Chapter Text
Running. Tommy likes to think it's a talent. It's the difference between running into battle and running away though, he thinks, that really separates people.
"You should come with us."
But for Molly Hayes and Chase and Nico and the rest of them, running away is how they survive. They do both: run away and run into battle. They're broken, Tommy thinks. Anyone even slightly adult-like—Avenger-ish—and trust immediately flies out the window.
A little girl with an awesome hat and incredible strength stares at him. The ketchup from the cheeseburger Tommy's bought stains her cheek and glows as she smiles. Molly looks as though she hasn't had a proper meal in three days (and she probably hasn't.) She's on her third burger and Tommy his second.
He runs her words through his mind again and can't help but laugh.
Molly pouts. "Why not? The Leap Frog could use an extra passenger, and I like you."
Obviously, he can't go. "There's—" Nothing that's stopping him. "I have—" Nothing, no one waiting for him in New York. "I'm a—" Runaway, incidentally. From juvie, from his parents, who are sort of evil. Tommy thinks about it. "I'm…" He'd fit in perfectly.
The Runaways (a name coined by Cassie before her passing—Tommy thinks he's able to hide his trembling hand under the table, but knows he couldn't after Molly grabs it) is everything Tommy thought of while in juvie. He used to dream of breaking out, run as far away as possible, then come back to take revenge on every person that ever hurt him. He never saw himself as a good person—the 'T' in his name usually stood for Troublemaker.
He was once a kleptomaniac. Once in a gang. Once fucked things up so badly so his parents would stop arguing for at least five seconds in order to bail him out of trouble.
What changed all of that? He wonders. What turned Tommy the Troublemaker to Tommy the Good Samaritan? (Where did he pick up the word 'Samaritan'?) The questions run through his mind like a cyclone and Molly's proposal yanks his heart away.
"We've talked about it," Molly beams. Her tiny hand holds his tightly and the thirteen-year-old steals his French fries. "You come and find us once a week, anyway. And last time you saved me and Klara from a thug, and 'lina thinks you're precious, and Chase thinks there aren't enough guys on the team."
"Oh," is all Tommy can say through his astonishment.
"We help people. And you still want to help people," Molly concludes. "We can help people together."
It's amazing how in a few words, Molly has always been able to cheer him up. The way she smiles, the way she acts—it's crazy. There's slight desperation in her voice, and Tommy wonders how long they've discussed his…possible joining. He loves the time spent with Molly, acting like a big brother to a little sister.
Big brother. Then it clicks.
"I have Billy to think about," Tommy mutters.
"You mean the magician that never notices you're around?" Molly asks. "He doesn't even make doves come out of his hat!"
Tommy smiles weakly. "Billy doesn't wear a hat."
"Just think about it," Molly replies. "'Cause I really want you with us."
"I will," Tommy promises. The scary thing is, he thinks he might.
xxx
December's cold this time of year, particularly in New York. The PJ pants and stolen sweatshirt from Altman's side of the closet won't cut it for very long, especially if Tommy keeps wearing out the hole in one of the sleeves. The Flash pants are practically paper-thin as he trudges across the country, knee-deep in ten-states of different snow, but worth it. As a late and mock-Hanukah gift from the mini-Kaplans (as Tommy affectionately called Billy's younger brothers), he's worn them all winter. The bright yellow rain boots given by Altman, however, may be overkill. Being a speedster, Tommy hates the snow.
He stops in Rhode Island at 2AM for hot cocoa, lingers outside a gas station, and pretends to be a hobo. After walking Molly back to the Runaways' current hideout (somewhere in a weird Pride cellar beneath San Francisco Bay), Nico and Chase, the presumed leaders of the group had pulled him in for a discussion, too.
"I think it'd be wicked cool to have a speedster on the team," Chase grinned. He's happier now. Molly mentioned when they first met something about a girl named Gert—but the way Nico and Chase hold onto each other, hands intertwined and eyes solid, Tommy's sure they've both found stability.
