"Me gusta al traje."

"En serio?"

"Si."

"Lo hice... como tu armadura. Al igual que Escarabajo Azul."

Jaime's stunned, but a quick study of her armor confirms that yeah, it does look a lot like the Blue Beetle armor.

And that just opens up a whole 'nother case of guilt.

"Lo siento mucho."

The two of them blurt out their apology at the same time, and the wall goes down.

Jaime's not exactly sure how it happens, but in the next three seconds, he and Milagro are locked in a hug and crying.

It's a few minutes before they talk again, and then it's only because Kajhi chooses that moment to speak up.

Jaime Reyes. I have finished running diagnostic scans and detected the beginning of the mental inconsistencies.

"You have? Well, what is it?"

"What's what?"

Jaime pulls away and rubs his head. "Milagro, I…I'm so siento. I remember everything I did, and I hate it, I just…I just don't remember why. Just that one day I woke up and started going along with what I was told. Kahji doesn't know either, so he's running a scan."

"Kahji?"

"Bug's got a name, her-man-oh."

After three and a half years, Jaime is used to Bart appearing out of nowhere at high speeds, but apparently Milagro isn't, since she jumps in surprise, spins, and socks him in the stomach.

"Ow! Dude! So not crash."

Milagro looks distinctly embarrassed. "Sorry, I thought you were…Ed. He does that."

"Seriously?"

"Hey, you have an alien bug with a name on your spine and I have a sentient ring and a friend who teleports to play pranks on people."

"…Our lives are weird."

"Ni que lo digas."

"What did the bug say?" Bart asks, jumping up and down.

"Here, I'll let him talk." Jaime starts to armor up, but a hand on his arm stops him. Milagro looks more worried than he's seen before.

"Jaime, are you sure…well…that the scarab is really…"

"That it's really on my side?" Jaime nodded. "Kahji and I are partners. We decided that after the Reach. Whatever's going on, it's not because of him." His brow furrows. "I told you this already, way back after I got off-mode. What's bugging you?"

She glares at him, probably partly because of the pun, then sighs and rubs her left hand. "My ring doesn't like Reach stuff and it wants to blast your scarab."

"Seriously?"

"Oh yeah." Bart's returned, staying well out of Milagro's reach this time. "It was giving us an earful before you woke up. 'Technology of a hostile party! Termination recommended!' Mila had to put the thing on mode before it would shut up."

The Green Lantern Corps is a known enemy of the Reach. Possible malicious intent on the part of the bearer. Recommended attack—

"We are not attacking my sister," Jaime hisses at the scarab.

"It's just muted. You got lucky, hermano. You just look crazy talking to yourself. I had this thing blurting out every time someone tried to lie around me for six months before I figured out how to shut it off."

Jaime snorts. "I wouldn't call that 'lucky.' Mila, I'll be fine. It just saves time to have Kahji talk directly to you. I promise, I'm not going anywhere. Bueno?"

Milagro tightens her lips and nods. "Do it."

Jaime takes a deep breath and lets the armor spread over his head and neck. There's a small speaker set in the shoulder—why, he has no idea—and it's what Kahji uses whenever he needs to communicate. Jaime will freely admit that it's more preferable than having the alien symbiote take over his mouth.

Jaime tries to listen to the explanation, but the scarab is too fond of using technical terms.

"Whoa, whoa! Use English, ese."

"I am communicating in the earth tongue referred to as 'English.'"

Jaime sighs as his sister and boyfriend laugh. "Just…simplify the explanation."

The scarab does, and as the full story of the reasons behind Jaime's actions comes out, the laughter immediately dies from the faces of the other two, only to be replaced by a deep fury.

Oh, cagada…

Central City Outsiders Base

March 18th

8:15 CDT

"I know where the League is."

Artemis's declaration has thrown the entire base into a massive upheaval as everyone scrambles to find anyone who could possibly help and get them in one room long enough to plan. Milagro, Bart, and Jaime are the only ones absent.

"First off, they're all alive." Artemis looks a bit uncomfortable to be standing up in front of a room full of people who look like they would rather lock her away than listen to any information she could share, but Wally thinks she's handling herself beautifully. He gives her hand a little squeeze, to show her that he's totally behind her, and she takes a deep breath and goes on.

"None of them were killed. It was suggested, but overruled, way back when we were making plans."

"Then why haven't we heard anything before?" Aunt Iris nearly broke down in tears when she heard that Barry was alive, but she's pulled herself together with terrifying speed.

"Because M'gann's keeping most of the League in a sort of psychic coma. None of them remember who they are or what they've lost. It didn't work on a few of them. Plastic Man, Mahunter, Captain Atom—they're all in cells in the basement. Tornado's processor was wiped and he serves on the Beta watchtower during emergencies. But the rest just don't remember who they are or what happened to them. Most of the time."

"What do you mean, most of the time?" Roy's eyes are narrowed as he cleans his arm, but Wally hopes it's in thought, not anger.

"There have been incidents." Artemis doesn't elaborate. "So Zatanna and Red Robin have been working on another solution. They're trying to recreate Starro-tech."

Wally actually flinches, and he can see Will and Jade doing the same. That night, when they had turned against the League and fought to get their mentors back, had been awful. If the T—Lords—are trying to recreate that, to get the League back on their side…

This is bad. Very, very, bad.

"What is…Star-o-tek?" Asami's mask is off, revealing a brow furrowed in thought.

Tye nods, pulling his headband out of his face. "I think we'd all like to know that."

"Oh, right…none of you were in the loop five years ago..." Wally reaches this realization with a groan.

"Eight years ago." Artemis corrects him.

The speedster pauses, blinks, and smacks himself in the head. "Time travel sucks."

"Wally!" Iris scolds.

"Sorry, but it's true. Okay, short version: the Light used bits of this giant Atlantian sea star and added a bunch of high-tech bits so that it…er…basically, it was absorbed through skin contact and turned anyone who had it into the Light's personal puppets."

"Don't forget the sorcery." Jade's voice carries her famous casual tone, but her frown is clearly visible when she pushes up her mask.

"Sorcery doesn't exist," Wally mumbles. Everyone ignores him.

"How did you fix it?" Ed asks.

"And why didn't I know about this?" Virgil adds.

Artemis shrugs. "It was top secret. The only people who knew were the founding members and Red Robin, and he discovered it on his own. As for how we fixed them, we got help from Queen Mera and Doctors Roquette, Spence, and Vulko. They made a cure-tech that acted as a counteragent and vaccine. It's why the Lords haven't been able to recreate it yet. The vaccine's blocked all of their attempts so far."

"So if we get in there, we need to head for the labs and wreck them thoroughly," Iris remarked. Luthor opened his mouth to say something, but the scar-framed glare she shot shut him up. "We are not taking anything out of there, understood?"

"Wait, wait, why would we be breaking into Arkham? Isn't the whole plan to send me back so we won't need to worry about Arkham?" Wally is confused, which is nothing new at this point.

"Well," Luthor clears his throat. "We are dealing with several interesting variables here—"

"The point, Luthor," Iris says with heavy annoyance.

A flash of irritation shows on his face before it slips back under a smooth mask. "The final stages of the machine, not to mention the use of it, will cause a massive energy surge that will bring down the Lords on all of our heads. Unless a large enough distraction occurs to draw them off. An assault on Arkham should do just nicely."

Wally sees red for a moment, and has to force himself to calm down. "So you expect everyone to just play bait on a suicide mission while you put this thing together?"

"Quite the contrary. While others here may have complete confidence in your abilities…" Don't cuss him out, Aunt Iris is listening. "…I am a scientist and a businessman. I know better than to put all my confidence in one plan. If anything goes wrong, we will be forced to continue living in this version of the world. We'll simply have to do our best to prepare for any other eventualities. So while I shall be devoting my full attention to completing the cosmic treadmill—once I have the necessary parts, that is—" Insert pointed glance here. "The plan still calls for you to release the Justice League and destroy the labs at Arkham."

"So how are we going to get the parts?" Roy asks. "It's not like we have Zeta tubes. We can't get to the other side of the world and get what you need."

"But we do have—"

The door bursts open, cutting off Luthor's sentence, and a livid teenage girl encased in a green glow shoots into the room.

"YOU!" she screams at Artemis's direction. "YOU—"

The following rush of Spanish is too garbled with fury for Wally to understand, but from the inflection, he has a feeling he'd really rather not know. So for lack of any other options, he stares in confusion at Milagro and waits for her to calm down.

Until she punches Artemis in the nose. Then he reacts.

Bart gets there first (of course) and pins the near-hysterical girl's arms behind her back. "Mila! MilaMilaMilathisisnotcrashthisissonotcrashyouneedtocalmdown."

"WHY DO YOU CARE? YOU KNOW WHAT THAT PERRA DID!"

"What did you just call me?" Artemis demands.

By this point, everyone is yelling, and the noise in the room is reaching a nearly unbearable level.

"ENOUGH!" Iris nearly has to scream to make herself heard, but her tone shuts down all of the noise in the room.

And of course, that moment of quiet is right when Blue Beetle runs through the open door.

"You." A single finger points at him and he freezes in place. "Sit. Now."

He sits.

Iris takes a deep breath as Wally suddenly feels like a kid getting caught in the cookie jar again. (It happened a lot. He will swear in front of a court that his aunt is half-Martian or something.) "What, exactly is going on here?"

Tears of rage are streaming down Milagro's face as she bursts out, "He was on mode! He was on mode this whole time, and he didn't even know it!"

A chorus of startled "What?"s rise up from the various people assembled, including Artemis.

All the emotion seems to run out of Milagro's face. "You didn't—you didn't—"

"Mila, honey, what is it?" Jade comes over, looking worried, and Wally is genuinely surprised. He knows that Jade cares about some people—her daughter, her sister, her son, R—Will—but he didn't know Milagro was included in that.

Milagro just shakes her head and doesn't make eye contact with anyone. Bart's grip releases just in time for Jade to pull her into a hug.

"I'm sorry," Jaime speaks up. "The scarab found an error in my memories, and, well, apparently Zatanna and Miss Martian got into my head one day, and um…messed around. It wasn't fully on-mode, but…I didn't care about what I was doing. They screwed with Kahji's programming, too, so he didn't know either, until you hit us with an arrow and he sorta rebooted. Thanks for that, by the way."

"You're—you're welcome." Artemis looks vaguely sick, but that could be from holding her bleeding nose. "Jaime, I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

"Really?" Luthor's tone is light, as though entirely unconcerned with the situation. "I find that interesting. Weren't you right in the middle of the information hub?"

Artemis slips her free hand into Wally's. "Nightwing kept a lot of secrets. From everyone. I was no exception."

"Then that opens up the possibility that one of you could be lying." Wally wants to punch him for the gleam in his eye.

"I can check Artemis," Milagro says quietly. "I'm okay, Jade. You can let me go now."

The older Nguyen girl releases her self-appointed charge, who walks over to the somewhat battered-looking archer. Her ring lights up and envelops Artemis in a green beam.

"Ring, activate lie detector."

"Activated."

"Artemis, do or did you have any knowledge of any tampering done to Jaime Reyes or the Reach scarab known as Kahji Da?"

"It was discussed at a meeting, but I was completely unaware they had actually executed any such plan." Artemis's tone is level, and the light from the ring never falters.

Milagro exhales and lets the beam die. "She's telling the truth." The girl gives Artemis a sheepish smile. "Sorry about your nose."

"Oh, it's fine. I've had worse." Artemis waves it off.

"Here, let me fix it." Milagro lets the light wash over Artemis's face, and one loud crack and Vietnamese swear later, the appendage looks good as new.

"Thanks…I think."

"That doesn't rule out the possibility that Blue could be lying." Roy definitely looks angry now, especially with the way he's waving his metal arm around. "And the ring doesn't work on him, does it."

"I'm not lying, I swear!"

"And how do we know that?"

"Because I—"

"Stop."

For the first time since the untimely interruption, Tye comes out of his corner, looking even more murderous than usual. The Apache teen glares at Blue Beetle, stalking over to plant his hands on the arms of the chair Iris ordered the former hero into.

"So you say you're really telling the truth? Fine. Take off that armor and let me see for myself."

"Tye, I—"

"Do it."

Jaime draws in a deep breath and lets the plates retract from his head, revealing a face that's skinnier and paler than the last time Tye saw it.

The eyes are still the same, though, and it's there he looks for his answers.

"He's not lying." With that curt statement, Tye spins around and stalks back over to Asami. She places a gentle hand on his arm, offering comfort.

Jaime lets out a sigh of relief. "Tye, hermano, I—"

"Save it." But his expression softens minutely. "But it's good to have you back."

Iris lets out a sigh of her own. "Now that's all sorted out…Luthor have a plan for how we're going to get the parts?"

"Yes, I do." He shuffles a stack of papers in front of him before launching into an explanation. "We have a few current dilemmas. The first is, of course, the fact that we have to move our plans onto an accelerated timetable now that Wally is back. Sooner or later, the Lords are going to know something has happened and will be bringing a great deal of chaos down on our heads. The second problem is that the inhibitor collar." He nods at Wally. "I was able to complete my scans, despite your resistance, and while the removal of the collar should be fairly simple, it will cause an energy surge that could bring us some…unwanted attention. The third is, or course, the parts, and their various locations around the world, and the fourth is the fact that we will have to move a large number of operatives into the area around Arkham somehow undetected."

Wally scowled at him. "You're the genius. What's the plan?"

Five Miles Outside Gotham City

March 18th

19:10 EDT

Wally takes a deep breath in from his position in the shadows, willing it not to shake with nerves and trepidation. It becomes exponentially harder when he starts thinking about the fact that we are breaking into Arkham we are breaking into freaking ARKHAM to buy time for flipping LUTHOR…

So the easiest solution is to not think about it.

Instead, he forces himself to relax, which is almost as hard, given the red suit he's wearing.

After years of watching Uncle Barry run into battle, even before he knew who was under the lightning bolt hood, the man in the mask of the Flash has always been his idol. It's more than a bit terrifying to wrap his head around the fact that he now is his idol. The suit feels a bit loose and itchy and wrong. He can't be doing this, he's too young, too stupid, too slow.

But then he feels the speed thrumming through his body and remembers the sad and firm smile on Iris's face as she handed him the suit, and the grin on Bart's under the mask of Kid Flash, and the microfiber composition feels just right.

The collar came off over ten hours ago and he still can't get over the bubbly, hot, tingly feeling of legs ready to runrunrun and a heart about to burst from excitement.

But Wally can't run right now. He has to wait and bide his time until Bart's finished the last shift of running and drawn the Lords off to the other side of the world.

Wally wanted to be the one on the last slot, even if it was the riskiest. Neither he nor Bart is at their best after a day of running all over the world, first grabbing parts from various facilities, and then just using themselves as bait to keep the Lords away from the Central City labs and the other teams moving into position.

It had been long and exhausting and nerve-wracking, and even so, he would do it a thousand times over again just to feel as alive as he does right now for just a little longer, and just to keep Bart, whom his instincts scream is too young too young in danger, out of this. (Part of him wonders if this is how Barry felt the first time he saw him in the Kid Flash costume.)

But as much as it hurts to admit, Bart is just faster than he is, even if the older speedster can run longer. The new Kid Flash can get to the Sahara Desert (the final checkpoint), ditch the Lords once he gets the signal, and be back at Gotham to help with the assault on Arkham faster than Wally could ever hope to do himself.

But he can't stop worrying. Despite frequent stops for calorie breaks, Bart has been running around the world ever since before Wally got his collar off, in a last-ditch attempt to buy enough time and grab everything they need.

A warm hand, fingers callused from years of using a bow, slips into his own.

"Hey," Artemis says softly. "You doing okay?"

Wally musters up his best grin for her. "Sure! Doing great!"

The look she gives him reminds him uncomfortably of the ones Barry used to give him when he tried to pretend he wasn't scared.

"It's okay, Wall-man," she whispers. "I'm scared too."

He gives her hand a comforting squeeze, trying to think of the right thing to say. "It'll be fine, babe. You know we've got a plan."

"Yeah." Her laugh is short and hoarse. "You remember what Di—Robin used to say about those?"

"Plan for up until the first explosion. After that, you improvise." Wally grins at the memory. "Strange how we usually had to improvise sooner instead of later."

"As I recall, it was usually your fault."

"Hey! That is totally not true."

Artemis's look is blatantly unimpressed.

"Okay, maybe some of the time. Like, 12% of the time."

"12%?" She laughs at that. "I'm pretty sure it was a lot more than that."

Wally chuckles along with the archer until the beeping of his watch disrupts their amusement. He hits the timer and pulls out one of his special 4000 calorie bars and downs it. Luthor had given him strict instructions in preparation for what might happen this evening.

"Eat one of these every hour. According to records, your body suffered a massive energy drain after your jump through time. You'll be doing a lot of running today, so you need to keep your body stoked up."

Artemis's breath catches in her throat, and Wally looks over as he finishes off the bar.

"Artemis." And that gets her attention, because he never calls her 'Artemis', it's always 'Arty' or 'babe' or some other flirty name that she'd punch anyone else for calling her. 'Artemis' is for when he's totally serious. "I promise. Everything's going to work out."

"You don't know that." Her tone is bitter and tired. "It's not Arkham I'm worried about, Wally. It's about…what comes after." Her eyes start to feel suspiciously hot, but she will not swipe at them because she's a hero goddammit and she doesn't cry, not when Wally's finally back next to her, and the last time she cried in the field was in the Arctic and…

Artemis doesn't know who moves first, but before she realizes she's caught up in a tight hug with Wally planting kisses in her hair and letting her cry into his spandex-covered chest.

