Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time Jason sees Ronnie, it’s on the front page of the local paper. He’s surrounded by his teammates and grinning, holding a golden trophy aloft. The printer apparently had trouble with Ronnie’s hair, because it’s just a smear of orange, but there’s no missing the irrepressible joy in his face.

Jason rolls his eyes and doesn’t even read the headline. He can’t wait to get out of this town.

The first time Jason sees Ronnie in person, it’s at school. One arm is wrapped around Doreen, and the other gesticulates wildly as he tells a story. Everyone laughs as he reaches the punchline, and Ronnie beams like he’s just discovered electricity.

“Asshole,” grumbles Cliff from his customary spot beside Jason. “Doreen’s too good for him. He’ll toss her out as soon as he gets bored.”

This is standard Cliff, but Jason can’t pretend he’s not a little worried. His best friend seems to be growing angrier and angrier with every passing day. Back in freshman year, Jason could distract him from his frustrations with Star Wars novels and TED Talks, but now it seems like nothing he does helps Cliff forget how unsuccessful he’s been with girls.

It’s gotten so bad that it’s driven Tonya away completely. She eats lunch with her GSA friends now.

“Don’t worry,” says Jason. “College will be different.”

“I bet he hits her when nobody’s watching,” says Cliff.

Ronnie’s smile is bright and genuine, and his fingertips curl so gently around the narrowest point of Doreen’s waist. She rests her head on his shoulder, and Jason assures himself he’s jealous of Ronnie, not her.

“Don’t say shit like that,” says Jason. “He might be a dumbass but that doesn’t make him a monster.”

“RUSCH!”

Jason cringes internally at the angry voice, but tries not to let anything show on his face. He turns around just as an angry hand slams into the wall above him. His books spill out of his arms.

Jake Romano looms over him, sweat beading on his forehead. His football pads only serve to make him look larger. He holds a crumpled page in an enormous fist.

“Hey Jake,” says Jason, trying to remain calm in the face of the raging bull. “What’s up?”

“You gave me an F on the bio lab!” Jake bellows in his face. “What the fuck, man? I told you if I don’t pass, I can’t play!”

“I’m not in charge of grading!” objected Jason, and he’s not. He’s only permitted to mark up multiple choice and short answer questions on the lower level exams. He does this menial task for Mr. Conway in exchange for free use of the labs after class. “Besides, Conway looks at every one of them. Even if I lied for you, he’d catch it.”

Jake slams his hand into the wall again, and this time Jason can’t help but flinch.

“Let me spell this out for you,” says Jake. “If I don’t play, we don’t make it to finals, and if we don’t make it to finals, then I got nothing left to lose, you hear me?” He drops the failed lab and seizes Jason by the collar. For a moment, Jason thinks Jake might lift him clear off his feet.

“Wait—Jake—let me help you,” babbles Jason. “I can tutor you, we can figure this out. I’ll talk to Conway. I’ll talk to your coach.”

Jake draws his other arm back, and Jason braces himself for the punch. But it never lands. Someone has grabbed him by the wrist and is holding him in place.

“What the hell are you doing, Jake?” asks Ronnie.

Jake tries to break free, but Ronnie is too strong.

“This—this dweeb is trying to get me kicked off the team!” shouts Jake. “He’s ruining my whole career!”

“Yeah?” Ronnie shoves Jake back towards the opposite wall, away from Jason. “You know what else will get you kicked off the team? Killing people. The recruiters won’t care about some stupid bio lab, but they’ll care if you put a guy in the hospital.”

Jake squares up, and for a moment Jason thinks he might be about to witness an ugly fight. But then he turns away and stomps off down the hall. Jason hurries to collect up his spilled books, and Ronnie kneels down to help him.

“Sorry about Jake,” says Ronnie. His voice is low, and soft. “He’s got it rough at home. He’s hoping if he gets a sports scholarship, he can get away from his dad. But he can’t take it out on you. Let me know if he gives you a hard time again, okay?”

Jason nods. His cheeks are burning, but he tells himself he’s just embarrassed about needing to be saved.