"Thanks," Tommy offered. "But I can't." He has a (slow) life back in New York with an (inattentive, traumatized) brother and (no) parents who would worry if he was gone.
"We…know you're still hurting," Nico said quietly. It takes a moment, but Tommy reminds himself how close he's gotten to this team. When she pecks him on the cheek and Chase doesn't show any sign of jealousy, he knows they've accepted him. "And if you need someone to talk to…we're here, okay?"
Three months.
In three days, it will be exactly three months since Wanda Maximoff was found, since the Young Avengers was disbanded—since the death of Stature and Vision. Of Cassie and Jonas.
They were never that close. Kate was their peacemaker. She knocked sense into Teddy, Billy, and Eli, made Jonas feel human, and was a great big sister to Cassie. (Tommy would never say it aloud, but she was a great sister to him, too.) But she and Eli—they were as visible as Cassie and Jonas.
Every evening Tommy dreams that the Young Avengers is still alive. And every night, they turn into nightmares, chasing after him as he runs. Blood sheds, screams echo in darkness. As the sounds end, Tommy sees red in his vision. He wakes up doused in sweat, terror, and absolute, trembling fear.
If only he was fast enough. If only he paid attention. If only he'd just noticed, instead of being so caught up in his mother. If only…if only it'd never happened.
It's the thought of losing two of his closest friends that sometimes makes Tommy wish he'd never left juvie.
Before even finishing the hot cocoa, Tommy squeezes the cup in his hand, allows scalding hot liquid to burn his hand, and throws the cup into the trash. He restarts his run back up to New York City, and hopes that this will be the race where he outruns his fears.
He misses crime-fighting. Misses having a purpose in life, rather than sitting around in some school that doesn't think he's important in a class too difficult to keep his attention struggling for good grades. Tommy misses the wind in his hair, running with freedom, and—and seeing that little kid with all the joy on his face as he hugs Speed, the superhero, with his tiny arms and mucus-y tears saying thank you, over and over.
Maybe…
His heart palpates.
Maybe Molly and Nico and Chase have a point.
Maybe he should be a Runaway.
Forty-five minutes later as he makes it to the outskirts of New York, he dumps all the snow from bright yellow rain boots and pulls the hood off his hair. Breathing white puff-balls, Tommy prolongs the trip back to the Kaplan Household as much as he can. Christmas lights glow in the dark, along with singing Santas and animated reindeers that "run" along the roofs of many stores.
At 3:23AM, Tommy climbs the fire-escape of the apartment building and dusts fat drops of snow from his face. He shivers, pulling sleeves of Altman's large jacket over cold hands, and pulls up the ladder until he makes it to the right balcony. His window—Altman and his—catches his eye, along with the complete and utter darkness. Dark green curtains are pulled back, giving bright view of the two mattresses set parallel to one another on either side of the room. One large lump throws Tommy off, but he ignores it.
Pressing hands against the window, he sucks in a deep breath and vibrates—Pleasedon'texplodepleasedon'texplode—into the room.
The house is silent. Thank god.
He takes one more look at Altman's bed as he strips down to the essentials—his boxers—and frowns at the lone figure curled in sheets.
"Thanks for keeping the curtains open," Tommy mutters to no one in particular. "Fucking hell vibrating through those." With a final breath for the night, Tommy throws himself into his bed and closes his eyes.
"You're home later than usual," comes a groggy reply.
Tommy smiles against his pillow. "Late dinner with Molly."
He ignores the way his heart skips a beat (or seven) as Altman's mattress makes a symphony of squeaks. It's become a nightly ritual of theirs; Tommy running away in the middle of the night and Teddy waiting up for him, no matter how late he comes back.
Because he always comes back. (He'll never say aloud, how good that feels and how he likes this ritual.)
"Why do you run out every night?" Teddy asks in a hoarse and tired voice. "Mrs. Kaplan knows I know, too. Even if you're quiet and all."
Tommy's face grows hot as he buries it in his pillow. As he tries to ignore Billy's boyfriend and feign sleep.