"I don't want to lose you again," she whispers. "I can't."

"Hey, hey. You're not going to. Besides—" he pulls back to grin down at her. "We're only about to break into the most heavily-guarded facility on the planet to bust out the brainwashed Justice League. What could—"

She pulls away and punches him in the shoulder, laughing through the remnants of tears. "Don't say that!"

Wally's comm goes off and he reaches for it so fast he almost whacks himself in the head. "What is it?"

"Hey! Kid Flash, aka Bart Allen, aka former Impulse here! The bosses are moded (huff) smack dab in the middle of the (oof) desert and I'm on my way back. Things crash on your end?"

"Uh, yeah. Yup. Fine. All…crash." Wally has to jump on the urge to take off running, either for Arkham or to his cousin who sounds…really, really tired. "How about you?"

"Well (huff) everything's crash (whoa) except now the fish dudes are chasing me (yipe!) and I emptied my snackage stash so (Dude, one side!) I might crash soon. Bad crash, not good crash. Got any of those bars left?"

"Atlantians?"

"Yeah. Aquaman (huff) musta tipped them, cause they weren't here before. I can mode these guys no problem. Just gimme a couple minutes and I'll be right there to bust Grampa out with you."

"I'll have a bar waiting for you. And I'm pretty sure B's got a bag of Chicken Whizzees with your name on it."

"Seriously?"

"Would I joke about food?"

"Good point. Incoming in five minutes."

"Good luck." Wally cuts the transmission and sends out a message to the rest of the groups in position around Gotham. "Bart's set his ETA in five minutes and most of the Lords are stranded on the other side of the world. It's go time. Good luck, everybody."

He shuts off his comm and takes a deep breath as he pulls his goggles down over his eyes. Turning to Artemis, he grins. "You ready, babe?"

Artemis finishes checking her arrows and slings the quiver over her shoulders. "To break into Arkham? Oh yeah."

Wally scoops her up in a bridal carry and smiles down at her. "Then let's do this."

He takes off so fast that an image hangs behind them in the air for a split second before dissipating.

Chapter Text

Arkham Asylum

March 18th

19:20 EDT

Jason Todd mutters a curse as he stalks around the edge of Arkham Island. It's not quite raining, which, in Gotham during the spring, is a miracle in itself, but it's still cold and damp. And the wind that comes off the harbor isn't helping any.

He doesn't even know why he has to guard the lab or whatever it is the assholes keep on this hell-forsaken lump of rock. Two and a half years later and he still doesn't know what goes on in this place. Apparently, according to the former Golden Boy, it's well situated for a weather and genetics lab.

Whatever. All the Red Hood knows is that Wally and Bart have sided with the Resistance and are back to playing chicken at high speeds, Static, Blue Beetle, and Artemis turned traitor, and the Lords are getting twitchy when it comes to betrayal. While the super-powered types and Nightwing try to chase down the speedsters (who are very good at playing keep-away), he and Batwoman've been sent to Arkham to stand guard while Zatanna, Tim, and Karen Beecher (who's been hauled out of retirement to help them with this project of theirs) mess around in the basement. He hasn't even been allowed inside past the front entrance and courtyard. What the fuck is so important and secret that even he can't get a look?

His comm crackles in his ear. "Nightwing to Red Hood, what's your status?"

"Well, it's forty degrees but feels freezing and buttfuck boring."

"Hood…"

Yeesh, what's got his panties in a twist? That's almost the Batman voice.

"Fine. All quiet out here. No sign of any parties, hostile or otherwise."

"Well, stay alert. We're in the middle of the Sahara. Impulse—in the Kid Flash costume—just took off. They've been leading us on a wild goose chase this whole time."

Uh-oh. The last time he heard 'Wing this angry…

"Mal's monitoring the situation on the Watchtower, and the energy readings track Kid Flash heading straight across the Atlantic. His trajectory indicates that he's heading straight for you. Aquaman tried to intercept with his forces, but was unsuccessful."

Jason sucks in air between his teeth. From watching over the past couple of years, the one thing he does know is that the first rule is "humor Impulse." The kid's still got a healthy sense of morals with naïveté to match, and there's that annoying truth they never mention—he may be young, but he's a speedster, and if there's one thing they know about speedsters, is that they're fucking powerhouses.

"Well, we're screwed." Something that's been niggling him about the whole situation jumps out of his mouth. "Hey, why would they care about this dump, anyway? I mean, sure the Resistance does batshit crazy stuff, but they do batshit crazy stuff for a reason. And they wouldn't make it so obvious that they're going after it unless it's endgame."

There's an ominous pause.

"That's on a need-to-know basis."

"And lemme take a wild guess—I don't need to know." Jason grits his teeth. "Shit, you dick—"

"No names over the comms."

"Who's using names?"

Even though technically, he can't hear the other man's comm shut off, Jason definitely feels as though he's been hung up on.

"Asshole." Jason takes his own comm offline.

I joined up with them against the League because I was so fucking done with all the secrets. If things start going back that way…

Well, I could always see if Donna's up for giving the outlaw lifestyle a shot.

He's snapped out of his musings when the HUD in his helmet starts going crazy, pinpointing a moving target. Shit, is the kid here already?

Except it's too big to be Bart.

It's too big to be one person, either, and wait a second—are those arms mov—?

Wham.

An arrow, thankfully a blunt one, slams into his helmet. The red high-density polymerized titanium protects his head, but the force is still enough to send him reeling backwards.

What the fuck?

There's a whoosh, a red fist in his face, and suddenly he's lying on the ground and a familiar pair of green-clad legs are standing just in his line of sight. "I'm really, really, sorry about this, Jason." Artemis. That's Artemis. Why the fuck would Artemis shoot him?

There's a soft clink as his wrists are cuffed together. Dammit, they're the good ones too, the special kind Dick keeps around to restrain skilled fighters. Luckily, he's got a pick in his gloves—

Which she takes. Damn her.

Well, hey, he still wants answers and they're here, so…

"Why?" he croaks out. "What's so special about a lab, Arty?"

He can't tell if she flinches at the nickname.

"You didn't—" there's a pause. "Of course you didn't. Tell me something, Jay—where did you think all the Leaguers went?"

What. The. Fuck.

"And I'm still really sorry about this—but I can't have you raising the alarm."

Even the helmet can only do so much. He's out like a light in the next ten seconds.

Artemis does feel guilty after kicking Jason in the head. He's been her friend ever since he was a punk kid from the East End pulling pranks on the Team. Not to mention that there've been several nights in the past three years when nothing helped except going out and getting drunk, and he'd always been a willing bar buddy.

But she meant it when she said that she couldn't afford to have him raising the alarm.

"Coming?" Wally's standing over by the gate.

"Don't you need a key for that?" She can't get in—the only ones with full-time access are Nightwing, M'gann, Zatanna, and Tim.

Eerie green light starts to bloom behind her, and Wally glances over her shoulder, a grin breaking out on his face.

"Fear not, babe—the cavalry has arrived."

Green surrounds Milagro in a glowing aura, making her feel as though she's encased in a living suit of armor that responds to her every movement so well that she can barely even tell it's there. She fully expects to be exhausted by the end of the night—she's never really done combat before—but right now, she's out under the stars and flying without having to cart around a bulky power concealer and it's glorious.

"Hey!" Startled out of her bliss, she looks down to see that both Harpers look rather seasick. Jade, of course, appears as calm and unruffled as ever. Arsenal is the one shouting. "Any chance you could cut down on the antics?"

"I'm sorry," she calls down as a blush creeps across her face. After that, Milagro makes sure to restrict herself to smooth flight across the harbor towards the dark shape of Arkham Island.

Just as they're about to land, she sees Wally waving up at her, his cheeky grin visible in the faint light. The grin turns to panic, and he starts shouting something that might be along the lines of look out when a projectile launched from somewhere on the wall slams into her shield, shattering it along with her concentration.

Kahji Da is keeping up a familiar commentary in the back of Jaime's head. Years of practice allow him to tune out the strategies for "effectively" (read: lethally) taking down the guards on the wall.

Looking on as one of them knocks his sister out of the sky with some sort of cannonball, however, makes him seriously consider one or two of the more painful options the scarab's offering.

"Milagro!" he yells, diving to catch her. Kahji adds on a burst of speed from the jets so that he manages to get under his sister and catch her before she hits the water.

"No, no, no!" he hisses as the scarab uses its medical systems to check her vitals. "Cagada!" This was not a part of the plan. Luckily, it only takes a quick scan to confirm that she's undamaged—her aura protected her from the worst of the shot, and she's only temporarily stunned.

Overhead, a glowing golden hand extends from Tye's projection. It's almost seventy feet tall, which is impressive even if half of it is underwater. Sam, decked out in full costume, rides in her customary spot on the monolith's shoulder.

Protruding thirty feet out from the construct, the golden hand manages to get under the three falling figures and catch them just in time.

Quelling a sigh of relief at Sam's shout of, "We got them! You go!" Jaime takes off for the wall as Milagro starts waking up in his arms.

"Dios mio…what hit me?"

Jaime lands on a clear section of the walkway and sets her down. "Don't know. You okay?"

Her eyes harden and her ring glows. "Okay and ready to kick some culo."

Jaime looks around and spots a squadron of guards coming out of the tower at the end of the walkway. "Wanna take care of them?"

"My pleasure." As she shoots off towards the armored soldiers with a feral grin on her face, Jaime can almost feel sorry for the poor souls.

"Hey, Blue! We could use some help down here!"

Jaime looks down to see the Flash and Artemis standing next to the prone form of the Red Hood, waving up at him. Wally points at the door.

"Mind giving us a way in?"

Reaching up to grab his goggles and bring them down over his eyes, Ed can feel a shiver run down his spine. Partly anticipation, partly healthy fear of an asylum you still hear horror stories about, and partly…well…

Static's across the clearing, testing the motion and range of the metal disk Ed had found on a raid and hung onto. It's almost pure iron, from some old factory up in New England, and only about a quarter inch thick. It's incredibly responsive to magnetism, but not too heavy for the meta to manipulate easily.

The heartfelt "Thanks!" and smile he got for the disk when he handed it over earlier today was more than enough compensation for any hassle it had been to haul it around.

"Up for a race?" Ed suggests with a wry grin.

Virgil shakes his head as he guides the board back over. "Is it really going to be a contest? You know I'd totally smoke you."

With a smirk and a parting salute, Ed fizzles out of existence, headed for the island.

"You cheater," Virgil mutters, bending low over the board as it zips out of the tree line and over the water.

Ed knows that he's made a severe error in calculation as soon as he pops out over the harbor. Giddy with the adrenaline and the…something else that he refuses to think about…he forgot to judge how far his jump would have to be. He's twenty feet over the water and falling fast.

He keeps teleporting forward and up—he's teleported through the air before, this isn't that big of a deal—but it gets a bit more complicated when he nearly runs into Blue Beetle shooting upwards and forgets to keep up forward momentum. Much flailing of arms and perhaps a yelp or two ensues.

"Gotcha!"

He feels a slight tingly buzz over his skin as Static grabs onto him and pulls him onto the board. It's only a couple feet wide, so the two metas are pressed in pretty close to each other.

"Gracias," Ed gulps, looking down at the too-dark water. After growing up in the mountains of Argentina, he doesn't really have much of an affinity for water. He can swim—but after escaping an alien ship at the bottom of the ocean, and a near-drowning experience about six months back when a mission went sour—it makes him a little twitchy.

"Y'know, if you wanted a ride you could've just said so," Static jokes, quietly praying that his hands aren't visibly shaking against Ed's too-warm skin. Does teleporting charge him up or something? He's never had the courage to ask.

"You didn't have to catch me. I would have been fine." Ed retreats back into a comfortable defensive mode.

"Do you wanna get off, then?"

"…iman obstinada estupidez."

"Sorry, what was that?"

"…no."

A well-coordinated, thought-out plan of action that covers every angle, factors in every loose element, and ensures that everyone has a place to go takes hours of intensive, cohesive planning with lots of charts, graphs, and memorization.

Fortunately for the inexperienced, those with short attention spans, and frequent victims of Murphy's law, the plan to attack Arkham only has three components:

1. Raise Hell

2. Free the League

3. Don't Die.

The first part is rather easy, since apparently guards and soldiers tend to notice a giant glowing figure standing in the harbor.

Wally supposes that it does stick out…a bit…

Looks like no matter what team he's on, he sucks at stealth.

Within five minutes of touching down on the island and Blue blasting down the doors, the facility resembles a kicked anthill. Guards and soldiers are swarming all over the small group of heroes currently fighting their way through the courtyard to the front doors. Or at least, that seems to be the general idea.

Jade darts around the edge of the circle cleared by the archers, shruiken flashing as she flips and dodges, fending off anyone who dares to come to close to her sister and husband with intent to harm.

Said relations are shooting off arrows at an incredible rate and engaging in impromptu contests over hard-to-hit targets or nocking multiple arrows at once.

"You're slipping," Red Arrow remarks dryly, as Artemis's three-at-once trick shot goes a bit wide of the mark. The explosive arrows cause a large distraction, but little damage.

"You try not using a bow for three years. See how well you do then!" The reply is peevish, and all too reminiscent of her early days on the Team and the glares and whispers of 'traitor' Harper reserved just for her.

"Will you two stop squabbling and—unh—actually cover our backs here?" El Dorado's teleporting all around the courtyard, taking down-for-the-count guards with him and dropping them into the hand of Longshadow's projection or onto Green Lantern's platforms for quick disposal.

Artemis nocks an arrow and tracks it around the courtyard, searching for the most dangerous target, only to spot movement out of the corner of her eye as two guards tag-team her sister while a third moves in on Red Arrow.

The third consequently takes an arrow to the knee and goes down screaming while a sonic blast knocks the other two away from Jade. Will acknowledges her shot with a grudging nod of thanks while using up one of his precious foam arrows to contain a squad moving in on Samurai, Arsenal, and Static.

Blue Beetle immediately goes back to working with Wally. While the speedster has some trouble anticipating the moves of anyone but Artemis, Jaime's worked with Bart for years. He knows how speedsters move. It's not hard to coordinate with the newly-christened Flash and work their way further into the compound.

That's their job, now that the fight has settled in—the archers coordinate to hit multiple targets, Jade watches their backs, Sam and Roy work with Virgil to take down the bulk of the guards, and Ed hauls them out to the two powerhouses outside the wall for containment and quick disposal—mainly, tossing them into the shallower part of the harbor.

What? They can all swim, can't they?

Wally steals the last of the guns from the most recent squad, tossing them up into the air where they're promptly caught by a construct of Milagro's. One is too far off, and he swears as it starts to plummet towards the ground again.

"I got this, cuz!"

Bart zips in out of nowhere, catches the gun, and tosses it up again, where Jaime knocks it off the island with a blast of sound and an ease that speaks of long practice.

"'Bout time you showed up, hermano," Jaime calls down.

"Yeah, yeah…s'all crash…" Bart's looking a little pale, and a lot sick.

"B—Kid Flash, are you okay?" Training keeps Wally referring to the younger speedster by his costume, even though anyone who would care enough to listen either can't hear him or already knows who's under the yellow cowl.

"Just…huff huff…tired…had to detour…Atlantians are at the mouth of the harbor."

"They're what?!" Wally yelps.

Jaime nods, eyes dark. "I'm on it. Be careful, carino. Hey, Static!" He shoots off towards the meta, and after a quick hurried discussion, they fly out of the courtyard and towards the mouth of the harbor, leaving the rest of them to fight on.

Wally unconsciously shifts into superspeed, moving so fast that the world—with the exception of Bart—seems to be standing still.

"Here," Wally holds out one of his high-energy bars (his special stash—he was experimenting one day and added several drops of caffeine to the mixture. Uncle Barry banned him from ever duplicating the recipe—but hey, desperate times) to the latest Kid Flash, who downs it in three bites and shakes his head.

"Whoo! That'saboostthat'sdefinitelycrashandnotatallmodedbutnowneitheramIso that'sokayandlet'sgokickbadguybuttbye!" Bart dashes back into the fight, leaving Wally by himself as the world speeds up again.

For some reason there are still more guards (where are they all coming from?) and Wally runs around knocking them out on his own until he gets an idea.

On his next pass around the courtyard, he speeds past Cheshire and grabs Artemis, scooping her up into a bridal carry. She squeaks in surprise, but easily falls into their old rhythm, firing off arrows as he zips them around the open area at high speed.

"Just like Paris all over again!" he calls, trying to be heard over the rushing wind.

"You and I remember Paris very differently," she replies, nocking and firing again with a smirk clear in her voice.

Static learns that it takes quite a bit of juice to knock out members of a species with the biological capacity to absorb more electricity than humans. This is turning out to be a trend lately.

"Can't you amp up the power or something?" Blue Beetle yells.

"Hey, you try channeling this much energy! I'm running low on power here! You've got the fancy sonic stuff, can't you do something?"

"No I can't, it's—wait, you can? Why didn't you say so before?"

Static groans. "You're talking to the bug again, aren't you?"

"Yeah, and I—he's—got an idea. Any chance of you having enough energia to pump out four billion joules or so?"

"Just barely, but then I will seriously need a recharge."

"On three."

Four seconds later, the water is crackling, Static's ears are ringing from a well-aimed sonic blast, and no more Atlantian squads are breaching the surface.

"That was…"

"Efficient, according to Kahji. You need a ride?"

"Why not?"

He has a bad feeling that Ed's going to find a way to scold him, even in the middle of a battle, for wearing himself out, but as long as he gets close to a power source in the next minute to refill, he doesn't care.