When the gunmen come, Jason knows exactly what they’re after. He’s ready to protect the particle Dr. Stein entrusted him with. With his life, if necessary.

And it looks like it might come down to exactly that.

“Any last words?” one of them sneers, raising her gun to Jason’s forehead.

“Just one,” says Jason.

At the same moment, Ronnie rushes forward, apparently intending to take the bullet meant for Jason. In retrospect, he shouldn’t have expected anything different.

Jason lets the canister fall from his hand and shatter on the floor.

“Firestorm,” he says.

Once the police and ambulances are gone and the building is deemed clear, once the initial shock wears off, once they're safely hidden in the drainage ditch behind the tennis courts, Ronnie wants to know everything.

Jason explains what he can—what he knows, and what he suspects. Dr. Stein’s mentorship, and his disappearance. The God Particle. The Firestorm Matrix, the shared mindscape that exists between them now and forever.

As Firestorm, Ronnie is the dominant mind, unintentionally pushing Jason to the side through pure exuberance. He flies effortlessly, powered by joy as much as stellar fusion. Whenever Jason tries to take control, he is immediately overwhelmed by facts and calculations, the speed of the air and the weight of his own body.

Being connected to Ronnie is kind of like being high, Jason thinks. Or at least, he guesses. He doesn't exactly know what being high feels like. But he imagines it’s something similar to the moment Ronnie spirals through the air, laughing joyously. "Was your mom a Tameranean?" Jason asks, only half joking.

On the other hand, Ronnie struggles with transmutation. Jason spends hours guiding him through the simplest transformations he can think of—hydrogen to water, helium to oxygen, nitrogen to ammonia. "I suck at science," he tells Jason. "You're so much smarter than me."

It’s okay, Jason reassures him. I’ll worry about that part. Though it’s not exactly a worry. His skill with transmutation more than makes up for his subpar capacity for flight. He turns a discarded paper coffee cup into an orange rose in full bloom.

He expects Ronnie to toss it aside, but instead he laughs and holds it in their shared hands, examining every petal as though it’s the most amazing thing he’s ever seen in his life.

Ronnie is fearless. When they face down their first mugger, Jason freezes up. He knows they have to transmute the gun, transmute the gun, TRANSMUTE THE GUN, but he cannot move. It is like every nightmare he’s had where his legs don’t work or the phone won’t dial 911, except this is very real.

Ronnie rushes forward at full speed, slamming Firestorm’s shoulder into the man’s chest. The gun goes flying. The mugger hits the ground. Firestorm stands triumphantly posed with a foot pressed firmly to his back until the cops arrive.

Firestorm makes the front page, but nobody recognizes him because what little humanity remains in his features are a mix of Ronnie’s and Jason’s, and nobody guesses they are two minds in a single body.

Eventually, through experimentation with their bond and the Firestorm Matrix, they realize they can transform without merging. They can both be Firestorm separately. It’s exciting, but only for a few minutes. Ronnie is hopeless at transmutation without Jason’s guidance, and Jason is far too worried about the inevitability of gravity to get off the ground.

“We’re better together,” proclaims Ronnie after Jason’s third failed attempt to take a flying leap only results in a faceful of grass. He heaves Jason to his feet and pats his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I don’t mind sharing a brain with you.”

Jason hopes the blinding light of Firestorm’s hair is enough to hide his blush.

Chapter Text

There’s not actually a whole lot of crime in Walton Mills. There’s whispers about the Shine family, who own half the town, but Jason and Ronnie aren’t sure how much of that is really true. Ronnie’s dad takes it pretty seriously, and he’s a journalist, so maybe he’d know. But he never wants to talk about them.

He never wants to talk about anything.

Before Firestorm, Jason never would have guessed that Ronnie’s relationship with his father was so fraught. Everything about Ronnie always seemed so perfect—the handsome football captain with the beautiful blonde girlfriend. Without even realizing it, Jason had constructed his own ideas about Ronnie’s family, and it turned out they were all incorrect.