"You can talk to me," Teddy murmurs tiredly. The warmth in his voice, Tommy will never say makes his mind flutter and cheeks tingle.
, "I run to outrun the nightmares."
Somehow it still makes him sound like an idiot. A bomb drops and his heart pounds.
Teddy is thoughtfully silent before he mutters, "Oh."
"Running makes me feel…feel alive. It's what I am." Tommy sits up, feeling the strange need to defend himself. The words are tumbling out of his mouth before he can filter them. Staring Altman in the dark, he feels anxious for a response.
What catches him off guard is the silence following his declaration. The sound of Teddy's steady breathing fills his ears. Slowly but surely, Altman's hand moves for the lamp. Light illuminates the room like a burst of flames and Teddy's face, strong and firm with vivid blue eyes and a natural, ashy sanguine that highlights his cheek bones, stare Tommy in the eye. Blond hair sticks up in chaotic cowlicks and a clumsy smile stretches across Teddy's lips.
Makes Tommy feel self-conscious. He catches his breath and tries to ignore the pounding in his heart. Lamely, in hopes of finding his voice, he turns away and elaborates. Tries to, anyway.
"Every time I close my eyes, I…" he stops short. "I keep wondering why I wasn't fast enough."
Teddy makes a sound. "That's like asking why Hawkette didn't have enough arrows."
"It wouldn't have been possible to—"
"Or why Patriot couldn't block the attack."
"Those aren't his—"
"Or why I didn't turn into some giant serpent thing and choke Doom so Cassie didn't try and take him on."
It's the inner child in Tommy that makes him go, "There's no fucking way you have that power."
Teddy shrugs. He laughs loudly at the accusation and it's enough to make Tommy smile despite himself. The half-skrull prince's voice is an inviting tenor that only makes the surface of Tommy's skin tingle, and as they laugh the night away, he can't help but feel just a little bit lighter.
They enter another silence. Teddy's breathing, Tommy's heart beat—that's all to be heard, and once again Tommy succumbs to his earlier musings. Outside the wind howls, and there's no doubt that within the hour another foot of snow will accompany the ground.
"Do you really have to run? Every night, for the past three months?" Teddy whispers.
Three months. Beneath the duvet, his hands are shaking.
"What's it to you?" Tommy asks, though accidentally snapping.
"Nothing," Teddy says quickly. There's a weary edge to his voice that reminds Tommy of the old days—the good days when the gang was still a gang. Unfortunately it's lost its vigor since then.
He and Teddy. They talk now. A lot more than Tommy ever did with his old friends, and before the Young Avengers were disbanded. He's as good of conversation as Molly is, sometimes better because he actually gets it (and sometimes worse because there are just some things too personal that make Tommy too scared to tell. Like now.)
"Sometimes I shapeshift," Teddy admits quietly in the dark.
Tommy snorts. "You do it in your sleep all the time."
"No. I mean…I shapeshift, to Hulkling." Oh. "To other things." Teddy's human flesh glows intensely against the dim light and through dusk, Tommy makes out the definition of green scales. "I know I grew up thinking that I was…you know, human. But it's still…"
"Part of your blood," Tommy finishes for him. He lies on his back and stares at the ceiling; to the corny glow-in-the-dark stars Mrs. Kaplan put up there a week after the incident.
Count the stars if you can't fall asleep, she explained to them months ago. They're supposed to help relieve stress. I know you three have a lot of it.
There's forty-two of them. Tommy's counted at least seventy times over the past week.
He can't help but feel more comfortable than he did originally after Teddy's confession. He feels relieved that he's not the only one needing that thrill, needing that sanity. Blood only courses through his veins whenever he can run. No one ever understands—will understand how hard it is for him to sit still. Being Speed, being a superhero was like having a toy he'd never get tired of. Something to love, since everyone else was too busy with their own agendas.
Then in an instant, it was all taken away from him. And Tommy wants nothing more than to get it back.
He's tired, on the verge of sleep.
In his sleepy musings, he asks, "If you had the chance, would you run away? Become a superhero again? Be Hulkling?"