Sam and Roy make their way further in, cheerfully doing large amounts of damage. Arsenal scatters guards left and right with his arm set on "sweep" while Samurai charges up to blast down the door.

It's very satisfying to watch the concentric rings of her energy blasts demolish the wall around the steel and concrete obstacle. After that, it just takes a good push to knock it in.

"In!" she calls at Arsenal, powering up and taking a chi-enhanced leap down the hallway. Clearly, the few guards left inside around the front desk weren't expecting that. They go down in moments.

It takes roughly five minutes for those outside to finish disposing of the leftover guards, in which time the two left inside have cleared the interior all the way to a complicated-looking door set in a steel wall, and have nothing to do but stand around and wait for the rest to catch up.

Ed notices the suspicious absence of a door within thirty seconds of Sam's little renovation project, but is more immediately concerned with the exhausted magnetic superhero coming back slung over Blue Beetle's shoulder.

"Vir—Static!" he yells, teleporting right next to where the scarab-powered hero is landing. "What did you do to him?!"

"Ed, Ed—I'm okay. Just—out of juice."

"What do you need?" He ducks under Virgil's arm, letting the other teen rest on him as they pull away from Blue Beetle. "C'mon, I saw a generator over this way…"

"Sowhendoyouthinkthey'llmakeitofficial?"

Jaime looks over to see Bart standing next to him. The teen has grown at least four inches since they met, but it never really sunk in until the sight of Bart in the Kid Flash costume. It looks good on him.

It takes him a minute to realize Bart spoke, and another for Kahji to play back the speedtalk at normal speeds, but when he finally figures out what the speedster asked, he laughs.

Wally zooms into the small entrance room and sets Artemis down as gently as he can. She shakes out her ponytail—which is much shorter than it used to be—and rolls her shoulders, adjusting her bowgrip. She's still tense, though, so Wally zips around and starts rubbing her shoulders.

"Wal-ly!" She laughs and pulls out of his grip. "Is this really the time?"

"Hey, seize the moment, beautiful," he jokes, wiggling his eyebrows at her before he remembers that duh, she can't see them under his cowl.

"As…precious…as watching you flirt with my sister is, we do need a plan," Jade remarks dryly, dashing in with Will hot on her heels. "Everyone else is on their way. Courtyard's pretty much clear—Bart and the Reyes sibs are just finishing up."

As if to confirm this, Tye comes in, not even wobbling as he wakes up from his construct. Sam runs over anyway and checks over his torso, seemingly displeased by what she finds. She pokes him hard in the stomach and scowls at the wince it generates.

"Not laser-proof. Not careful. You promised."

Tye winces again. "Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry. Jeez, stop poking that, will you?"

"Stop getting shot!"

The Crock sisters and their redheads looked on with amusement at the squabbling couple.

"Ah, young love," Cheshire remarks. "Save it for the honeymoon, you two, we're on a mission here!"

That manages to shut them both up, and has the added bonus of bringing a blush out on Tye's face.

It actually takes a surprisingly short time to break down the door. Two explosives experts, a chi-enhanced human missile, a metal-controlling meta, and an alien with a sonic cannon are quite good at making big booms happen.

"Knock knock, room service!" Wally calls. "Huh. Looks like nobody's home."

Artemis pursued her lips as her eyes swept the room. "M'gann will've grouped them all in one place to make sure her mental control stays strong. This is the rec room. If they aren't here—" her eyes widened under her cowl, and she swore and smacked her forehead. "Dammit. The basement."

Wally groans under his breath. The quick briefing Artemis had given them had been quite clear that the basement was the most fortified part of the complex, and contained the labs and maximum-security cells.

There's a quick whispered discussion from the huddle of Roy, Virgil, and Ed, before Ed vanishes and the door to the hallway is blown off its hinges.

"You mean this basement?" Ed calls from the now open doorway.

Wally takes a moment to look at each member of the strike team. "This is getting serious. No, hear me out. I know you all signed up for this, but…we're getting close to the Point of No Return, people. From here, the odds of all of us making out of this alive…drop. A lot. No hard feelings if you choose to back out now."

There's a moment of silence. Then…

"You're kidding, right?" Static's glare is flat and decidedly unimpressed. "We knew going into this exactly what would happen. This might seem like a jumpshot suicide mission to you, but we've been dealing with this for three years longer than you have, and we're done. This is endgame, and everyone here knows it."

"We didn't come for a playdate, West." Arsenal's domino-masked stare is challenging and cutting, matching the rest of the room's occupants.

Artemis socks him gently on the shoulder. "We're with you on this, Wall-man."

"Hate to break up the Hallmark moment, but we are on a time limit." Red Arrow stalks over to the now-accessible hallway, Cheshire close behind. "Are you coming or what?"

"Coming! We're coming!"

Outside, a tall black man hauls himself out of the water. The hooded red and black suit that covers his body borrows heavily from the designs of his father—including electrical insulation, a fact he is quite grateful for. And it appears he will have to admit that Nightwing's paranoia over betrayal holds some usefulness—the material has a second layer, a highly experimental compound designed to shield the wearer from sonic attacks. It was developed by a scientist in Gotham.

Kaldur would like to express his gratitude to this mysterious scientist—his innovation is the only thing that allowed him to escape the trap laid for the Atlantian troops with only a minor ringing in his ears and a buzzing in his veins.

"Nightwing to Aquaman. Come in, Aquaman."

Kaldur presses a webbed hand to the comm in his ear. "Aquaman here. What is your location?"

"We're ten minutes out from the zetas and closing. What's the sitrep there?"

"I am on the east beach, and from what I have been able to determine, they have breached at least as far as the courtyard. Whether they have been able to reach further into the facility is unknown. I will attempt to gather the guards and apprehend—"

"Negative."

Kaldur's expression does not change, but he feels a surge of irritation. Has Nightwing forgotten who the leader of this group is?

"What little video we have of the situation seems to confirm that this is a full-on no-holds-barred last stand. They're desperate. Wait for backup. It'll be easier to take them down within the facility, especially if they think they have the upper hand."

His reasoning does make sense.

"And if they go too far in?"

"Red Robin, Zatanna, and Bumblebee are locked in the lab finishing Starrotech. She thanks you for the assistance with the Atlantian sorcery, by the way. Batwoman's on guard and is fully capable of halting any intruders. M'gann is maintaining full psychic coercion over the inmates in the maximum security holding cell. They're contained."

"Very well. I will not intervene."

"Red Hood was stationed near the front door. If they got past him, he could be injured. Check on him." The connection ends immediately after that—Nightwing doesn't believe in tying up the comms.

Kaldur sighs and begins the trek up the beach to where Hood's supposed to be stationed, wondering what the vigilante could have gotten himself taken out with this time.

Sahara Desert

March 20th

00:20 ADT

Halfway across the world, Nightwing has ended the transmission. It's the middle of the night in the desert, and the air is cold and clear. From his vantage point, hanging from Donna's arms, he can see Conner on the sands below. The figure lets out a roar and launches into the sky, flying off in the opposite direction of the zeta tube.

Nightwing would typically object, but since it might actually be faster for the Kryptonian to fly there himself, he won't this time.

So instead he grits his teeth and focuses on the horizon, mentally readjusting his plans for how to fix whatever damage has been done to Arkham.

We'll have to invest in more speedster-proof cells if we want to keep Wally contained. Once Artemis is out of the way, he'll be much more…difficult…to handle.

Chapter Text

Arkham Asylum

March 19th

20:04 EST

Wally's doing his absolute best not to rush ahead, or vibrate in place, or zip all over the place, or generally do anything that indicates how freaking tense he is with the slow pace. He would be bored, except his mind keeps running through every 'what-could-go-wrong' scenario at superspeed. He's not sure how many times he's calculated how long it would take him to grab Artemis and get out of there, except he keeps coming up with weird numbers. Ever since he got out of the collar, his speed has been off, and he's been moving differently every time he runs.

Man, I really hope I didn't get even slower. That would suck.

But he tries to act calm, knowing that freaking out won't help (and yet wanting to freak out so bad.)

From the weary looks Artemis is giving him as the group moves carefully forward, stopping frequently to let Ed flash in and out and check the next corridor over, she can see right through his façade.

"Stop," she says at the next intersection. "This is it."

"Finally!" Wally bounces up and down in place so fast that the floor starts to crack under him. "Oops…"

Artemis looks like she wants to let out a sigh, but settles for a quick briefing. "Right leads to the basement cells and the Starrotech lab. Left to the computer rooms. We're splitting here, right?"

Will affirms her question and quickly scans the group. "Static, Samurai, Arsenal, Beetle, you three get the intel and take out the computers, then meet us in the cells."

"Hey, where Blue goes, I go," Kid Flash interjects.

"Except you're needed in the labs to get through the door. You can be in and out so fast they never know you're there, but we've seen before that Dorado's vulnerable to magical containment fields. It would be stupid at this point in the game to lose one of our people because we sent him knowingly into a situation he couldn't get out of." In the middle of the RA-Kid Flash glaring match, Wally spots Ed and Virgil having a silent conversation that seems to consist of lots of glares and questioning looks and a pretty clear "none of your business" expression on Ed's part.

"I mean, come on, you've got Wa—I mean Flash—and he can do that, can't he?"

Wally gives Bart his best stink-eye from under the mask. "No, he can't. You're the fast one, remember?"

Bart blinks, smirks (is that what Wally used to look like when he smirked under the cowl? No wonder Artemis used to smack him all the time) and moves.

Wally easily blocks the punch Bart throws at him. "Whatwasthatfor?!"

"Comegetme." Bart shoots off towards the way out. Wally resists the urge to swear and follows him, thinking about all the horrible training punishments he will devise as soon as this is over. Is this how Barry felt? Nah, I was never that much of an obnoxious little shit. Was I?

He barely notices that he's passed Bart until he's twenty feet ahead and skidding on the floor and seeing a wall and thinking oh crapcrapcrapittycrapcrap!

Wally stops just in time, and spins around to glare at the overly cheeky auburn in the Kid Flash suit. "Whatwasthatfor?Seriouslywasthatreallynecessary?You'refasterthanme,Igetit,didyouhavetogoslowtoproveit?"

"Iwasn'tgoingslow."

"Flash!" Red Arrow yells from down the hall. "Don't you dare go after—fuck, he's gone."

Wally blinks and stares. Down the hall, he can just barely see the group looking around as though they just noticed he left—

—or as though he just left.

"Seriously?" he asks Bart, who's wearing a shit-eating grin that Wally feels he should have trademarked.

"Hey, would you have believed me?"

Wally's earpiece crackles and he hears a voice come on. It's impossible to identify or understand at first, since it sounds like the person on the other end is talking in extreme slow motion.

Only after he makes a conscious effort to slow down is he able to catch Will's transmission. "—back here right, I swear that I will give the brat coffee and leave you locked in a room with him for a week."

"That's a little below the belt, don't you think?"

Will's response is something in Navajo that Wally's glad he can't understand. "Just get back here."

"On our way."

So after more debate and a healthy dose of Bart's puppy dog eyes (which even Red Arrow is not immune to) the teams are decided. Wally heads off with Cheshire, Red Arrow, Artemis, Longshadow, and Samurai towards the cells, after the others head off towards the computer room, promising to meet up with them as soon as possible.

Wally would have liked to have a meta with telepathic immunity when facing off against a powerful Martian, but even he has to admit that Virgil's needed more to hack the computers.

"Um…is there anyone here who can keep angry, scary, M'gann out of their heads?"

Wally's sure it's a valid question. He totally doesn't deserve the snort of laughter from the Crocks and the grumble from Will.

"Whaaat?"

Asami shrugs. "No stopping mind control. Virgil only one. Rest of us…not so lucky."

"M'gann is the only reason the Lords have stayed in power this long." Artemis decides to tactfully refrain from mentioning that she was one of those in power, and everyone else is polite enough not to comment. "Most powerful psychic on the face of the earth, remember?"

"We might get lucky. If what your girlfriend says is true, then the Martian will be busy keeping the rest of the League under control. She might not be able to extend herself that much." Tye's tone belies anything in his words that could be hopeful.

"Don't count on it. We're here." Red Arrow stops outside a thick door, the words INTENSIVE CARE emblazoned across the steel in bright red lettering.

Cheshire twirls her sai, checking the balance as she moves into an attack position. "Samurai, Longshadow, if you'd do the honors?"

Sam charges up with her chi energy, and sends a burst of concentric circles at the door, causing the reinforced steel to crumple. Tye grows into a smaller version of his Longshadow projection, using his large golden hands to pry the doors apart.

Wally bolts ahead immediately after the hallway's cleared. The plan is just for him to be in and out in moments for a quick recon, and then to report back.

The speedster comes to a screeching halt, however, when he nearly runs over a far-too-familiar figure.

"Barry?" Wally whispers.

He doesn't know what he expected. Artemis had told him that Barry was still alive, and he believed her, but knowing that the uncle who had practically raised him was still around, and standing in front of him in the man's own costume, are two very different things.

"Barry, you're here! I can't believe, oh man I've got so much to tell you—oh, yeah, you probably still thought I was dead—"

Before he can finish, Barry's gone, running off towards the end of the corridor. Wally's surprised, but his feet move before his mind can follow through, chasing after the figure in sweats. He moves at a speed that was his old 'normal', but now feels slow.

What's going on here?

Barry makes a tight swerve around the corner, and Wally follows, skidding a bit.

Okay, I've got the speed—now I gotta work on stopping.

"Uncle B, wait!" he calls, trying to stop in the dead-end hallway his uncle wound up in. It ends badly, with a fall from the extra momentum that he just manages to turn into a somersault.

Definitely gotta work on stopping.

"Seriously, Uncle Barry, what's going on?"

The blond man turns around, illuminated by the light of a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, and Wally immediately knows that something's wrong.

The bright, laughing blue eyes that he knew so well are glazed over in a way that suggests all kinds of bad things.

His earpiece crackles to life, a panic-filled voice on the other end.

"Wally! It's a trap! They finished the tech. They're ready for us, get out of there no—" Artemis's voice cuts off and the panic levels in Wally's brain skyrocket.

They finished it…

No…

A glowing red sigil appears on Barry's irises, and he shoots off back into the hallway. Before Wally can react, a loud slam signals a heavy metal door falling into place.

Cutting him off.

No!

Outside, Aquaman is attempting to reason with his frequently unmanageable, often uncooperative, and now downright mutinous teammate.

"Fuck that, we need to get in there now!"

Kaldur slowly breathes in and out. I will not shock him back into unconsciousness. I will not shock him back into unconsciousness. I will not shock him back into unconsciousness.

Donna would be most displeased with me, after all.

Why is it, though, that out of all his teammates, Hood is the only one who consistently forces him to rely on tactics he hasn't had to use since the early days of the Team?

"Red Hood, Nightwing gave clear orders that we cannot enter the facility. Not only is it filled with multiple hostiles, but it also contains sensitive, crucial information." And prisoners I cannot afford to bring you near without backup.

"I don't give a rat's ass what Wing thinks. The two of us could get in there easy!"

"Only to make ourselves easy targets and distract those focused on crucial experiments. We need to wait for backup."

"I don't—"

A loud roar comes from the east, and both men look towards the sound as a black-and-red figure shoots through the sky, moving faster than a missile. It crashes into the outer wall of the facility, making the two of them wince as concrete and steel shatter with a loud crack.

Another loud roar from within the facility clearly indicates the target's path.

Hood shoots a look at Kaldur, who's momentarily stunned.

"See? Backup."

Before the Atlantian can stop him, the Red Hood takes off running towards Arkham, jumping and flipping off of various bits of rubble to gain enough height to leap through the now-convenient hole in the wall.

Kaldur pinches the bridge of his nose in a futile effort to hold off the inevitable oncoming headache.

Jaime tries to focus on something immediate—the color of the walls, the elevator music Khaji's piping in from somewhere, the uncomfortable amount of silent tension going on between the two metas walking in front. Anything that keeps his mind off of Milagro and the fact that she's somewhere ahead of them in the hostile complex where he can't see her. The walls are lead-lined for some reason—Khaji can't see her or the energy signature she gives off either.

He wishes that she hadn't come. She might be a Green Lantern, but she's still his sister. If that stupid ring hadn't attached itself to her, she wouldn't even be here.

Jaime Reyes, we could likely neutralize the Oan technology with a highly concentrated burst of sun energy focused on the affected area. Sibling Milagro will suffer a loss of the arm and third degree burns.

"No blasting my sister or the ring. We agreed on this," Jaime hisses.

This scarab agreed to no such terms.

Arsenal gives him a funny look, but apparently the drama playing out ahead of them is more interesting.

"How come you never told me about magical containment fields?" Virgil finally demands. It's whispered out of necessity, but the tone definitely manages to convey that it would be asked in a raised voice otherwise.

Ed shrugs, not making eye contact. "It's hard enough to contact you. It's not like it was pertinent information."

"'Pertinent information'?" Virgil asks, and the icy skepticism is clearly audible in his voice. "Do you even hear yourself?

Ed ignores this.

"And, oh yeah, since the last time I checked the Resistance had no magic users, how the heck did you learn that your teleporting could be blocked by magic?"

"How did that happen?" Jaime asks Arsenal quietly. The other teen immediately puts his good hand up in a 'leave me out of this' gesture.

"Look, it's no big deal," Ed finally says, unable to tolerate Virgil's look anymore. "I just—there was a mission, and we broke into this dude's magic shop, and—and he had a field around it that activated at the alarms and—and I got caught alright? I screwed up. That's it. Just drop it."

"No, I won't. Just how many risks have you been taking?"

"That's none of your business!"

"Like hell it's none of my business!"