Ronnie and his father live alone in the suburbs, and Mr. Raymond is rarely home. That makes it a safe spot to practice transmutation. On the days Ronnie doesn’t have football, they head to his house and spend a couple hours alternating between homework and trying to master their new abilities. The biggest thing the boys have noticed is Ronnie appears to be incapable of transmuting organic matter, though Jason says there's no reason why this should be the case. Ronnie doesn't particularly mind, though. He doesn't want to hurt people. Not like that.

At around five-thirty, they unfuse and wait. “I really want you to meet him,” Ronnie says. “Maybe he’ll be home early tonight.”

He never is.

Tonya is suspicious. Not about Firestorm, she hasn’t made that connection yet. Jason told her the same thing he told the police: that he had no idea why the gunmen came looking for him and no idea why their weapons all suddenly melted, and no idea why they babbled about men made of fire later in interrogation.

No, she’s suspicious about Ronnie.

“He’s got a girlfriend, you know,” Tonya warns.

Jason’s face warms. “So what? I don’t—I’m not—”

“Sure, Jason.” She rolls her eyes.

If there’s anyone he thinks he could trust with Firestorm, it’s Tonya. But she already has so much weighing on her. The school paper. Honors courses and AP tests. Her college plans.

“GSA’s meeting today. After school.” She nudges him with her shoulder. “You know you’re welcome to come hang out.”

Jason looks down at his knees. “I’m not really big on rainbows.”

Tonya rolls her eyes. “How are you this deep in denial? If you’ve been watching Cliff’s stupid videos, I’m gonna punt you into the sun.”

“No.” That, at least, is the truth. He’s tried to watch them, tried to understand what Cliff is feeling and what he feels when he listens to those men speak, but something about them turns his stomach every time.

“Come hang out after school,” she instructs. “We’ll find you a guy who isn’t dating the future Miss New York.”

“Maybe next time,” says Jason, because what will Cliff say if he finds out Jason was there? He’d have a complete meltdown.

Tonya, thankfully, doesn’t push it.

“I…” Jason swallows. “I miss Professor Stein.”

Tonya presses her lips together and nods. “Still no word from him?”

Jason shakes his head. “Maybe he’s…”

“Maybe,” says Tonya. “But he was a smart guy. Bet he found a great hiding spot and he’s just waiting for everything to blow over.” She pauses. “Do you think… the men who showed up…”

They’ve hardly talked about it. The attack. People have asked him, everyone’s asked him, Jason spent weeks dodging the press until his mom smashed a camera with a rolling pin and threatened to sue them all into oblivion, but Tonya hasn’t asked. She’s waited for him to be ready to talk.

“Yeah,” says Jason. “They were looking for him.”

Firestorm keeps his head down for the first year—or as much as he can when his hair is on fire. They stop muggers and rescue cats from trees. There’s the rare bank robbery.

They might have flown quietly under the radar until graduation if not for Multiplex. He’s the first and only real challenge they’ve faced.

At first, Jason had been excited to learn one of Professor Stein’s old colleagues was in town. He had never met Danton Black before, but he considered anyone who worked with Stein a friend. He'd been mistaken.

Ronnie wants to blast him into dust, but Jason knows there’s way too many civilians around, so Firestorm lures him out of town so they can fight unimpeded. They scorch the earth and boil creeks while Multiplex strikes back again and again, but something is off. Something feels wrong.

They are being watched.

Firestorm turns and sees a red and blue figure hanging in the air behind them. His cape flutters a bit in the wind.

Inside their shared mind, Ronnie screams and Jason nearly passes out. Firestorm hovers there, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

“Don’t mind me, son.” His voice is warm and friendly. He is the father Jason never had, the father Ronnie longs for. “You’re doing great. Pretend I’m not even here.”

When Doreen breaks up with Ronnie, it’s not exactly a surprise. He’s been growing more distant with each passing day, unable to explain the burden he carries.

The adults have already warned them that they’re young, that it might not last forever. Ronnie always scoffed at this, and he still thinks if Firestorm hadn’t happened, he might be picking out engagement rings after graduation.