Silence. Nothing but the howling of snow outside to keep him company, and as Tommy's sure their nightly ritual has come to an end—
"I'd love to be a superhero again." Teddy Altman continues to surprise him. With a click the lamp is turned off. "But I'd never be able to leave Billy."
Billy. Billy, Billy, Billy.
"Right," Tommy murmurs as the last word for the night. He's sure that Teddy knows that 'Right' in Tommy-nese dictionary means 'Me neither' in Altman-speak.
"Mm," is all the sound Teddy makes before they both end the conversation for good.
Tommy decides not to mention, how odd Billy isn't anywhere near their room on this particular night. Like the past week, really.
xxx
A large hand shakes Tommy awake in the morning. It rests on his shoulder and jerks violently until he makes an unintelligent sound of awareness. "Aghh."
"Sorry," Teddy mutters apologetically. "Did you wear my sweatshirt last night?"
"Yes."
"Where did you throw it?"
"Over there."
"Uh."
"At your feet, dumbass." Tommy sits up from the bed and flushes as the look of confusion given to him so early in the morning. He bends over the mattress with an orchestra of back cracks and reveals the red hoodie in a crumpled mess right next to the Flash PJ pants.
"Thanks." Teddy pulls it over his person and pauses. "Did you wear a hole in one of the sleeves?"
"You make it sound like I steal all of your jackets." Tommy flops against is pillow and ignores the puzzled look he gets. Silence. Confusion. In a cracked voice and lamed attempt to regain his dignity, he announces, "Good night. Have fun in school. Whatever."
His roommate is apparently standing there for a while. Five minutes later, Teddy is making arbitrary noises between brushing his teeth and shuffling through a messy pile of homework. The door squeaks open, signaling his departure, when Tommy picks up on Teddy's last sentence.
"…smells just like you." The door shuts.
The second time he wakes up to the sun beaming through the window and the scent of pancakes wafting through the house. Tommy gets up groggily, stomach groaning and vision bleary, before toppling off the bed and into nice carpeting.
Rebecca Kaplan is at the end of his mattress, holding both the pancakes and glass of orange juice. "Good morning."
"Morning." Waking up to Mrs. Kaplan's face rarely ever ended with good news. He grabs the plate of food thankfully and slices a fork through
"When were you going to tell me you didn't go to school?"
Tommy freezes. He stuffs his face until he looks like a giant white chipmunk with a mouth full of acorns and looks in the other direction. A quick mumble leaves his lips, meaning to be a positive reason, but instead coming out as, "Argh."
"Come again?"
Swallow. "IsaidIaminschool."
"No, you're not."
"YesIam."
"So reports of a school combusting wouldn't somehow make it on the 6 o'clock news?" Rebecca asks wryly. There's a look she rarely uses on Billy or Teddy or even the little ones. Just Tommy. "I knew I recognized you from somewhere."
"5 o'clock," Tommy corrects pathetically. His shoulders slump. From the corner of his eye the clock glows 10:32AM, two hours too late for school to start. Rebecca watches him sternly and he automatically peaks. "I tried the school thing. Itsuckedokay?"
With their powers, Teddy and Billy had it easy. Sitting in small spaces again directly after his time in juvie freaked him out. Sitting still freaked him out more. Sometimes it's just a speedster thing people don't understand.
"I've heard the same thing from Billy, honey." The pet name makes his skin crawl. "But you're just going to have to deal with it." Rebecca's a very strong woman with sharp eyes and an even sharper tongue.
"You'renotmymother."
Silence. Tommy wonders if Billy's ever said the same thing. And how harsh it sounds, coming from Rebecca Kaplan's son's look-alike.
"I'm not," She looks to Tommy beneath her glasses and sighs softly at his reaction. "But you're still going to school."
"Dammit."
xxx
"You aren't in school?" Chase cocks an eyebrow.
"Why do you think I come here all the time? Dumbass." Tommy plops onto their couch and crosses his arms.