At some point in the conversation, the two teens have stopped in the middle of the hallway and are now facing each other, glaring, and arguing in the loudest whispers Jaime has ever heard. And he grew up with Milagro.

"You've got more important things to worry about!"

"What could be more important than you?"

Bart zips back around just in time to catch the two of them both turning red—Virgil with the classic did-I-just-say-that-out-loud expression and Ed with its equally classic counterpart, did-I-really-just-hear-that.

Arsenal's smirking, mentally calculating how much he just won off the clone and Milagro in their ongoing bet and whether it counts if they haven't kissed yet. Hey, they've finally acknowledged the UST—that has to be worth at least half of the pool.

Jaime just ignores Khaji Da rattling off readings in the back of his head and looks over at Bart, who has a fond smile on his face and appears rather—nostalgic.

"Remember when that was us?" The speedster casually remarks. "Good times, good times."

Jaime joins the blushing brigade as Ed and Virgil immediately break eye contact and mutter "Shut up" at the same time.

"If you losers are done being all mushy, can we get a move on?"

For what is probably the first and most likely the last time, Jaime thanks whatever deities he can think of for his sister's ability to say exactly the wrong thing.

Sibling Milagro's vocal patterns have been restored to previously recorded levels.

"Yeah, I missed it too," Jaime whispers as he follows the others back down the hall.

Before they can get too far, a loud crashing noise comes from the outside of the corridor, shaking the floor and walls.

Milagro's the only one to look puzzled. Everyone else's faces show a clear understanding of their impending doom.

"Was that an earthquake?" she asks, as the only hero inexperienced enough to not already be aware of the answer.

Ed's paler than Jaime had ever seen him.

"Oh, el infierno no."

"Move?" Virgil offers in a strangled voice.

"Move," a chorus of voices agrees with him. The entire group immediately takes off running, flying, and teleporting for the end of the hallway and their destination.

"Dammit, Wally!" Artemis mutters when her idiot boyfriend doesn't appear after half a minute as planned.

Will scowls and checks over the bow ready to go in his hands. "We need to go, now. It doesn't matter where Flash got to, he can catch up later or not at all."

And though Artemis wants to pin him to the wall for even daring to suggest they start moving without Wally, she nods and follows the others down the hall.

Three things happen at once.

A loud clang all too reminiscent of various imprisonments echoes down the hall to the left.

A louder series of crashes and a few roars come from outside.

And Barry Allen, Bruce Wayne, Dinah Lance, and Oliver Queen appear from around the corner, a red sigil glowing in each eye.

It is, Artemis considers, all too easy to forget how many languages are spoken by the members of this group until all of them are swearing at once.

The second emerald archer doesn't waste breath cursing fate, but simply nocks an arrow and pins her former mentor to the wall before Conner comes crashing through the corridor and all hell breaks loose.

Wally slams his fist against the door again after the second, or third, or tenth time searching the door for weaknesses. With the way his speed is making everything blur together, he honestly couldn't say.

But the end result from every search is the same. No cracks, no worn spots, no places high-speed vibrations could be used to make it fall apart.

After using some words Aunt Iris would definitely not approve of, Wally presses a hand to his comm, ready to give up and call for backup.

"Flash to Artemis, this is—"

An explosion that he hears both on the other end of the comm and through the steel door makes him flinch for a split second before he returns immediately to attempting to contact someone—more desperately than before.

"Artemis? Artemis, can you hear me? Barry trapped me in some kind of dead-end hallways, I can't get out—what'sgoingonoutthere?"

Artemis, bless her, manages to understand his frantic speedtalk.

"They finished Starrotech. We're under attack from Dinah, Bruce, Ollie, and Barry—they're all mind-controlled, they're not the problem—but Conner's here too, and—agh!"

The only warning before the transmission dies is a crackle of static and another loud crash from outside Wally's cell.

"Artemis? Artemis, answer me?"

There's no response.

Artemis hears the thud of a pair of combat boots behind her in the middle of her transmission to Wally and twists to the side as a bullet shoots past her leg. She spins around and grabs her bow, prepping to raise an arrow at her assailant's head, when a loud screech of feedback comes from her comm.

From the yells that accompany her own, she clearly isn't the only one experiencing malfunction. Artemis tears out the device and throws it on the ground as she nocks a random arrow and brings it up to aim at whoever fired the first shot.

Wally punches the wall a few more times, but all he gets out of it are sore knuckles and the chance to cuss.

He tries to calm down, but the only thing he can hear is the roaring of blood in his ears and every breath seeming to chant Artemis, Artemis, Artemis.

He tries to talk himself down, to convince himself that there are a million different explanations for why her comm could have gone dead, but none of them are good.

The only thing that manages to snap his head back into place is the sight of his hands vibrating against the steel door and the crazy idea it gives him.

Wally takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and reaches into his memory, desperately trying to find the day he knows he needs.

It was a year or so after Wally had first recreated his uncle's experience and talked him into letting Wally be his sidekick. After several weeks' worth of tests, they had finally all agreed that his speed was settling down at last. Wally had immediately seized the opportunity and begged Barry to teach him how to vibrate through objects.

Now, three days and multiple bloody noses later, Wally was hiding out in his old treehouse, head tucked against his knees.

"Knock knock?" a voice called from the other end of the treehouse, where the trapdoor was. "Kid, you up here?"

"Go away, Uncle Barry!" Wally yelled. "It's not gonna work."

He heard his uncle's sigh, and just hid his face even more, waiting for the older man to realize what a colossal failure Wally was and just leave.

But that didn't happen.

Wally felt the floor shake as his uncle climbed up into the treehouse and sat down next to him, legs sticking out over the edge of the platform.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"No." Wally buried his face even further in his knees.

There was a sigh from his uncle's direction.

"You know, I didn't learn how to vibrate through stuff for a while either," his uncle admits.

"Really?" Wally raised his head from his knees and blinked at his uncle.

"No. Neither did Jay. It's not exactly an instinctive thing. We spend our whole lives learning how solid everything is, how real, and then when all of a sudden it isn't—well, it's kinda hard to adjust. When everything you thought was immovable has changed, when everything that once stopped you is gone, you don't want it to be. You want everything to stay the same. You don't want to break the last rule that sticks around and holds the universe together."

Wally swallowed. He wanted to be fast, he did—but Barry was making speed sound scary.

But he wasn't arguing. Even if he did vibrate through something, what would happen? Would he just keep vibrating forever, fall through the floor?

No he wouldn't, that was stupid. Barry did it all the time, and he was fine—

But he wasn't Barry. He wasn't that fast, he wasn't that good.

"So what am I gonna do?" he asked, quietly. "What did you do?"

Barry just sat there silently.

"Well, the first time I did it was when I knew—knew with all my mind and soul—that someone else needed me more. I decided that if the rules were going to change, then I would be the one changing them. Not for my sake—but because someone else needed me."

"Was it Iris?"

Barry smiled. "Yeah, Kid. It was."

They sat there in silence for a couple more minutes.

"Wally, don't try and push yourself."

Wally sat up indignantly, ready to argue, but Barry held up his hand. "If you keep trying to do it when you're not ready, all you're gonna do is teach yourself where the limits are and keep reinforcing them. Like a rat in a lab. It's okay to wait."

"For what?"

"Until you're ready to rewrite the world yourself."

Back in the present, Wally's eyes snap open and his hands begin to blur even faster against the steel wall holding him in.

If anyone was around and could see past the cowl, they would have seen the twin flashes of red lightning that bloomed in his eyes.

The white eye circles on a red background reveal nothing. The hand holding a pistol aimed at Artemis's heart is steady.

The archer's eyes flick from the barrel pointed at her heart to the head of her currently nocked arrow. She's hoping desperately for a net or foam arrow, something enough of a threat to restrain Jason without actually hurting him.

Sharp. Barbed. Dammit, I thought I got rid of all of these. Their serious injury rate was a bit too high for her comfort.

"Jason," she says calmly, hoping to distract him or talk him down. "You always got all the cool toys."

He shrugs nonchalantly. "Just a disruptor. Nothing too fancy. Kinda surprised it worked, though."

"Well, I'm with a bit more lower-budget group now," Artemis remarks, sounding as casual as possible. They begin to slowly circle each other, both avoiding the chunks of rubble on the floor from Tye's little renovation project.

"Really? Didn't think you'd settle for something like that."

"Well, I gotta admit, the free speech and free thoughts? Bit more tempting benefits than good dental."

"Hey, don't knock the dental." They both smoothly duck as a whap from a huge golden hand sends Clark Kent flying backwards into the wall. Neither of them breaks eye contact.

"Jason, please, you don't have to do this. Come with us."

Jason scoffs. "And what, run like a rat for the rest of my life and drag Donna down with me? We're actually making a difference, Artemis. One the League was never able to. All you're doing is fighting the tide."

"I thought you were sick of the secrets and lies," Artemis says flatly, keeping her bow aimed at his chest. "Like the League, Jason?"

"You were one of the ones lying to me, Artemis, don't turn it all around now." She catches a tremor in his hand then. Gotcha.

"Doesn't it sting, though? Knowing that they're not telling the truth? That your own brother doesn't trust you?" If she can just goad him into shooting, take advantage of the distraction—"What else aren't they telling you, Jay? What else do they know?"

"Shut up," he growls.

Artemis braces herself for the crippling blow—the unforgivable one. "What if they're just waiting so they can send you out to die? Just like Bruce did."

An explosion goes off somewhere else in the facility, but they both ignore it.

The Red Hood lets out an animalistic sound. "All I have to do it pull the trigger."

"All I have to do is let go," she whispers in reply.

But before either of them can release their respective weapons, there's a whoosh, and Jason suddenly finds himself disarmed before he's being jerked through the air and dropped on the ground outside of Arkham.

"Fucking speedsters," he growls, swaying from the dizzy spell brought on by sudden motion sickness.

Artemis slowly lowers her bow with shaking hands as Wally reappears in front of her.

"You okay, babe?"

"Y-yeah," she mutters. "Fine." She takes the barbed arrow off the string and tosses it away, fingers still trembling.

Sorry, Jason.

With the stand-off over, the world—and the battle—feels like it's suddenly snapped back into place around her.

"Ready to rejoin the good fight?"

"Yeah, just give me a—"

A loud crash coming from the area of the roof signals the end of the minute Artemis was going to ask for. Both former sidekicks spin around to see Wonder Woman setting down Nightwing on the edge of the battlefield, Wonder Girl landing next to them. A streak of purple light overhead shows Rocket heading for another part of the facility while a green elephant materializes on the other side of the battlefield and charges straight at the small pocket of Resistance fighters.

And as if the influx of Lords wasn't enough, half of the League appears on one side with the tornado of light that always signals one of Zatanna's spells. The Mistress of Magic herself, along with Red Robin, flashes into existence next to them. Her hands are raised, eyes glowing red, while Tim has several holo-screens set up. Under his direction, he sends the League on the attack like figures in a video game.

Wally scoops up Artemis and runs her over to the other side of the facility, setting her down at a safe distance from any enemies.

"Iloveyou," he blurts out, before running off to face Beast Boy and the army of zombie heroes.

Artemis wishes he would come back so she could kiss him. Or hit him. Or both.

"Your timing still stinks," she mutters, prepping about four foam arrows at once.

Chapter Text

Arkham Asylum

March 19 th

20:42 EST

Bart, predictably, is the first one to reach the doors of the lab and vibrates through them just as the rest are catching up. Not so predictably, he immediately comes phasing back out, face white.

"Blue, hermano! Code Redhead, code Redhead!"

Even Khaji Da stops his narration in the back of Jaime's head and Virgil freezes in place as the rest, who are unfamiliar with the Lords, trade confused glances.

"What do you mean, code Redhead?" Arsenal asks, immediately suspicious.

"Not you," Jaime quickly corrects. "Batwoman."

That does get a reaction from the rest. All of them except Milagro have had to face off against the former Batgirl before, and all of them have prayed to whatever deity they believe in that they'll never have to do so again.

Clearly, several someones aren't listening.

Milagro once again shows her inexperience by shrugging and charging up her ring. "So? She's just like any other bad guy. We go in and take her down and out."

Bart shakes his head so fast it almost makes her vomit from motion sickness. "No. Not crash, not crash at all. This is Batwoman we're talking about here."

"They say she knows five ways to kill you with a paper clip," Virgil put in.

"And that she's the one who took down Superman and Wonder Woman—both at once." Bart's buzzing nervously in place.

Commander Batwoman has demonstrated…impressive skills.

Okay, Jaime's still a little out of it, but he can still remember what Batgirl was like before this whole thing started. And if Khaji has so much respect he's calling her Commander…

"We definitely need a plan," Jaime admits nervously. "Bart, how much time do we have?"

Kid Flash darts off down the hall and comes back too quickly for comfort. "M'gann's coming!"

That makes the issue of whether or not to go in irrelevant very quickly. There may be horror stories drifting around about Batwoman, but there are horror reports about the kind of things Miss Martian can do.

"Rush her all at once and hope for the best?" Ed offers.

No one disagrees.

Virgil pops the lock with a burst of static electricity, and they all rush inside.

Arsenal brings up the rear, arm prepped to fire, but as soon as he's through the door, it slams shut again with a loud, ominous, clang.

The lights go off, and in the faint green glow from Milagro's ring, a cowl appears out of the darkness in a signature move that makes three people yelp. Two of them will be around to firmly deny it later.

"You made a mistake, coming in here."

It might have worked.

On another day, when they had time to prepare an actual plan, when they weren't already tired from earlier battles, when a hundred other things had gone differently—it might have worked.

But today is not that day.

Arsenal goes down first, taken out by a series of attacks by Batwoman. He falls to his knees, only to have M'gann appear from behind him. She grabs his prosthetic, and rips it from its socket brutally and efficiently, telepathically crushing it to pieces. The pain that accompanies this action tears a hole in his mental shields for a crucial moment, long enough for M'gann to knock him into a psychic coma.

Blue Beetle manages to catch Batwoman with a giant staple and restrain her against the wall, but he doesn't manage to pin her arms before she flings an explosive batarang at him. The blast isn't harmful, but it disorients and distracts him long enough for her to cut her way free and knock the wind out of Bart when he comes charging at her. The speedster is unceremoniously tossed into the wall over the computer banks.

Milagro is busy trying to restrain M'gann, but her concentration is fraying with every object the Martian telepathically hurls at her. It only takes one shot to the head when she isn't paying attention to her shields to take her down for the count.

Static fares a bit better, and has some success with his tactic of raising a net of electricity around M'gann that she's unable to pass. It lasts until Batwoman attacks him from behind.

"Traitor!" She snarls, slamming one hand into his chest.

Her attack masks the movement of her other hand towards his back pocket—and the flash drive she slips in.

"Yeah?" Virgil matches her move for move—his meta ability makes up for any deficiencies in hand-to-hand combat. "Well, I'm just surprised you didn't see it coming!" He loses his balance and overcompensates, leaving himself open to a kick to the side.

She has no scruples about taking advantage of the opportunity. She does, however, take a moment to stand over him and mentally shake her head. If only you knew what I saw coming…

"Aaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuughhhhhhhhh!"

The pain-filled yell alerts her to the attack from behind—to the side—from the front—from above—

I hate fighting teleporters.

Dorado fights all jab and feint, appearing in one spot to draw her attention and fire only to go behind her back and attack from there. There's no way to pin him down or land a solid enough blow to knock him out for long enough.

Damn it. There go plans A through D.

So as soon as she gets a brief respite, the rebreather goes in, and one of her sleeping gas bombs goes down.

It has no effect on M'gann, who simply goes intangible, or on Blue Beetle with his armor. But the one she's counting on most for it to have no effect on is Bart.

Her comm crackles. "B, I'm inbound. One minute. You ready? Actually, you sure about this?"

Barbara can't afford to take out her rebreather, so she just makes an affirmative-sounding grunt.

"Ookay…thirty seconds now."

Barbara ducks behind the computer counsel where she dropped Impulse and shakes him roughly on the shoulder. The gas has already risen to the ceiling—she can take her rebreather out if she just keeps her head low enough—and he should have already metabolized it by now.

"Get up," she hisses, shaking the speedster.

He jolts under her hands, and she just barely remembers to slap a hand over his mouth as he wakes up.

Bart's eyes are fiery under the Kid Flash cowl, and she can hear a low series of noises that sound as though they'd be very rude if they were clearly audible.

"Shut up and listen, I'm trying to help you," she hisses.

"Ooe fhou mph urph?"

Barbara knows it's pointless, but she rolls her eyes anyway. "Just take this if you want to save your boyfriend." She drops a firebomb within his reach. "Remember the beetle with his own personal Kryptonite?"

She sees his eyes go wide in understanding.

"It has a ten-second timer. Get everyone else over here before then." She pulls her hands off him. "Go."

He's gone before she even finishes the word. She starts the mental countdown at ten and dives out (Nine) from behind the counter (Eight), knowing she has to (Seven) make this look (Six) good. "Miss Martian! M'gann! He picked my pocket, he stole something, look—" One.

She somersaults to shield her face from the blast, just barely seeing the purple dome descend over her. Thanks, Rocket.

When she looks up, half the roof is gone, the computers are destroyed, M'gann's unconscious on the floor—phased halfway into it—and Bart is standing over a pile of his unconscious teammates, mouth doing an excellent impression of a donut.

"This. Never. Happened." She growls at him. Her growl isn't quite Bruce-level, but from the way his face goes utterly pale, she'd say that she's pulling it off quite well. "You pickpocketed the bomb and set it off. You got everyone out in time. Rocket was never here. I didn't do anything. Got. It."

