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Wally knew what hurt looked like. He knew it when it swung its fist at his face, not caring that the bruises would be obvious when he went to school. He knew it when it wrapped its hands around his throat and made breathing an impossibility. He knew hurt when, frantic and scared, he kicked it in the nuts and gouged at its eyes.
Wally West knew hurt because he picked up a backpack full of his things, kissed his mom on the cheek, and left the house where hurt lived. He started crying when he was three blocks away from his childhood home, and he cried all the way to his best friend’s house. He never stopped running the whole time.
Wally knew hurt because for the whole 8 mile run from hurt’s house to a safe haven, he couldn’t stop looking over his shoulder, terrified that hurt would be following him. Hurt’s rusty red pickup truck never appeared around the corner, didn’t speed down the road he was on, honking and raring to hit him. The only pain with Wally was what hurt left him, so he spat the blood in his mouth onto the road, feeling around his mouth to see if he still had all of his teeth. He didn’t, but it was only a back molar, so he could still smile for pictures.
When Wally rang the doorbell of the Wayne mansion, he checked his reflection in the glass of the door. A black eye, a ring of bruising around his throat, a split lip, and blood covering his teeth when he opened his mouth. Not the greatest way to roll up to someone else’s door, but they’d seen it before. The door opened, and Wally was face to face with Alfred Pennyworth.
“Ah, Master Wallace. Please, come in. Shall I get you a bag of frozen peas?” Wally’s lips twitched into a fraction of a smile.
“Yeah, Alfred, that would be awesome. Is Dick home?” Alfred disappeared into the kitchen, and Wally toed off his shoes before following.
“Master Richard is currently in his gym. I would ask you to swish some salt water before you go to see him. It wouldn’t do to be getting an infection.” Wally’s mouth twitched again, pulling at his lip. “You put this on that eye, and I will get the water ready.” Wally took the bag of peas from Alfred and, wrapping them in a clean dish towel, he placed it against his eye. “Here you are, Master Wallace.” Wally took the glass of salt water from Alfred and swished some around in his mouth. It burned, but Wally knew it was better to get his mouth clean than for it to keep bleeding everywhere. Once the burning stopped, he leaned over the sink and spit the water out, noting how red it had turned. He took another mouthful just to be safe, and when he spit it out it was much clearer.
“Thanks, Alfred. I’m gonna go find Dick.” Wally placed the glass in the sink and turned back to Alfred. He opened his mouth, but he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. His teeth met with a click.
“If you need to stay for a time, Master Wallace, you are more than welcome. Shall I ready a guest room near Master Richard’s bedroom?” Wally felt his shoulders drop in relief.
“That would be awesome, Alfred. Thank you.” Wally shifted the peas in his hand before pressing it against his lip. He made his way back out of the kitchen and into the foyer, descending a small set of stairs and continuing down a long hallway to where Dick’s gymnastics gym was.
He could breathe easier, here. Hurt wouldn’t dare cross this threshold, and even if it did, hurt didn’t stand a chance against any of the people who lived in this house. Not against Dick, not against Jason, not against Tim, not against Damian, and sure as hell not against Bruce. And that was without calling the girls for backup. Wally could breathe.
He entered Dick’s gym without so much as a knock, but his best friend waved in the middle of his routine anyway. Wally made his way to the bench at the side of the trapeze ring and sat down, careful of his many bruises. Dick made a few more flashy flips and swings before dismounting at the nearest tower.
“Please tell me I should see the other guy.” The concern was evident in his best friend’s voice, and Wally couldn’t help the laugh, no matter how much it hurt him. Dick ran his hands lightly over Wally’s shoulders, down his arms, taking a look at his split knuckles.
“Bastard’ll be lucky if he still has the equipment to make another kid, if that’s what you’re asking.” A pause for Wally to move the peas back to his eye. “But, no, I definitely look worse than he does.” Dick’s hands are still fluttering around his general being, so Wally grabs one and just holds it still.
“Did you leave anything there that you’ll be wanting?” There’s the slightest tremor in Dick’s voice, but Wally knows how bad he looks, so he doesn’t say anything.
“I mean, yeah. This was kind of just a go bag, you know?” Wally finally moves the makeshift icepack to the bruising on his neck. He cannot stop the hiss that pulls form behind his teeth when the cold makes contact with his skin. Dick looks at him, eyes wide.
“If you made a list, we could go get your things.” There is little question to who ‘we’ is referring to. And it certainly is not including Wally. “Sooner than later, if you want. Hell knows what he’s doing with your stuff right now.” Wally didn’t want to think about it.
“Yeah, that sounds nice.” There’s a moment that Wally imagines Jason Todd beating the shit out of Rudolph West. It’s a nice thought. “I did have to leave my comics behind.” Dick’s hands tighten on his for a moment before letting go.