Chase mocks the pose and shrugs. "I just figured you ditched every day." They battle for the remote until Tommy comes out victor. Chase curses as Tommy grins. "That might be a bad idea if you plan on joining our team."
The speedster halts and falters. "I never said that I was joining the Runaways."
"Runa—?" Chase cocks his head. "So you're going to school then."
"No. Fuck school."
"Then you'll join the team?"
"What makes you think I'm joining? Agh."
"Because you've already visited us three times this week? In the middle of the day?" Reaching over, Chase pops a can of coca-cola and hands a second one to the younger teen. "You ran here to discuss things instead of complaining to, uh, what's his name?"
"Hulkling. Well," Tommy shrugs. "Teddy Altman. Sometimes Theodore. Sometimes Alty, if I piss him off the right amount."
"Right. Your boyfriend."
An unintelligent noise leaves Tommy's throat. "Billy's boyfriend."
"Oh. Right." The channel changes to Nickelodeon as Chase feigns disinterest. When he looks back, Tommy's glaring. "What? Honest mistake!" Punch. "Ow!"
"He's not my boyfriend you jackass!"
"Okay, okay! You know, for a runner, you pack a fucking whallop." Cradling his jaw, Chase groans. "You go to him whenever you need to blow off steam, don't you?"
"He's…in school." Tommy grumbles. It's a lame excuse. "Mrs. Kaplan is getting all the paperwork done. I'll be going to their school sometime this week. Maybe tomorrow."
"And you felt the need to vent over here?"
"It seemed appropriate."
"It's six in the morning!"
"Then why are you up?" Tommy shoves the remote in the other teen's face and hides his blush under hunched shoulders.
Chase stares him in the eye. Hard. "I never went to sleep."
Oh. The conversation sobers and they fall into an awkward silence. For the past few months Chase became the big brother Tommy wished he'd have growing up. They ragged on one another when given the chance, fought over Molly's wellbeing, and criticized the hell out of the other. Eventually, learning about the death and how Tommy came from a sick and twisted school that turned him into a labrat, there came respect.
This kind of silence, Tommy can respect. Like a nice older brother, Chase pats him on the back with a large hand and asks, "You still have nightmares about Cassie and Victor's brother from another lab-dude?"
Blood curdling screams. Hums of vaporizers.
Tommy tucks his legs into his chest. "Sometimes." He doesn't notice he's trembling until Chase takes the coke from his hand. "Does it ever get any easier?"
Chase shrugs. "Depends on who."
That probably means no. Tommy flops onto couch cushions and shudders. Tries not to suffocate. "Sometimes I wish I could run away like I did from juvie. I could walk away and just never worry about anything. Except for being Speed and stuff."
"You could," Chase reminds him. He moves onto his fourth can of coca-cola. "There would finally be a good number of guys on the team. Klara and Molly love you already and Karolina could coax you into your borderline homosexuality…what? Why are you looking at me like that?"
Promptly that morning, the cellar was awoken by the sound of exploding coca-cola cans and the sight of Nico's boyfriend in a headlock by a very much smaller, angrier speedster.
xxx
Later (out of guilt and amusement) Tommy tags along as Nico and Karolina do their weekly shopping for supplies. One is preoccupied with finding a tofu recipe book and the other massages her forehead in attempt to overcome the headache given by a very loud boyfriend. Tommy's in charge of which state to run them to.
"You should join," Nico concludes. Her lipstick is blood red and eyeliner is done in a way that looks like wings. As they wait at the front of the bakery while Karolina inspects fresh loaves of bread, Tommy almost feels odd not being dressed like Speed. "That way you can knock some sense into Chase as many times as you want."
"You don't think it's mean that I shoved coke down his pants and made it spontaneously combust?" He snickers. She laughs.
"You cleaned up the mess, didn't you?"
As she smiles, Tommy can't help but smile. "Chase told you, didn't he? Rebecca realized I've been bumming around for the past month and a half and is now enrolling me into school."