Bart audibly gulps. "Yup! Gotit. Absolutelygotit,pleasedon'thurtme—"

"Now wake up your friends and get out of here."

He actually salutes (she has got to use that voice more often) and starts shaking everyone around him. She takes the opportunity to quietly slip away.

Rocket's waiting outside, looking nervous. "Did it work?"

Barbara lets out a soft exhale. "Yeah. And…" she quickly summons her holo-computer and remotely accesses the Hall of Justice security systems. "Amistad's deleted from the system. It's offline for an hour. You have that long to get him out." She makes eye contact with her friend. "Good luck. And I mean it with the best of intentions when I say I hope I never see you again."

Because they both know that if they see each other again, it will mean that Raquel will have failed.

"Yeah. You too. Thanks, B. For everything." And she hugs Barbara before lifting into the sky and shooting away in a streak of purple light.

Leaving her behind to return to her persona and collapse on the floor a convenient distance from M'gann.

Closing her eyes, she drops into a meditative trance and locks away the events of the past ten minutes into a memory palace the Martian won't be able to see.

She can't afford to have all her hard work and careful planning undone now, after all.

Main Battle

Arkham Asylum

March 19 th

21:02 EDT

And okay, no one will ever call Artemis an optimist, but at least she doesn't take the time to think about how majorly screwed for good they almost were until the backup shows up.

Even then, she contents herself with breathing a quiet sigh of relief as she relaxes her hand, firing her last foam arrow at Conner.

He punches his way through it, but it buys enough time for Asami to jump further out of his way.

The reinforcements spread out across the battlefield, picking their battles wisely…except for Arsenal, who's letting out a beserker yell and charging straight at Aquaman.

"What is he doing?" Artemis demands of someone, anyone.

Kid Flash skids to a stop in front of her. "M'gann took his arm off and hekindawentcrazywellcrazierandhe'snotlisteningandwell—" he gulps for air. "He's gone the kind of crazy where you don't care about living." With that, he's off again, distracting Barry so Wally can get free.

Artemis growls and grabs two arrows—fire and blunt-tipped, her last of each. It's a matter of two quick shots; blunt one to get Arsenal knocked out and the fire one keeping Aquaman from reaching him.

"Wa—Flash!" she calls, and it's stupid, because everyone here knows his name, but hey, professionalism in the field. Either way, he's at her side in a heartbeat.

"Get that idiot somewhere safe," she orders, pointing at Roy's unconscious form.

It only takes a moment before he's at her side again, studying the various battles.

"What do you think?" he asks.

She nocks and fires two more shots before responding. "The Leaguers are the biggest liability. We need to get rid of the Starrotech. Target Zatanna."

"On it." There's a whoosh and a pressure on her lips that she automatically raises a hand to before he's back circling the battlefield.

Wally zips around and around and around, looking for some way to get to Zatanna and Tim. With a wall at their backs and battles all around, he has to admit that they have their bases covered.

But wait long enough, and the openings should line up, and—there!

Clear line of sight, no time to think, just to MOVE.

He punches the magician in the jaw, just barely staying below dangerous speeds, and the light fades from her eyes as she collapses on the ground.

Wally grabs the—controller, it's a controller or a transmitter or something, because there is no way he's calling it an amulet—out of her hand and vibrates until it snaps in two.

"Sorry, Zee. I still don't believe in magic. But your energy manipulation was getting annoying."

Artemis wants to cheer as the light dies from the eyes of the Leaguers and they collapse to the ground like puppets who have just had their strings cut.

But she doesn't. She just shoots a net at the last cluster of standing guards and murmurs a soft, "Nice work, Wall-man" with a small smile on her lips.

The smile quickly turns to a frown as she counts heads and realizes that over half a dozen aren't up here. Manhunter, yes, but not Plastic Man or Captain Atom. Shayera Hol, but not her husband or Ray Palmer. No Orin or Hal Jordan or Billy or Augustus Freeman.

With the shattered complex, there's only one place they could be.

Other part of the basement. Dammit.

Her comm's disconnected, but she manages to flag down Wally.

"Flash, not all of the League is here. I'm going down to the basement to find them. No, I don't need backup—you stay here and help." She cuts off the protest before it can even get out of his mouth.

"You don't have your communicator anymore. You're not going down alone." His jaw is set.

She rolls her eyes. "Wally, they need you more up here. Tell you what, stay up here for five more minutes, then come down and find me."

"Deal." He kisses here again, but before she can smack him, he's gone back to cleaning up other battles.

So Artemis turns around and heads for the entrance to the basement.

She never notices the shadow creeping after her.

Cheshire will never admit it out loud, but she has to admit that being able to take down the zombie versions of the Justice League? So much fun.

"Loosen up," she calls to her husband as she kicks Oliver Queen in the chest. "This is the best date we've had in three years."

"Really?" His voice is dryly amused as he aims a net arrow at the Wonder Ladies, who are both somewhat occupied with Tye. The golden giant is managing to be one of their biggest powerhouses, and a damn good distraction while Asami knocks down the soaked soldiers who have somehow managed to regroup.

They look madder than wet cats. Cheshire laughs to herself as she slices the biceps of a few of them, then catches herself. No. I am not going down the 'crazy theme pun villain' route. I am better than that.

"What about that jaunt to Venice to steal that reactor?" One of his arrows embeds itself in the thigh of a guard who was trying to sneak up on her. "Boat chase in the canals, dinner afterwards, with good wine and the best Sfogliatelle you said you'd ever eaten?"

"Mmm, we should go back there sometime. Look who finally grew a sense of humor."

"Perish the thought."

Cheshire swings her sai at Shayera Thal, who's managed to get the drop on her—please, it's the wings, they give her an unfair advantage—when the Thanagarian stops dead in midair, falling to the ground without forward momentum.

All over the compound, the rest of the League who had previously been attacking in their brainwashed stupors can be found in a similar dazed state, and Jade will never admit that she stares. Just a bit.

Okay, a lot.

"Chesh, look out!"

Will. What's—oh, đi tiêu.

She can practically hear her father's voice in her head—"Eyes on the prize, little girl. Never get distracted in a fight or you're in for a world of hurt."

Cheshire spins around. Superman's coming at her, roaring, and she's paralyzed with fear for a single crucial moment because it doesn't matter that his hair is black or that he's younger because his eyes and the look in them are too much like Lawrence's and it's him coming at her with raised fists and oh god she didn't listen and she's going to die now—

A green claw construct wraps around her waist and yanks her out of the path of the angry Kryptonian, dumping her on the ground next to Milagro.

"Ja—Cheshire, you okay?" Mila asks. She's hovering in midair, looking slightly dazed but clearly coherent enough to fight.

"Am now. Thanks for the save, kiddo." Her tone, as always, is light, masking the way her hands are shaking. Jade reminds herself that the time when that particular demon held any sway over her is long since gone. She's moved on. She has a husband, two children, a life of her own.

And when all else fails, she has the mask to retreat to and hide behind—to protect her.

"Anytime. How's it going here?"

"Oh, the usual…a little mayhem, a little maiming. Nothing we can't handle."

"I feel like the angry alien says otherwise."

"I can handle him. You don't need to—"

"Just watch me."

And Jade knows she's made a mistake as soon as the words are out of her mouth. Milagro is angry, she hears Jade's words and takes them as an insult, as a challenge. Jade wants to yell at the girl, to stop, no, I didn't mean it like that—but everything else has slowed down while she's frozen in place.

She can see the green bubble lance out from a point on Milagro's ring and surround Conner, who's getting to his feet in a daze. She can see the look in his eyes as anything resembling human thought vanishes. She can see every shudder and crack in the construct as he punches it at inhuman speeds traveling down the connection to Milagro—

And before she can scream a warning, she sees the construct shatter and hears Milagro scream.

"Mila!"

Central City Outsiders Base

Main Lab

20:12 CDT

Luthor works steadily on the treadmill, slotting part after part in place and checking the calibrations. Half of his routines are rather pointless—he's a genius, and he has full confidence in his abilities, if not West's.

But the woman watching him intently doesn't need to know that. She's already not buying his act, and even if that makes his job harder, he has to give her credit for cleverness. Not as clever as him, of course, but then again, who is?

So he does his job, and checks the treadmill all over, occasionally stopping to check the progress of a virus on another computer. He told Iris that it was running equations for part of the proper calibrations, and she believed him. All the more fool, her.

He allows himself a small, satisfied smirk when he sees how far he already is into the Pentagon systems—such as they are.

They really should have gotten rid of the missiles after the fall of the League. The Lords had been so confident in their power that they apparently never stopped to consider that should their scientists ever work up enough gumption, they could be blackmailed into stepping down or other things along those lines.

A small message onscreen is the only sign that he's gotten in, but it's enough. He quickly twists the last screw into place and hurries over to the screen.

"Well? Have you finished?"

"Calibrations, yes, calculations, no. They need to be contained on a separate server. Let me finish."

Luthor moves in front of the computer to investigate further, quickly learning that the Lords were at least intelligent enough to disable all nuclear missiles.

A point in their favor, I suppose.

No matter. An incendiary will work just as well to eliminate the remnants of the League…and while it is a pity he won't have the satisfaction of being there to see the destruction of the pitiful 'heroes' who have fought so hard for so little purpose, at least he'll be able to imagine their faces as they die.

"Well?"

Luthor quickly selects a missile and sets it to fire, but doesn't set it off. Not yet.

With all the trouble the Wests have put him through over these past two years, he wants to ensure their deaths…personally.

Arkham Asylum

Main Battle

21:12 EDT

"Cheshire!" Will yells. He takes his eyes off the Wonder duo long enough to stare at where Milagro went down, right next to his wife.

His mistake.

The next thing he knows, a golden lasso is wrapped around his ribs, pulled so tight he's having trouble breathing. He looks up to see Wonder Girl descending, eyes blazing with fury.

"I finally caught you, you bastard," she growls. "Now, before I make this tight enough to snap some of your ribs, you better tell me—what the hell did you do to my mom?"

Red Arrow had been expecting threats and interrogating questions—but not like this. He's genuinely dumbstruck for a moment, but the answer slips out as easily as he breathes. Actually, easier.

"We didn't do anything to your mother. I don't even know who she is."

He can see the demigod's eyes go wide as the lasso loosens. "No—no, you have to be lying, but you can't be, but—" Her expression fluidly and swiftly changes from shock to fury.

"Red. Robin." The name is somewhere between a growl and a hiss, and all he can think is that he's unbelievably glad it isn't him she's angry at before she rises, lasso falling away and shoots toward Tim.

Cheshire bends over Milagro's body, lightly shaking the girl. If she were religious, this is where she would start muttering please, please, please, but instead she settles for a long stream of swears and growling at the girl to wake up, dammit!

"Move," a blunt voice says from behind. Cheshire wants to spin and snap at whoever it is that she doesn't need their help—

But she only gets halfway through the action before she sees who it is and registers the face.

Guy Gardner. Green Lantern.

She's heard the gossip, of course, and he wouldn't be her first choice, but she also knows that no matter what people say about him, this is a man who knows the ring Milagro has on her finger better than she does. So Jade just steps out of the way and lets the man kneel next to Milagro.

"Her construct exploded and she collapsed." She gives him a brief rundown of the situation.

"Yeah, I saw. Wake up, girl." He slaps Milagro, on the arm, and Jade would knife him for that, except for the fact that Milagro sits up and gasps.

"¿Qué coño era eso?" she demands.

"How long have you had that ring?" Gardner demands. "Who taught you to use it?"

Mila pulls it close and scowls. "It's mine." English this time. She can't be that out of it.

"Never said it wasn't. But whoever showed you how the damn things work should have mentioned that you can't keep channeling energy into a breaking construct. If you can't hold it together, then let it go. Otherwise, it'll keep you connected to it, and when it breaks, so do you."

Milagro blinks, staring at the ring. "Oh…"

"C'mon, I know you're tired, but you need to get up." The snap in his voice pulls Milagro to her feet.

"What were you, a drill sergeant?" Mila grumbles.

"High school football coach. What are you, self-taught?"

"She is," Cheshire breaks in. "Can you help her?"

"I don't need—"

"Yes, you do. Mila, he's trained, more than you are. Listen to him." She uses the same tone she used to use on five-year-old Artemis who didn't like listening to her, either. It'll probably be getting a lot more practice once Lian becomes more mobile.

Mila glares at her.

She glares back.

The girl's glare shifts to Gardner. "You're not taking my ring."

"Not planning to. Now, can you—"

"Martian!" Jade—does not yelp, absolutely does not yelp, pointing at where M'gann's come up through the cement.

"That'll do it. Can you keep her contained?"

Milagro's look shifts to one of total concentration, and Jade decides to take the opportunity to go help her husband take down Batwoman. Looks like Earth's newest Lantern is going to be just fine.

Cassie is hurt and confused and incredibly furious.

He lied. Tim lied—to me.

Which hurts, because Tim lies to everyone, that's a fact of life, and she knows and accepts that he's been lying to her about stuff like the League and Arkham and whatever else in in those files, and that's okay because it's part of the job.

But her mother.

Her mother, Helena Sandsmark, who has been in a coma for nearly three years. Her mother, who Tim has claimed for nearly three years was a target of the Resistance. He provided video footage—and why he had her house under video surveillance, she really doesn't want to know—of Red Arrow sneaking into her home an hour before she found her mother lying on the floor of the kitchen, nearly dead.

He lied to her about her mother.

"Red Robin!" she screams at the top of her lungs, and he looks up from his hand-to-hand combat with Artemis—who's a traitor, but she can't be, because Artemis is Cassie's favorite hero and the one who's always so patient and she's too good and she can't be a traitor, she can't be, and if Tim has been lying to her this whole time about her mother what else has he been lying about?

But he looks up, he gets distracted, and Artemis knocks him down and runs, but Cassie doesn't care. She twirls her lasso and tosses it around Tim, binding him tightly, determined to wrest answers from him.

"You lied," she snarls. "You lied about my mom. And I am fed up to here with all the lies, so you better tell me the truth right now." She pulls the lasso tighter. "What. Happened. To my. Mom."

She can see him gritting his teeth and fighting her, so she pulls the lasso tighter. "Reveal your truth!" she demands, just as Donna taught her.

"Wonder Girl!"

Speak of the devil. Cassie ignores her mentor and turns her gaze on Tim, pitting her will against his.

She has Zeus's strength backing her on this. He won't win.

"Reveal. Your. Truth," she hisses.

Tim finally breaks. "Your mother was a liability. She had the ability to ground your powers, and we couldn't afford to have that interfere with the plans. I broke into your home and drugged her, then faked the video footage to make it seem like Red Arrow did it so you'd be dedicated to the cause." He meets her eyes squarely. "It was for the greater good, Cassie."

Cassie can feel Donna come to a stop in midair beside her as her eyes go hot and stingy. She's not crying. She's not.

"I hate you," she whispers as her entire life for the past three years goes brittle and blows away in the wake of his lie.

The lasso loosens, and she mechanically pulls it back and tucks it in its place.

Have to go, have to go, have to get out of here—

She flies away as fast as she can.

It's not fast enough.

Donna stares at Red Robin, feeling her world crumble.

Lies. Lies on top of lies.

There have been too many lies.

And how many have I told myself?

Unbidden, a memory springs to mind of standing before her sister, years ago, vowing herself to the crusade of peace, truth, and love.

She broke the peace herself when she was convinced to war against the world years ago. Love has just scattered and flown away.

And truth…truth has not been here for a long, long time.

No more.

She turns away, ready to fly after her younger sister and student and join her, when she hears Red Robin shout behind her.

"Superman! Wonder Girl's a traitor. Stop her!"

No!

She sees the line of heat vision, white enough to leave an afterimage on her eyelids, start over near where Conner is, headed straight for Cassie. She moves as fast as she can, crying her protégé's name.

Cassie turns, but it's not fast enough, and Donna barely gets there in time to impose her own body between the attack and her younger sister.

It's not in time to raise her gauntlets to block the attack, and her world explodes in pain.

"Donna!"

Jason doesn't recognize the tortured cry that sounds across the battlefield until he realizes it came from his own mouth. Almost immediately, he reaches for his utility belt and the Kryptonite bullet he keeps tucked away there.

One shot. He'll have to make it count.

He sees Cassie dive to catch her mentor, sees Conner dive after her, animal rage evident in every line of his body language.

He doesn't see his hands loading the gun with the specially prepared bullet. It isn't something he has to watch anymore.

The HUD in his helmet tracks the Kryptonian's movement, and it's all too easy to aim and fire.

Jason pauses long enough to take a certain grim satisfaction in the way the bullet embeds itself in the clone's leg and makes him fall to the ground before the Red Hood's off and running towards where Cassie is lowering Donna to the ground.

"Cassie!" he calls, voice rough. Up close, he can see tears in her eyes, and his heart comes to a stop before pounding faster than ever.

"She's alive," Cassie whispers. "She's hurt, but she's alive."

"Then we're not sticking around any longer." He gently picks up his girlfriend in a bridal carry, arranging her in his arms and determinedly not looking at the ugly, raw burn on her stomach. He can't do anything for it right now, and it's not worth worrying about until he can.

"What?"

"We're going to ground in Gotham. I've been thinking about getting out for a while, I'm definitely not staying now. You coming?"

"I—I—yes." He sees her eyes go hard and he's not sure whether to be glad of the help or sad that the once-happy girl now looks mad enough to spit bullets.

"Then you carry me and I carry her. I'll give you directions once we're over the water." He still keeps up safehouses, and he knows there are at least three none of the others know about.

As Cassie scoops him up under the shoulders, he looks around one last time to see who will catch them leaving—and who might stop them.