“So, we’ll go get them. I’ll go ask Alfred to drive.” Dick’s hands leave Wally’s and Wally can’t stop himself from reaching back out for the comfort. Dick doesn’t hesitate, picking Wally’s hand back up, and they hold hands all the way back through the manor, as Dick texts his brothers and father. By the time they get to the main foyer, Dick’s whole family is waiting there. Tim is holding a few empty duffel bags, and Jason is holding a crowbar, and Wally loves them in that moment just as much as he does Dick, even if he doesn’t know them all that well. Even Damian, if only because he hasn’t said anything derisive, yet.
“If you don’t want to go back, Wally, you and I can stay here.” Bruce is standing in front of Wally, eyes sad but understanding. There’s a moment where Wally almost agrees to that, because he never wants to see his parents again, ever, but he tightens his hold on Dick’s hand and says,
“I’ll come, but I’m staying in the car.” Bruce smiles, just a small one, but it means more than Wally can say.
“Okay. You can stay in the car with Alfred because I have some things to say to Mr. West.” And with that, Jason leads the way out of Wayne Manor to the extra-fancy hatchback they all pile into, Wally and Dick in the backseat huddled together. Dick is writing up a list of everything Wally is rattling off that he left behind, even though it looks like all the brothers are committing each word to memory as it leaves his mouth.
It’s a short drive, ending much sooner than the run Wally had taken to get away, and there’s no panic in his chest quite yet, maybe because Dick is still squeezing his hand. If anything, he feels a little numb to the situation. As Alfred pulls the car up to the curb, leaving it running as he parks, there’s a moment where Wally regrets coming. But as the boys all file out, Tim with his duffels and Jason with his crowbar and Damien with his – wait, is that a sword? – and Dick with his blue eyes burning in anger, Alfred turns on a brassy jazz tune loud enough that Wally almost doesn’t hear the exclamations of his father as Bruce Wayne pushes him back into his own house from the porch.
“Master Wallace, is there anything in particular you would like for dinner tonight?” Alfred’s voice breaks him out of his stupor, and Wally’s mind draws a blank on food for the first time in years.
“Uhhh…” Alfred is looking at him via the rear view mirror, and Wally can’t look away. There’s yelling just off to his right, some distance away from the car, but it doesn’t have the gravity of Alfred’s question, innocuous as it is. “I’m not sure.” There’s another pause, but it’s Alfred, so Wally doesn’t feel any pressure from it. “Did you have plans for something?” There’s another yell from outside, but Wally doesn’t look. Doesn’t know if he could.
“Well, I do believe we were going to have a roast dinner, but I think we should stop at the store anyway, to collect food and drink that would be suitable to your tastes and health.” Alfred readjusts his hands where they rest on the steering wheel. “I would like you to know, Master Wallace, that Master Richard has always considered you a brother. We, in turn, consider you family as well.” There’s a knot in Wally’s throat, and the tears that spring to his eyes aren’t out of fear, but comfort.
“That means a lot, Alfred, thanks.” There’s a pause where it’s just jazz music, but Wally thinks of something and laughs. “It’s too bad I’m missing some of the criteria for Bruce, huh?” Alfred raises a single eyebrow, and Wally continues. “Well, no black hair, no blue eyes.” Wally laughs again, but this time he doesn’t stop, the hours of stress spilling over, until he’s sobbing in the backseat. There’s the sound of a car door opening and closing, distantly, and again, and then there are hands on his own.
“Master Wallace, would you look at me?” Alfred asked, his voice gentle but commanding. Wally looked at him. “You know Master Bruce cares for you as his own.” Wally can feel the tears coming down his cheeks, but they aren’t all sad tears. Some of them are, because he’s definitely still freaking out about what his parents might be doing to the Waynes, but most of them aren’t. Because Alfred is right. Dick is his brother, and all the other Wayne boys treat him almost exactly how they treat Dick, up to and including drawing on his face in Sharpie.
“I do know.” Wally gasped. “I’m just scared.” Alfred draws him into a hug and Wally buries his face in collar of his jacket. They stay there until the passenger side doors open, and Dick is shoving a duffle bag into the car, following after to come sit on Wally’s other side. Tim and Jason follow shortly after, though Damien and Bruce are not immediately present. Jason is on the phone, and Wally is pretty sure he’s talking to Barbara, if only because he’s cursing half as much as he normally does. Dick and Alfred don’t say anything to each other, Wally doesn’t think, but the pass off from Alfred’s hug to his best friend is seamless. Dick draws him in and holds him so tightly it’s a little hard to breathe. Wally feels safe. Bruce deposits Damien in the back of the car by the scruff of his neck and gets in the passenger seat. When Alfred pulls away from the curb, when Dick loosens his grip just slightly, giving Wally the option, Wally does not look back to his old house. Hurt may still live there, but Wally doesn’t. Not anymore.