"That just strikes a question," Nico mutters. She fiddles through a barrel full of fancily decorated oven mittens and reveals a black pair with sequined skulls. They both gag. "Why haven't you been in school the past few months?"
Tommy sucks in a breath. Chase's accusation makes sense—he's more likely to ditch school than to drop out. The sounds of whirling machinery and sensation of needles stabbing into his skin—almost makes him lose attention.
"Tommy?" Nico asks gently.
"Itjustdidn'tworkout," he mutters speedily and rushes to Karolina's side.
She smiles. "Hey."
"Hey."
"So are you going to join the team?"
"I have school." Lamely.
The statement manages to stop Karolina earlier on than it did Molly, Chase, or Nico. Karol sighs dreamily as she digs for her wallet. She places a crisp five dollar bill on the counter and hugs herself. Sadness drifts across her pretty face; Tommy can't help but feel responsible.
"What's wrong?" he asks. Leaning against the counter, he ignores the cashier's complaints and pushes a lock of pretty blond hair behind her ear.
Karolina is as delicate as the rest of the Runaways, Tommy thinks. She's tall and beautiful, but frail and worn. Her blond hair pours behind her as a waterfall and eyes shimmer with depression. She hugs herself and looks to him dreamily. "School. I used to hate going to school. I'd give anything, now, to go back to my teachers and do homework and be…you know, a normal kid."
Normal. The thought swells in Tommy's head, and he can't help but feel awkward. He's heard twenty different versions of the story—of how almost a year and a half ago, six kids met up like they did each year because of their parents, and stumbled upon something that they shouldn't have. Their only choice? Surrender and accept weird world domination or runaway. Tommy's been on the end of a decision he'd never wanted to make—they aren't pretty.
And at least when he was Speed, there was a h…home he was able to return to, with the Kaplans. But, after running around the world, the thrill of adventure pulsing through his veins and adrenaline pumping through his calves, he can't tell anymore—is the real identity Tommy, and Speed the superhero, or is Speed who he really is?
"Being normal is overrated," Tommy says after a moment of contemplation. He splits into a sly smirk, pushes off the counter, and steals the two measly sacks of groceries near the cash register. He juggles them in his hands as Karol laughs and pays, and wobbles beside her toward the door.
"I never thought that I'd miss the smell of text books," Karolina jokes as they exit the bakery.
Nico turns around to greet them and grabs one of the bags out of Tommy's hands. She looks to them in confusion, then back to Tommy. "So you're going to school then?"
"Well…" Tommy's getting tired of this question. He thinks back to what he told Rebecca—she's not his mother…but he wonders, if Billy's ever said the same thing to her. Guilt flutters through him and he groans. "I can't not go."
Karolina pitches in. "So…you're not going to join the team then?"
"I never said that."
"So," Nico pesters, "You are going to join the team?"
"I never said that, either!"
"What's it going to take to get you to join the team then?" The Runaways leader looks to him with dismay, clearly upset with the ordeal. Personally, Tommy isn't sure what to say. It was only yesterday that he was extended the invitation—from the youngest member, of all people, to become a Runaway. He's the one that refused—to at least thinking about becoming one. But there's Billy…and Altman, and Kate. They need him more than the Runaways do.
But—he thinks, as he looks to both Nico and 'Lina, both whose eyes are planted to him—do they think—know—that…he needs them? Is that?
Oh, fuck.
He opens his mouth to speak—
—and never gets the chance.
"MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAA! I AM THE RAINBOW WRANGLER! I WILL RULE THE WORLD!"
Karolina groans. Nico rolls her eyes. Tommy opens his mouth to speak; to say something about him joining the team. Instead, a snide comment leaves his lips. "Is this seriously the level of superbaddies you guys deal with?"
"Can't always pick your enemies," Nico grumbles sarcastically. She looks to Tommy and smirks. "I don't suppose you'd like to help us teach him a lesson?"
Tommy blinks. Waits. Grins. He teems with excitement, adrenaline making the hairs on his skin stand erect. "Let's get him…up to Speed."
"When Blood is Shed…"