That new Green Lantern girl is getting help from Gardner to contain M'gann while Cheshire and Red Arrow keep Batwoman busy. Aquaman's busy with Static, Imp—the new Kid Flash, and the teleporty dude. Tall glowy golden dude and pink girl are taking care of the rest of the guards. Flash is running around the battlefield and interfering with almost every fight on the side of the rebellion. Streaks and shapes of blue and green are attacking each other on the other side. Superman's on the ground, thrashing and roaring as Red Robin tries to get close enough to dig the bullet out. Take that, you bastards.

Only one person is missing.

Nightwing's not there to watch them go.

Artemis doesn't run down the hall. Running draws attention, something she can't afford, even with whatever's happening on the surface.

But she moves quickly, blood pounding in her ears as she turns the last corner, and releases a quick exhale of relief when she sees that that three of the cells have the missing League members in them. Finally.

She's at the door of Captain Atom's cell, completely absorbed in the key pad, when it happens.

Artemis has been wounded before—arrow tips, swords, javelins, even. She's been sliced and diced enough times to be in an infomercial.

But she's never felt pain like this.

It feels as though a blade of fire has entered her spine, just above her hips, and proceeded to shoot flaming pain up her torso. The metal, contradictorily, is like ice where it scrapes against her bones as she stiffens and gasps. Her eyes seize onto her reflection in the glass—and the domino mask just over her left shoulder.

"And how does it feel when you're on the other side of the knife in the back, Artemis?"

Nightwing's voice is the last thing she hears, and it echoes around her ears as lifeless legs collapse beneath her. Dimly, she thinks she might hear a scream, but it doesn't seem to stick in her head as the darkness buries her mind.

Wally stares at Artemis's collapsing form, knife still buried in the bare, exposed skin beneath her uniform as red liquid starts to trickle and spread. Nightwing turns around as a loud, unearthly scream echoes around the room.

"Artemis!"

Wally doesn't realize that it's his own voice until it dies away and the inside of his throat is hoarse.

His eyes fill with so much red that one part of his mind, that's somehow disengaged, absently notes that it could be tunnel vision, all focused on Dick's face.

Then that, too, clouds over, and he doesn't see anything for a while.

His awareness returns as his fist lands on Nightwing's face, now bruised, swollen, and lacking a mask. With the black and white cloth once covering them now torn away, Wally can see that the man's eyes are bleary and unfocused. His teeth look like they've been loosened from a few good strikes already, and Wally decides that a few more wouldn't be out of place.

But there's someone on the other end of the comm, shouting at him.

"Flash. Flash. FLASH. WALLY!"

It's Aunt Iris, and her voice brings on a swell of anger as he remembers what happened to her.

It couldn't have been Dick's fault, but he punches him one more time for good measure.

"What?" he yells down the device, keeping the other man held up by the collar of his uniform.

"Thank god, we've been trying to get your attention for five minutes. Wally, it's done, the treadmill's ready, you need to get back to the lab, now."

Wally clenches his jaw and fist again. "Not yet."

His too-damn-perceptive aunt knows his tone. "Wally, what happened?"

"Nightwing." He gulps in air, trying to brace himself to speak the next words. "Artemis—she—and he—and now—"

"Oh, honey…"

And her voice is stricken and he can hear her pity, but there isn't enough, because she couldn't tell and doesn't know and—

"He killed her! He stabbed her, and she's bleeding, and he killed Artemis!" he yells into the comm.

There's silence, and he can almost picture the expression on his aunt's face, but he can't, because he's so angry and Artemis is dead and it's the Failsafe situation all over again except the only person he can kill in revenge is right in front of his fist and he knows how fast he can move, and it would be so easy—

But then Dick's unconscious head lolls a little to one side, and Wally sees too many old memories in his former friend's abused face, and he can't. He lowers his fist and snarls, and it feels so good that he does it again.

"Flash."

"Luthor, whatever you've got to say, I don't want to hear it."

"Killing him would be a waste of time and effort."

Somehow, this makes the most impact out of anything so far, but the fact that Luthor is saying it immediately makes him want to disregard it. "He. Killed. Artemis."

"And if you want even a chance at saving her, Flash—you need to run."

His eyes burn under the cowl as he gets to his feet, and his mind ties together the two concepts—run, save Artemis—so quickly that he winds up halfway over Gotham Harbor before he realizes that he's still holding up Dick.

Wally grits his teeth, reminds himself that dumping the man out in the harbor would kill him, and settles for running past the fancy mansion neighborhood and dropping Nightwing's still-breathing body there.

Then, there is nothing but the wind on his face and the movement of his legs and the grief burning at the back of his mind as he runs faster than he ever has before, straight for Central City.

Chapter Text

Somewhere on the Surface of the Earth

In an uncertain time zone that corresponds with 21:42 EDT

At least it's still March 19 th (Or is it?)

Wally runs.

He runs, and his legs are burning, his eyes are streaming under the cowl, and his entire body is thrumming with an energy he hasn't felt since that day in the Arctic, but he doesn't care.

He runs, and runs, and runs, and doesn't stop, but he can't outrun the sickening whisper at the back of his mind on repeat that chants, Artemis is dead, Artemis is dead, your fault, your fault, not fast enough, never fast enough, Artemis is dead—

He runs faster, and even he is not sure how long he runs. He could have run around the world, he could be less than five steps from Gotham, because the world is more of a blur than ever before and he can't tell.

He runs, and the world falls away, but the horrible, sickening knowledge that the woman he loves is dead refuses to leave his mind.

He runs, and does not think, and for a few brief moments, he is almost free.

Central City

March 19 th

20:45 CDT

Luthor waits next to the treadmill, the product of nearly two years of hard work and calculations. His fingers tingle at the memory of that all-encompassing euphoric sensation of power that comes with defying the universe, with creating the impossible like no one else can do.

He is every bit as skilled as his predecessor, and defying the rules of the universe with impossible schemes has always been their specialty.

He's manipulated society and people to his whims countless times, defied the construct and idea of space and a confined universe over and over, and shattered every rule that has ever been thrown at him. What is the idea of time as a constant to that?

Well, of course, it would be nothing if the machine actually worked. Why would he want the world to go back to the way it was? If it did, then he'd be nothing more than a clone in a pod in a hidden basement of Cadmus, a stringless puppet, never to be brought out and given life of his own.

He has tested the machine, of course, with excess energy channeled from the virtual reality machine. A single apple had been sent back a day, and another one had been sent forward.

Interestingly enough, the one sent forward, he found, but the one sent back he has no memory of seeing. Clearly, time travel doesn't work the same in the other direction.

He still has no idea where the apple went. Another dimension, perhaps.

But even if sending the speedster back would pose no threat to him, he still would never do it. He is Luthor—not Lionel, not Lex, nor any other who came before him. He is himself, and he will make sure the world knows his name.

And he will start making his mark with something even his predecessor was never able to do—eradicating the heroes of the world in a single day.

Wally finally stops when his mind's been exhausted, if not his body. There's too much energy running through him to feel tired. Is this how running is supposed to feel? Like there's all this power racing through him, and he can't control it? Like he's just a vessel, channeling pure energy?

He skids to a halt within the mausoleum, legs shaking. Or maybe that's his hands. Or his head. Or his eyes. Or the building. Is there an earthquake? But Central isn't on any fault lines—

"Wally."

Iris's voice breaks his cycle of internal rambling, but it doesn't help, since his head just goes back to a blurry picture of blonde and green and too-bright crimson against gray.

"Lab?" he grits out, looking towards the hallway, because he can't look at Iris's eyes and the look he knows is in them.

"Yes."

He barely hears the confirmation leave her mouth before he's off again at top speed, doing his best to stop thinking.

Iris reaches the lab long after Wally, who's already begun running on the treadmill. She stops in the doorway, inhaling at the sight of the red-and-yellow ball lightning crackling around the treadmill, human form just barely visible inside. Luthor stands behind the blast shield, slowly raising the level of energy being poured into the machine.

Iris glances over his setup, checking for irregularities, but nothing seems out of place—until she sees the screen on the far right.

A small red dot is moving from a location somewhere in Cuba, heading directly for—

Arkham. Those readings—those are missile readings!

"Luthor, what have you done?!"

He turns around and sighs, lightly, as though he's just been told that a store is out of his favorite coffee.

"Oh, dear, I suppose you've caught me. I was really hoping it wouldn't come to this. It would have been much more fun watching the horror on your face as you slowly realized everything was going wrong." His voice continues to remain light and careless and he strolls closer and she steps back. "But, I suppose I'll just have to settle…" As she watches, his lips curl, his eyes go wild and angry, and his face becomes truly terrifying. "For watching you burn."

He lunges forward at a speed that scares her for three seconds until a heavy object collides with the back of her head and the world falls away.

Luthor studies the red stain on the wrench as the woman falls to the floor, and sighs again. And it had been going so well, too.

No matter. No one is left in this facility besides him and the various Wests, and there will be no interference from them. Never again, in fact.

The latest incompetent imbecile to wear the red uniform doesn't seem to have noticed, too caught up in running on the treadmill. Perhaps the energy made it difficult to see.

He would have managed.

Somehow, he must find a way to redesign the treadmill so he can use it.

But for now…

Luthor plants an explosive on the virtual reality device that's wired with another one already planted on the treadmill. There won't be an explosion adequate enough for him to see, but, oh well. Sometimes that's just the way things go.

Wally is energy, and he is everything.

Forget the way he felt when he ran over. This is running—there is no exhaustion, no ache, no awareness of anything but his feet hitting a surface beneath him and the rush of adrenaline and the whoosh of wind blown up by his air resistance.

Wally is energy, and he reaches for nothing.

And this is where the timeline splits.

In one universe, he has already vanished into the strange world of white lightning, chasing his last memory of seeing Artemis safe and happy and whole. In one universe, he succeeds, as he sometimes does. In one universe, he reaches her in that blank white plain, just in time to see himself fade away to nothing. In one universe, he hurts and heals and tries to trust again—but it will take him a long, long time before he can look at a domino mask without a shudder of fear quaking its way down his spine. In one universe, he goes with Artemis into that fateful mission, and gets her out in time, and they both make a wonderful and terrifying discovery at the hospital together. In one universe, Wally hurts and struggles and lies until his tongue is twisted, hiding the terrible truth from his teammates, because he cannot trust them just yet. In one universe, things happen as they were meant to, until Wally lets his walls fall, and finds peace in sharing, and even more peace in the horrified, apologetic, scared reactions of his teammates that prove to himself once and for all that he doesn't have to be afraid anymore. In one universe, life goes on, until Wally remembers these terrifying days as little more than a cautionary nightmare that lies faded and forgotten at the back of his mind.

But that is not this universe, and that is a story for another time.

In this universe, Wally continues to do what he always does.

He tries.

He remembers that blank nothingness from before now, the white and lighting and motionenergyspeed that sucked him in and made him part of it. He needs to reach it again, is desperate to reach it again, can almost feel it as the energy races through and almost consumes him as he desperately tries to find a way out, out of reality, back to a place where everything is movement and forgetting and nothing hurts.

But he can't forget, can't let go, because the image of bleeding-hurt-dead Artemis and blonde on green on red on gray won't leave his mind, and he wants to stay, but he needs to go, and nothing is cooperating and everything hurts.

Before, it was so hard to hold on.

Now, it's too hard to let go.

So when the blast and accompanying explosion of white and red penetrates his lightning shell, he actually welcomes it for the briefest of moments before he goes flying backwards off the treadmill and the dark pulls him under.

"Is he dead?"

"I dunno."

"Why not?"

"How am I supposed to know?"

"Cuz you're the smart one."

"And you're the annoying one."

"Hey!"

"Oh hey, his eyes are moving."

"Told you you were the smart one."

"Shut up, Don, you're a jerk."

"You're a jerk."

"Do you think we shoulda not taken off the cowl?"

"Too late to worry about it."

"Hey, mister, can you hear us?"

Wally groans. Everything hurts and he knows his eyes are open, but it doesn't seem to matter. It's all dark anyway.

"Why's it so dark?"

"I dunno. It was day, like, a second ago."

"Well, it's been longer than a second, actually."

"Don, you're such a geek."

"Shut up."

"Who is he, anyway? I thought Mom said Dad had blond hair. "

"Maybe he dyed it."

"Don' have kids," Wally manages to mutter.

"Hey, he said something!"

"So is this like, a new exercise or something? 'Cause we totally mastered first-aid already."

"Maybe we should diagnose. Can you get his eyes open?"

"They are open."

"Oh. Well, it's dark in here, you can't tell!"

"I'll find a flashlight!"

There's a whoosh, and one of the shadows hovering in Wally's line of vision vanishes. The other one starts poking at his arms and legs at a speed that makes it feel like they're doing it with twenty fingers. His groan of protest makes the poking stop for about five seconds before it starts up again.

The other shadow reappears with an object in its hands.

"Good news, sis! No broken bones. I think. But he keeps making these weird noises."

"Could have a concussion. Here, I found this."

Wally dimly registers the second shadow lifting their cylindrical object before a whoosh of flame bursts out way too close to his face and he is suddenly very, very aware. "Holycrap!"

He scoots backward on his butt, away from the fire, as fast as he can. It goes out, but the afterimage lingers on his eyelids. He has a vague memory of seeing two almost identical faces with identical shocks of long red hair.

His speed healing kicks in, ensuring that his mind is finally caught up to speed. "Oh, shit." Wait. They're two year olds. Should he be swearing around two year olds?

"What's that mean?" Okay. That voice is male.

"Something bad, probably." Female.

"Don? Dawn?" he asks rubbing his head and freezing for an instant when he touches his eyes.

Oh, right, cowl's off.

He pulls the red material back over his eyes and lets the filters in the lenses provide basic night vision.

The vague forms of Dawn and Don Allen, lit by green lines, show up quite clearly, and Wally groans as the full impact of the situation hits him. Crap.

"Hey, Dawn, he's doing that thing again!"

"Maybe we should try checking him for concussion again," and her hand is moving back towards the cylinder.

"No!" Wally doesn't yelp, no he doesn't. He just…vocally protests. In a somewhat shrill manner. "Geez, don't you guys know that fire is dangerous?"

Now they're looking at him like he's an idiot. Great.

It takes him a quick (haha) conversation in speedtalk to convince the twins that no, they're not in the VR anymore, and a slightly longer one to convince them that yes, everything is out to hurt them.

He's not sure they believe him, but it's at that point that he realizes he doesn't recognize his surroundings and takes the time for a quick panic attack because what if he traveled in time again and oh crap he could not handle that—

But he finds a computer in the corner that was apparently shielded from the explosion and checks to confirm that the date is the same as it was the last time he was conscious. Cue massive sigh of relief.

"Hey, mister! Who's this?"

Wally looks up to see the twins kneeling in a different corner, behind the remains of the blast screen. It takes him three seconds to get there, two to get them to move, you two, and only one to identify his aunt. Oh, man, Iris….

She stirs under his fingers, and asks him something in a weak voice that's too slow for him to hear. He forces himself to lose speed in time to hear her ask, "Wa…ly?"

"I'm here, Aunt I. It's gonna be okay."

"No…" she blinks and struggles to sit up. "Missile….Arkham…that bastard…" she blinks again at the two other redheads flanking him. "Don? Dawn?"

"Mom?" Don whispers. Dawn carefully reaches out to touch her mother's hair.

Wally doesn't pay attention to the twins meeting Iris face to face for the first time. His eyes are immediately drawn to a red dot moving up the coastline directly towards Arkham.

Missile…

That bastard.

"Don, Dawn, grab anything you can't stand to leave behind and follow me." Wally stands up, carefully shifting Iris in his arms so her head was cradled against his shoulders. "We need to run."

She is cold.

She is cold as she swims through a sea of darkness. She is cold, except for the pain that burns up her spine like fire. Her legs are ice as cold as her surroundings.

She chases the sparks of lighting dancing in the distance, trying desperately to reach them before they fade away. She knows they will, that they always fade and vanish before she can reach them, but she can't stop trying.

There is a growling behind her, and when she turns, she can see a tiger slipping through the shadows, drawing ever closer.

She reaches for her bow, for her last line of defense, but it is not there, and she is left desperately clawing her way through the frigid blackness, trying to escape.

Ahead, a cat face fades into her vision, only to vanish a moment later as though it never existed.

And still, she chases the lightning, fighting her way through the cold to escape the firey pain burning through her.

Arkham Asylum

March 19th

21:56 EDT

Red Robin finishes fishing the bullet out, resolving to find some way to adjust the shields so they don't make Conner quite so animalistic. But that will have to wait until this little rebellion has been—

His communicator starts going off, and he turns it on irritably. "Red Robin."

"Red, you've got a missile heading straight for your location. ETA seven minutes. I'd high-tail it out of there if I were you."

"A missile? Nuclear?"

"No. Readings are all wrong. Either way, it hits, you're dead."

"Got it. Red Robin out."

He closes the channel and starts up an open communications line with the rest of the League.

"Red Robin to Justice Lords. Guardian says there's a missile incoming. We get out, now. Flight evac protocols."

Affirmatives start coming in, but he's too busy shaking Zatanna to wake her up. His wings won't get him clear of the explosion in time. She's his ride out of here.

Jaime dodges the incoming angry elephant, trying to get Beast Boy to listen. "Look, hermano, I know you're upset, I just need you to listen to me—"

The elephant shrinks into a deadly, graceful tiger and releases a growl that Jaime is sure means hello, lunch, in tiger.

"You didn't listen to me!" he snarls, changing back to human. His form has become less monkey-like, with pointed ears and spikes on his hands and a fang that has a tendency to poke out from his lips. The tail that whips around behind is back still looks prehensile, but Jaime knows from experience that there's a rather painful stinger at the end of it. "I asked you, just once, to help me make sure things went right! M'gann promised, she promised, and now it's never going to happen!"

Wha…?

Jaime's memories from the past few weeks are still a little fuzzy, but he can just recall—with Khaji's help—that Garfield had come up to him right after Wally came back and asked (begged, honestly—he actually changed into a little kitten and gave him the face, Jaime is not kidding—) him to make sure everything stayed kinda quiet and smooth for the next week.

"Seriously, Beast Boy? You really think whatever special thing you were trying to get M'gann to do is more important than ending all this?" Jaime doesn't even know what to indicate, so he settles for a wide, sweeping gesture.

"This is you hurting people!" Garfield yells, tail twitching agitatedly back and forth. "Things were fine! Things were good, the villains are gone. Everything was getting better until you decided to just start attacking innocent civilians!"

"Wha—innocent?" Even when Khaji confirms he heard correctly, Jaime's still baffled. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Beast Boy shifts to gorilla and lunges at Jaime with an animalistic growl. Blue Beetle dodges, and the changeling spins around upon landing and keeps talking. "You all think I'm some kind of stupid kid. 'Oh, Beast Boy can't be sad or worried or actually care about something important.' You all do it!" His tail is whipping agitatedly back and forth. "Well, I'm not. I know what I'm doing, and I'm not going to let you keep hurting those scientists!"

"They're not scientists, Beast Boy. Don't you see what's going on here? They're the Justice League!"

The green-furred teen's entire manner changes, noticeably drooping. But—he doesn't look surprised.

"M'gann was right. They got to you too."

"What? No, no, I—"

But Beast Boy isn't listening to him anymore. His head's cocked to one side, as though something's being transmitted.

"You should get off the island," he says, quietly, before changing into a bird and flying away.

He mutters something else that only Khaji catches, and after puzzling over, decides that it has no bearing on the present situation or any other. Based on this observation, unit Khaji Da refrains from sharing it with his already-distracted host.

Still, he saves the words in his memory banks, in case they come in handy later.

"Sorry, coma girl. I tried."

M'gann ducks and attempts to phase through the bubble, but it doesn't go so well. Phasing through Oan energy is hard enough when she isn't hu—tired. She's just tired. From being knocked out. That's the only reason she has a headache. And why the world is spinning. She hasn't had a proper sleep in years, and won't be able to have one until these miscreants have been taken down.

She tries again, but a bolt of pain shoots through her skull and she almost collapses.

Must be the effect of having to reach out to the Starrotech now that Zatanna's down. That has to be it.

Gritting her teeth, the telepath reaches out psychically to take control of Gardner and the rest, but changes her mind after she can't—after she can't see the use of taking control, of course! It would be so much simpler to—

"Red Robin to Justice Lords. Guardian says there's a missile incoming. We get out, now. Flight evac protocols."

Now she even has a reason. There's no point preserving the minds of those who won't even be around after this. She reaches out for all her ties to the minds of the League—it's harder than it used to be, the Starrotech must be interfering—and sends out an impossibly strong mental pulse to snap their minds. Over and done with.

Gardner cries out and grabs his head, as do the rest of the hospital-gown-garbed heroes, and as Milagro turns to her new teacher to check his well-being, her concentration slips. M'gann makes the easy color spectrum shift from white to yellow for an extra boost and shoves her way through, heading up and off the island.

Something nags at the back of her head, but it's swallowed by the dizziness, general aches, and intense need to get away from the soon-to-be-exploding island.

Kaldur growls after the message comes in to evacuate, but not because of the transmission. He growls because it does not seem to matter how much sorcerous power he throws at the three children currently attacking him, they are infuriatingly persistent.

He has other priorities now. These idiots may stay and burn for the things they have done and the problems they have caused, but the soldiers in this facility are innocent. He has an immediate evacuation to arrange.

So, as soon as the other Lords have cleared out, he summons a tidal wave large enough to flood halfway up the island. The Atlantian soldiers who came out of Static's attack intact rise up to meet him as he sinks into the water.

[[There is an explosive projectile approaching the island. Find all the guards stationed here and evacuate with them to at least a two-mile radius]] he orders in Atlantian.

They snap to attention before going off to execute those orders. He allows himself one moment—one moment to close his eyes, think about what might have been, and mourn it as well. One moment of remorse, of regret. One moment of weakness.

Then he opens his eyes, forces his stoic expression to settle back into place, and goes to establish a perimeter.

Cheshire starts to get suspicious when Artemis doesn't come back. When a red blur zips by her so fast that she barely registers it, the suspicion grows. By the time M'gann takes off out of the corner of her eye and Superman grabs Batwoman right out of their fight, it's full-blown paranoia.

"Cover me, Red. I'm going to find Artemis." She darts off into the depths of the basement, not even waiting to hear his affirmation. There is a part of her—a tiny, tiny part—that shrieks in fear and disgust at how much she can trust another person, like that, to watch her back automatically. That is the part that shrinks away from the way the rest of her revels in that trust, that security, the way she takes it for granted. That is that part that whispers, it won't last. It never lasts. You can only trust yourself, he will betray you—

That is the part that listened to Lawrence. That still listens to him.

The other part, the one in control, the one she listens to, is the one that has fought side by side with Red Arrow for five years. The one that held Lian and Paul close and promised them a better childhood than she had. The one that watched over Milagro as she slept, and decided to start caring about the tough, lonely Hispanic girl without permission from her.

The one that had screamed at her to not abandon Artemis all that time ago. The same part screaming at her now that something is very, very wrong.

The same part that grinds to a halt when she sees her little sister collapsed on the floor with blood pooling beneath her.

The rational, trained part of her mind immediately takes over, and as soon as she feels a pulse beneath her fingers—a faint, weak, pulse, but proof of a beating heart nevertheless—everything dissolves into a blur of tearing the hem of her kimono and vowing vengeance on whomever did this.

Given the absence of another person, or even another body, she has a feeling that Wally might have already taken care of that.

Not long after she's finished binding the wound, Jade hears the sound of a fist hitting the wall and a soft curse before Will comes and sits down next to her. His knuckles are bleeding. Neither of them comments.

There is quiet in the hall—a familiar quiet.

It's the quiet that comes after a battle, when all the shoes have dropped and there's nothing you can do but wait for them to be restrung.

At some point, they'll both have to get up, and keep going, but right now, Jade is tired, and her sister has come too close to death for the umpteenth time, and she doesn't want to think about how deep the wound goes.

The world is quiet, for now, and Jade's eyes are burning, and she wants nothing more than to go to sleep for a very long time and hope that things make sense when she wakes up.

"How is she?"

"She's alive." Jade sits back, removes her mask, and looks up at him. "It didn't work."

"Or it did, and we'll just never know." He absently begins to stroke Artemis's ponytail. "The Lords have left."

"Guess that means something big is going down." But Jade honestly can't bring herself to care at this point. She's tired. Why is she so tired? "I thought things would be different. Even if we weren't around to see them. Something would…feel different."

Will shrugs and lays a hand on hers. "I talked to Bart. Before we left. He said something about time travel creating…alternate realities. Otherwise, there would be a paradox. So somewhere, it did work. He made it back. All this never happened."

"I guess it's just not here."

"Nope."

They sit there in silence for a while, Jade trying to comfort herself with the sound of Artemis's faint breathing.

"I'm going to go let the Leaguers out. I've had enough of this chxo' of an island."

He stands up and moves away, untangling their fingers that somehow twined together when she wasn't paying attention.

She doesn't get up. Not yet.

Will moves to the keypad of Captain Atom's cell—the man inside is asleep, of all things—and doesn't even bother trying to work it out. He has several plain, sharp-tipped arrows left, and settles for just driving one in. A shower of sparks bursts out of it, along with a puff of smoke, and he has to use another arrow to break the smoke detector.

"Jailbreak, Captain. Time to wake up."

No response.

"Captain Atom."

No response.

He stalks inside and grabs the man by the shoulder, and frowns when all he receives in response is a gaze that's even blanker than it usually is.

The archer's first thought is, I have a bad feeling about this…

The second: Damn Wally for making me watch those movies.

Will checks on Plastic Man, the only other one with a cell of his own, to find him only mildly tranquilized and waking up, thankfully. He hauls the meta out into the cleaner air of the hallway and dumps him there to recover.

But the last cell has Hal Jordan, Orin, Augustus Freeman, Billy Batson, Ray Palmer, and Katar Hol, all with the same blank-eyed expressions.

Dammit….

Then Bart comes speeding down desperately with news about a missile approaching the island, and he has about ten seconds to start swearing and thank every deity above that Lian and Paul are safe before his world dissolves.

Milagro holds Guy Gardner up, with her aura enhancing her strength (thank you Mr. Gardner for just teaching her how to do that), as he groans and holds his head. Miss Martian escapes, but she doesn't particularly care at the moment.

"Mr. Gardner? You ok, sir?"

"Fine, fine…just got a whopper of a headache." He rubs his forehead again, looks up, and frowns. "Where'd the Martian go?"

"Dunno. She flew off. So'd the others."

"That can't be good."

"It isn't."

The new voice from directly behind them makes both the current and former Green Lanterns flinch and spin around, right arms at the ready. Gardner curses and lowers his arm when he realizes he doesn't have his ring, and again when he sees who it is.

"Bruce Wayne?" Milagro asked, surprised.

"Hang on, you're Batman?"

The battered man dressed in only a hospital gown and a single slipper sends Gardner a glare that answers his question quite handily and dissuades him from asking any further ones.

"What's the date?"

Milagro blinks and points at herself.

"Yes, you."

"Um, March 19th."

"And the year?"

"…2019."

His eyes widen by a fraction before narrowing in calculation.

Milagro looks around and swallows hard as she sees more heroes making their way over.

That's Black Canary, I know her anywhere—so the guy leaning on her shoulder has gotta be Green Arrow…hang on, is that Oliver Queen? Focus, Mila, this is no time to—dios mio, that's John Stewart, sagrado mierda—and Hawkwoman! This is the coolest day of my—

She doesn't notice her still-muted ring flashing in a pattern that makes the two other former Lanterns in the vicinity immediately jolt straight up and start eying the sky.

At least, until there's a distinct whine overhead and her mind goes totally, utterly blank.

No, no, no, Querido Dios en el cielo, por favor no ...

Milagro brings up her ring and desperately attempts to focus enough to form a protective dome, but something tells her it's never going to happen in time. She looks around for Jaime one last time, but when she can't see him, she squeezes her eyes shut.

She doesn't want to see what she knows is coming as soon as the ground vanishes from beneath her feet.

Barry Allen has the distinct feeling of waking up from a long nap when the Starrotech deactivates and he finds himself standing in the middle of a bare examination room. His legs are shaking under him and he doesn't trust himself to safely use his speed when his brain hasn't caught up yet, so he has to settle for walking forward out into an equally bare hallway.

There're chunks of steel on the floor that look like they came out on the wrong side of an explosion. A couple are still smoking.

What the hell…oh. Arkham. Right.

His brain is still fogged, so it takes him another minute to go from that thought to, Dammit, Arkham!

The last thing he remembers is being restrained by his wrists and ankles to a table while M'gann assaulted him psychically and Dick assaulted him verbally. Neither are pleasant memories, so he chooses to forgo them in favor of figuring a way out of here.

Regrettably, he knows the fuzzy feeling in his legs and head from an encounter with the Pied Piper that had a particularly bad outcome. Running before he readjusts could be a spectacularly bad idea.

So he walks forward on shaking legs, keeping one hand on the wall—partly so he doesn't get lost, partly because he needs the support, darnit.

There's a familiar whoosh, and a red streak shoots close enough to his nose to take it off, heading to his left.

For a moment, Barry's too stunned to do anything more than stare, before his brain catches up faster than his legs and he takes off running after the figure—

—only to trip on tangled legs, skid, and fall flat on his face.

Ow.

If this is what Wally used to feel like, when he was learning to accelerate and decelerate—something Barry had no experience with, something Jay had to teach him—then his respect for his nephew ticks up a few more notches.

Of course, thinking about Wally immediately drives home a sharp spike of pain that has nothing to do with the speed-healing.

Don't think about it. Keep moving.

It's what got him through those three months without Wally. It's what got him through those brief moments of lucidity after—

Oh, God, Iris…

No. No thinking. Just moving.

His legs become readjusted to supporting his weight as he moves towards the exit, following the faint scorch mark on the floor created by the passage of a speedster.

And that is a puzzle in itself. Part of his mind is already crying out that it's Wally, of course it's Wally, who else could it be?

But the rest is shutting that part down very firmly. It isn't Wally. It can't be Wally.

Thinking that way only leads to more heartbreak. No thinking. Just moving.

By the time he's reached the opening to what looks like the scene of a battle, his legs are no longer shaking and he thinks he might be ready to run—

And then he sees the missile, and might is no longer an option.

Barry runs.

His legs are still wobbly, but he can pick up enough speed to keep moving, and he makes a beeline for the young woman with the Green Lantern ring, determined to get her off first. Before he can reach her, a pair of blurred purple figures dart in and haul her out of sight.

He almost trips, but stays on his feet and changes course enough to grab Gardner and follow the trail left on the water.

It leads across the harbor to a little cove that already has three other people in it, so he dumps the man and goes back for more.

As he runs back across the water, feet burning from both the saltwater and speedhealing, he glances to the side and spots another figure, wearing…his old costume?

Whoever it was looks over at him, and gives him a sheepish, cocky grin—from the skin tone, he thinks the person is African-American—and he'll swear they wink, though he can't see it under the cowl. The unknown puts on another burst of speed and shoots back towards the island. Barry, shaking his head, does the same.

Wally's feet drum against the water, and he's almost enjoying the feeling of the water resistance slapping at his soles. He lets out a short laugh as he pulls up to the island, grabs Dinah and Oliver, and immediately shoots back towards the mainland.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spies Don and Dawn working together to carry off John Stewart and Shayera Hol. Clark, the only other person with superspeed, has caught on and is flying Bruce Wayne out as well.

With five people, we might actually be able to pull this off.

A blur of yellow and red that he dimly recognizes as Bart's Kid Flash costume makes him adjust that number to six. We have a pretty good chance of pulling this off.

But even with the world slowed down to something that could barely be called a crawl around him, he can still see the missile approaching.

So there's nothing to do but move faster.

The next time he passes Bart, the younger speedster yells something about "the basement!" and since everyone's cleared out from the top level, he heads down there next without thinking.

Which is why he finds himself in the same hallway as Artemis's body.

There's a bunch of not-quite-conscious Leaguers in the corner, so he grits his teeth, and forces himself to focus on getting Plastic Man out of there and not looking at Artemis.

Or, at least, that's the plan until he goes back in for the last person (Hal Jordan) and sees her eyelids flutter.

She's alive!

The thought doesn't register until he's over the water, and he nearly falls over, but he manages to right himself in time and moves faster than ever.

Even before Hal's body hits the beach, he's off again, racing into the basement where his world fell apart.

He thinks he vibrates through a few walls on his way. He also thinks there are explosions.

But soon enough, Artemis is tucked into his arms, bridal-style, as he outraces the missile exploding behind them.

She isn't cold anymore.

Turns out she didn't need to chase the lightning. She just had to wait for it to catch up with her.

The pain is hot, but the lightning is warm as it tingles and soothes the hurt away.

The lightning spreads everywhere except her legs.

Her icy, numb, legs.

The lightning starts to fade, and she panics. The lightning can't go. It can't. Bad things will happen.

And she's cold again.

So cold…

Wally holds Artemis close to him as he stands among the crowd of heroes. Most of the others are dizzy and dazed, and probably wondering how they could have been standing on the island a second ago (from their perspectives) and on the mainland the next.

Then the missile hits, and he's almost amused to see that even dazed after two and a half years of coma-land, all the heroes react immediately to the explosion.

After the initial sound blast that nearly blows out his eardrums and the accompanying force, it's almost pretty to watch the red-lit smoke drift up into the sky like a second sunset. Although he knows for sure that the entire island was evacuated, he still feels the instincts drummed into him by years of hero-ing that he has to go in there and fix it.

But really, at this point, there's nothing to fix.

Wally shifts his arms a bit to settle Artemis a bit more snugly against his chest. The time machine didn't work. Arkham is down for good. They lost. They won.

They came so close to doing neither.

So even though there are a thousand things they need to be doing, even though Barry is starting to look at him in a way that makes him feel like he's been a bad puppy, even though Artemis still hasn't woken up—

Hang on a sec.

Wally grins as he realizes he's unconsciously shifted his arms to account for the fact that she's cuddling up to him.

"Hey, babe," he whispers, placing a small kiss on her cheek. She just grumbles and turns her face into his suit.

And he has a feeling that everything's gonna be okay.

Chapter Text

Gotham City

March 19 th

22:03 EDT

Stephanie Brown is having a dream. It's a nice dream. Something about sleeping in a field of clouds…

A dull boom echoes through the cloud field, and she just groans and plants her face deeper. No booms. This is sleepy time.

A hand shakes her shoulder and she swats it away, but the person just dodges and keeps shaking.

"Steph."

Aw…Cass…

"No, Cass. I told you. The demon brat went to bed early, I'm going to bed early." She turns over and pulls the covers over her head. It's been more than a week, why does she still have jet lag?

"Steph. Kitchen…boom."

Stephanie, still groggy from sleep, somehow catches that there's something in there she should listen to. She wriggles out from under the covers, pushing blonde hair out of deep blue eyes with a yawn. "What?"

"Boom. Kitchen." Cassandra's dark eyes are worried.

"Oh, CRAP!" Stephanie's eyes go wide. She's out of bed instantly and racing to the small kitchenette of their crappy apartment. "Cass, I told you, you're not allowed to use the…"

Her voice trails off as she stops in the doorway of the (blessedly) undamaged kitchen area. The only unique feature of this apartment is a window in the living room/kitchen/armory combo that boasts a view of Gotham Harbor.

Gotham Harbor…where a plume of smoke all too reminiscent of the drone strikes she saw in Bialya rises into the air, lit by flames.

"…microwave."

"Didn't," Cass says from where she's crept up next to Stephanie. The taller girl isn't even surprised anymore, Cass moves like a damn shadow.

Dammit.

"Go wake Damian, will you?" Steph rubs her eyes as she steps over the sword in the middle of the living room, heading for the radio.

"There is no need for that, Brown. I am already awake." Stephanie resists the urge to snicker—Damian's tone is far too imperious for a ten-year-old in Batman pjs rubbing sleep out of his eyes. "What is going on?"

"Arkham blew up," Stephanie responds as she fiddles with the radio. "Gah, it's busted. Stupid piece of junk."

"You…fix?" Cass asks, coming over to look at it. She doesn't like talk radio, but she knows Steph does.

"Nah, not me. I'll drop by Harper's tomorrow, let her know I'm alive, see if she can do something about it." Stephanie lets out a gusty sigh, grabs a hairtie, and pulls her still-damp locks into a ponytail. "Guess that leaves going to check it out on foot. I'm gonna grab coffee, too, anyone else want—okay, Damian, if you keep glaring at me like that, I'm not getting you anything."

"I am coming with you, Brown."

"Um, no, you're not." Stephanie tries to step around the tiny assassin to be cornered by a (slightly) less tiny assassin. Cass wears an expression both serene and steely on her Asian features.

"We…go…with you."

And okay, Steph is not facing off against two trained assassins, one of whom comes equipped with the most pathetic puppy eyes ever, especially since it'll be easier to do damage control if she doesn't have to try to figure out where they went after they inevitably sneak out.

"Fine. Wear normal people clothes. And Damian?"

"Tt."

"No swords."

In another part of Gotham City, the area colloquially known as "Crime Alley," Cassandra Sandsmark follows Jason Todd towards a recently refurbished warehouse, worrying her lip and pulling the leather jacket Jason loaned her a little tighter around her shoulders. When they had landed earlier in a back alley, he had tossed her his jacket to hide the logo on her shirt. His own Kevlar top had been turned inside out and slid over Donna's torso, leaving him with a red undershirt.

Listening to her mentor whimper in unconscious pain as the rough material scraped the raw burn was something she never wanted to do again, but it had done the job. With Jason's helmet and domino mask (paranoid much?) tucked onto Donna's lap and looking like little more than a motorcycle helmet, they appear normal enough.

"Cassie, c'mon!"

Cassandra looks around in a minor panic before she spots a gloved hand sticking out of the only patch of shadow in an otherwise well-lit alley. Turns out it conceals a surprisingly complicated door.

"Need a DNA sample. Hold Donna for me."

Cassie automatically sticks out her arms to hold her mentor as Jason carefully hands the unconscious woman over. Adjusting her grip distracts the blonde long enough for Jason to pull several strands of her hair out.

"Ow!"

"Sorry-not-sorry—I told you, I need a DNA sample, and it's either this or some blood."

"How come you don't have to take any of Donna's DNA?" Cassie grumbles.

"…" Jason very carefully does not respond.

"Oh my god. Okay, is there anything I can touch in there before it's disinfected?"

"Pretty sure I cleaned most of it up after last time. Might wanna avoid the shower on the left side, though."

"…There are some things I never needed to know about your relationship and most of them were in that last sentence."

Jason doesn't even bother to snort as he opens the door and ushers her inside, flicking on the light switch afterwards. "Couch. I'll get the first-aid kit, I know where it is."

Half an hour later, Donna has been patched up and is sleeping far more soundly in the biggest bedroom (something Cassie is not thinking about ever), Cassie's been up to the Watchtower and come back down with everything she could carry that the three of them needed (she wound up zeta-ing down to Fawcett City to throw the Lords off of her trail), and Jason is parked in front of the emergency broadcast on television.

"Shouldn't we…well, do something?" Cassie asks, floating above the couch to get her own view of the TV.

Jason snorts. "We can't do anything 'heroic' without being spotted. Maybe we can patrol in a week or so, at night, in the shadows. Maybe. The Lords have it under control for now." He tips his head back on his neck over the seat of the sofa, looking up at her. "I heard what Replacement told you. Do I need to talk you out of going after your mom?"

"Why would you do that?" Cassie demands, flipping over too fast and ending up spinning midair before stabilizing herself. "I have to go get her!"

"And where would you take her? Another hospital where the Lords could track her down anyway? Back here, to live like a fugitive? Cassie, we don't even know how they're keeping her under. We pull her out, it could end badly for everyone." He sighs. "I know that you're worried about her, and I'm sorry. But we just went on the run. We're outlaws now, and you can bet that as soon as we don't report back, they're gonna come after us. Hard. No one else knows about this place, but even then we need to be careful."

"She's my mom! What am I supposed to do, just leave her?!"

"If that's better for her, than yes!"

They're both yelling, but when a police siren wails by outside, silence falls over the safehouse for a full minute.

"Look, I'm sorry, but we need to be careful here." Jason sighs, and rubs his head. "Right now, we're hiding in a warehouse in Gotham, Donna's down, and I'm out of beer. Your mom is in the best hospital in Metropolis. She'll be fine."

Cassie does not pout. That would be…undignified. She sulks. And sticks her lip out. And makes puppy dog eyes. But she does not pout.

"Don't even try that on me."

It was worth a shot.

"There, look." Jason waves the remote at the television. "Replacement and Scary Lady are on it."

"Does Donna know that you call Barbara Scary Lady, and is she jealous?"

"It was her idea."

They watch for another half an hour until the crowds have all dispersed and the news crew is shooed off. Jason stands up and stretches, brushing the white streak of hair out of his eyes.

"I'm going on a beer run. Need anything?"

Cassie yawns. "Coffee. Definitely coffee."

"Obviously. Stay here with Donna. Do not leave the warehouse or I won't bring you any ice cream."

Cassandra curls up on the couch and waves goodbye.

When Jason gets back an hour later, coffee staining his jacket from an incident at the Starbucks with a mouthy ten-year-old, he leaves off swearing and actually smiles at the sight of Cassie snuggled up to her teddy bear. He takes a moment to drape a blanketover her before digging out a sleeping bag and bunking down on the floor.

Safehouse, sweet safehouse.

Watchtower-Prime

March 20 th

3:07 UTC

Red Robin drinks deeply from his coffee mug, never taking his eyes off of the screen in front of him. It's a thorough inventory list, made two days ago, that details the contents of his lab at Arkham.

This is his second time going over the list, and while most of the items on here are either duplicates or extra supplies, a few items are…now running low.

He can duplicate most of them with a little extra time in his secondary lab up here. Only two are truly a problem.

"Anything I should know about?"

Tim doesn't jump, even though he didn't hear Barbara sneaking up.

"A few shortages. I can get most of them replenished in a couple of weeks, if not days."

"And the rest?"

How refreshing to have someone who can keep up with him.

He snags a file and expands it, pulling up a picture of a blue mineral crystal. "X-kryptonite. A synthetic form of kryptonite capable of enhancing Kryptonian powers or giving them to cats." Another file, this one with a red crystal. "Red kryptonite. Causes Kryptonians to suffer a lack of inhibitions." He turns his head to look at her. "When combined, they form one of the key components of the shields I make for Conner. My major supplies of both were currently on Arkham while I dismantled the lab in San Francisco. I have enough left up here to last maybe a month. If there are too many crises, maybe not even that long."

"How long will it take to recreate both?"

"X-Kryptonite takes two months to make. Trouble is, red Kryptonite has only ever been naturally occurring. I can try to synthesize it, but there's no guarantee I'll succeed anytime soon. Even if I did, successfully tweaking the formula to account for it could take even more time."

"Meaning that we'll have an unstable Kryptonian on withdrawal for a month, at bare minimum."

"Exactly. Conner hasn't been clean in two years. Do you want to be the one to deal with the inevitable destructive fallout?"

"I see your point. Got any ideas?"

"Just one, and it's more theoretical than anything." Tim drains his coffee mug and pulls up a final file. "Superman had data on this dimension he called the Phantom Zone…"

Elsewhere on the Watchtower

Garfield wanders along the hallway as a cat, because cats have the best yawning and stretching abilities. He's clean, he's made his report, and he's not going to go hide in his room until he knows he'll be able to sleep.

Before that…there's something he has to do.

He keys the code only two other people know into the door at the end of the hallway and waits for the multiple locks to disengage.

The interior of the room is lit only by a faint glow from a pod set horizontally against the wall. Garfield looks over the readings from the medical equipment, confirming that there's been no change, before he flops down in a chair. The only sound for a few minutes is the beeping of the heart monitor and the hum of the pod.

"Hey, coma girl," he eventually says, trying to sound cheerful. "How's it going?"

Just like every day for the past year, there's no response.

"Noted. So, um, I've kinda got some bad news."

He fidgets.

"Remember what I told you like two days ago about how M'gann was finally in a good mood cuz Wally was back, and I was gonna try to talk her into trying to help you wake up? Well, um, it…didn't work out that way."

Garfield swallows and looks at his hands, practicing changing them into paws.

"Wally went evil. He teamed up with the Resistance and attacked a bunch of scientists at this lab, Arkham, near Gotham."

He rubs his head. "I've known Wally since I was eight! He was always one of the best. He helped me out after my mom. When I first joined the Team. I just thought…since he was back…maybe things would get better again. Go back to the way they were."

He throws up his hands. "And it's not just Wally, either! Jaime, Artemis, Virgil, Bart, they're all gone. M'gann says they were brainwashed by the Resistance. That she needed more time to break the coercion. Dunno if she'll ever get it.

"And I saw Cassie up here, but she was leaving, and she had her teddy bear with her, so…I don't think she's coming back. Looks like me and Tim are the only ones left, but he won't even talk to me outside of briefings anymore."

A sad laugh escapes. "So I guess you're my best friend, coma girl. Unless you don't want to be! That's totally okay. Am I being creepy?"

Silence.

"Probably. You don't have to be my friend. I'd like to think we could be, if we knew each other before. Friends, I mean.

"I just really wish I knew your name. Grey? Argent? Annabeth? Sheila?

"Okay, so it's probably not Sheila."

He rests his chin on his hands, and asks, as he does at least once a session, "Can you even hear me?"

Silence.

"Noted," he murmurs, wistfully. "I gotta go to bed now. G'night, coma girl. Sweet dreams."

He yawns and checks the readings one last time—which, technically, is the only thing he's supposed to do, the talking thing had just sort of happened—and slips out of the room, leaving it to the quiet.

Within the tank, the girl stirs—just a bit. It's not enough to disturb the folds of the blue cloak draped around her, but it's enough to shift a few strands of purple hair so they fall over the red gemstone set in the grey skin of her forehead.

That's the only change, though, and for the rest of the night, Raven of Azarath slumbers peacefully under the influence of the psychic-induced coma.

The Batcave Computer

March 19 th

22:07 EDT

File: Project Taurus

Host Server: CADMUS labs

Program: Fireworks 2.0

Type: Virus

Countdown to Release: 32 days

Registered user code: RG4

Last reset: 10/3/19

Automatic release date: 30/3/27

Enter passcode to reset countdown

Gotham Heights

March 19 th

22:05 EDT

The well-dressed man exits his manor home, eyes on the sky.

An explosion at Arkham. How odd.

As soon as he looks away, he immediately spots the body lying in the street.

"My God—are you okay? Sir?" The man runs down his walk, pulling out his cellphone, dialing 911. He puts the phone to his ear and turns the figure over—and stops. That face is familiar.

"9-1-1, how can we help you?"

Well. He definitely doesn't need an ambulance now.

"Ah—the sky. I can see an explosion from where I am, I think—"

"Yes, sir, it's coming from Arkham. We are aware. Do you require any assistance yourself?"

"No, I'm fine. Good night."

He hangs up, pulls a pair of gloves out of his pocket, and gently pries open the person's mouth. A tooth has come loose, and as he examines it, a smirk spreads across his face.

He dials his phone again, but for a far different number.

"Yes, it's me. No, not about the explosion. It's actually rather serendipitous news."

He examines the tooth—and the small bird engraved in the metal filling—with an air of satisfaction. The special blend of electrum is not something that would be found in the handiwork of a typical dentist.

"Wake up Alton Carver. Send him to my location for transport." The man stands up and prods at the bruised and bleeding man on the ground with his foot. "I do believe we've found our wayward Talon."

Since AO3 says my end note is too long, I'm posting it as part of this.

Well. Here we are, at the end of things.

Oh wait, that was the last chapter. I like to think of this as more of a beginning.

Okay, any freaking out over any/all of those snippits may be done now. Let it out. Or save it for a review, I'm really looking forward to all of them.

Yes, I really did all those things. Yes, they will all have their place in the sequel. I'm looking forward to getting to know them all better. If you've been following this so far, you know what to expect—check out the notes, I'll address them more there.

For now? I just wanna thank all y'all. A lot.

According to the official statistics, this story has 191 followers, 120 favorites, 207 reviews, and 26,990 views on FF, and 26 kudos, 7 bookmarks, and 505 views on AO3.

Oh. My. Freaking. GOSH.

This is my biggest story, like, ever. I still can't believe that any people, much less SO MANY people, actually like it? Or at least wanted to see how I finished it.

You are all amazing, fantastic, wonderful, fantabulous, people. I adore you all.

I don't care whether you were here from the very first chapter (which I seriously need to edit), came in halfway through, or just picked it up literally last chapter and wanted to see how I finished. You are all incredibly stupendous people and I hope to see you in the sequel.

NOTES:

I had a lot of fun writing every single bit of this chapter, and I am completely unashamed. Sorry there was no more exposition with Wally and the League. There also probably won't be, since I'm planning on a time-skip. There will be at least a one-shot about what went down.

Cass, Stephanie, and Damian will either be getting a one-shot or a chapter explaining their backstory. I'll try not to blab too much here, but the gist of it is that Cass and Damian have known each other for longer, and Stephanie still had her death faked by Dr. Leslie and went to Africa. Circumstances were different. That's where the three of them met.

Cassie, Donna, and Jason are currently holed up in his safehouse. There may be another one-shot about the incident at Starbucks. (You see what I need a collection for?)

I have no idea what's actually in the shields. Take it as artistic license. Red Kryptonite is from Smallville, and X-Kryptonite features in this one story from like the 1980s where it gives powers to Supergirl's cat.

Yes, Conner will be taking a trip to the Phantom Zone. He's also going to meet another of the heroes in the Kryptonian line…

I did tell TT fans to get excited, right? Yes, Raven will show up in the sequel. As will a certain Tamaranean and Victor Stone. Not for a while yet, though.

Project Taurus…ahh….I'm so VERY excited for that. The name is a clue. If you're curious, well…what constellation is east of Taurus? Or rather, what's it to the west of? Also, bc it's confusing to anyone from America: the dates are d/m/y format.

Anyone needing clarification on the last section, Google the Court of Owls. (ehehehehehehe….remember my hint about Dick meeting some larger, more dangerous birds?)

Also, while I have the chance…PROMPT.

Completely unrelated to this story, but here we go (and let me know if you decide to pick this up!):

Imagine a Bluepulse AU of Season 2—that does not involve the Reach—where Bart is a clone from Cadmus, and not a time traveler. He has some sort of programming that could cause him to go sort of 'on mode' at any time, and for some reason, Khaji Da (and Jaime by extension) is the only one who knows. Jaime, who's gotten attached to Bart, doesn't tell anyone else because he wants to protect Bart, and tries to protect him while figuring out a way to shut down the programming. Also, if you could, include an alive mentor!Ted Kord. Maybe?

So that's out there for anyone who wants to try.

I'd like to thank the Academy…and several other people.

Counting Sinful Stars, eesanchez95, DCsuperheroesForever, Player Zero, and especially mooitsTimDrake (my new review buddy) and sass-mistress-lucifer (she of the lovely long angst-ridden reviews) for being continuous consistent reviewers and my general cheering section. YOU ALL ROCK.

Everyone else who reviewed. I loved each and every one.

Mango-Sama, of course, for your lovely and fabulous beta powers. Thank you for reviewing all those chapters, continuing to PM me, and eventually being there for me to rant at and bounce ideas off of while the sequel grew from a maybe-seed into an actual thing. You're amazing.

MathisMagic, for the prompt that started it all. This has been a wonderful ride and an incredible opportunity I would never have had access to if not for your idea. Thank you.

All the characters in this story deserve a special shout-out for the things I've put them through. This one's for those guys.

Greg Weisman and Brandon Vietti, for creating the show that I have gleefully allowed to consume my life. Thanks!

And, because this is the anniversary of my joining FF (weeeelll, technically I just checked my profile and it's tomorrow but WHO CARES I'M UPLOADING THIS AND CALLING IT GOOD), mega shoutout to 13bookworm, my irl best friend who made me an account and only told me when she wanted me to make my own password. I love you and hate you in equal measure, but either way, you're awesome and I wouldn't be here if not for you.

I will see you all whenever I get the first chapter of The Days That Follow up. (which…might be a while. Hey, tradition!)

Thank you all, and good night. Stay whelmed.