Chapter Text

After Multiplex, it’s Killer Frost who comes to town. Like Danton Black, she knew Professor Stein. And like Danton Black, her memories are not fond.

Unlike Danton Black, she wants to do as much collateral damage as possible. She covers the entire town in a thick layer of frost and proclaims herself it’s queen. She’s talkative, happily laying out her plan to take over all of New York, marry her favorite Hollywood celebrity, and make everyone regret mistreating her.

“I will grant you the opportunity to be a part of my new kingdom,” says Killer Frost. “If you prove your loyalty, I may even give you a parcel of it to rule over yourself.”

Firestorm breathes deeply, catching his breath. "One sec," he says, raising a finger. His attacks have not been doing much to slow her down. "Let me think about that. Uhh... no. I'm out!" He throws one last wave of fire in her direction and takes off into the sky like a bullet.

Well that could have gone better.

Ronnie swallows hard. “I didn't want hit a girl anyway.”

You might have to hit this one. Did you see how our flames haven’t been doing anything to her?

“I’ll circle back and try again.”

Maybe. But Jason isn’t certain. Be careful, okay?

“She’s ice. We’re fire. We can’t not win.”

I wouldn’t be so sure of that…

Firestorm swings back around, only to be greeted by a volley of icicle spears. In an instant, Jason transforms them into flower petals. Once the space in front of them is clear, Ronnie hurls an enormous fireball at the figure on the ground.

It roars as it collides with Killer Frost, but as soon as it dissipates, they can hear her high-pitched laughter echo over the snowbanks.

She’s absorbing the heat! cries Jason. It’s making her stronger!

“Then I’ll hit her again,” says Ronnie. “And again, and again, and however many times—”

No, says Jason. You’re only powering her up, same as Multiplex.

“Then can we defeat her the same way we did him? Just charging him up until he explodes?”

Probably not. Let’s fall back, I gotta think.

“I hate this,” grumbles Ronnie, but he flies them away, well out of range of Killer Frost’s icicles. “I hope everyone doesn’t think we ditched them.”

They touch down by the sign that reads Welcome to Walton Mills: Home of the Vikings. The frost isn’t too deep here, but the real reason they choose it is the figures standing beside it: one in red and blue, the other in black, and the vehicle that is equal parts sports car and tank.

“Afternoon, son,” says Superman, striding towards them. “I’m glad to see you’re safe. Why don’t you brief us on the situation here?”

Firestorm tries to straighten up, to mirror Superman’s strong, confident pose. “The ice was caused by a lady named Killer Frost. She’s moved into the Shine mansion, and she’s got the mayor with her.”

Superman nods. “Any other hostages?”

“I don’t know. The Shines were putting up a really good fight. Mrs. Shine even shot her with a shotgun but she just laughed it off.”

I think I believe that mob stuff about them now, comments Jason.

“You were right to get away,” says Superman. “Killer Frost sounds like trouble. Don’t worry. Batman and I will handle her.”

Both halves of Firestorm are mortified. “No! It’s not like that!” babbles Ronnie. “This is just a, uh—”

Tactical retreat, says Jason.

“Yeah, a tactical retreat. We’re gonna go back and save everyone. Once I think of a plan.”

It’s hard to make out Batman’s expression behind his cowl, but it looks like he’s rolling his eyes. Superman, however, shows no such skepticism.

“What did you have in mind?” From anyone else, the words would have been condescending. But Jason and Ronnie can both sense his sincerity.

“We don’t have time to play, Kal,” says Batman.

“I’m not playing. This is Firestorm’s territory. You don’t tell me how to protect Metropolis. I don’t tell you how to protect Gotham. And neither of us tell him how to protect Walton Mills.”

Batman crosses his arms and purses his lips, but he doesn’t argue.

“She doesn’t react to fire,” says Ronnie. “I mean, you’d think I could just melt her… but she soaks it right up. It might even be making her more powerful. And if she gets too close to you, all the water in your body freezes.”

“Has she made any demands?”

“She came looking for Professor Stein. He used to live in town, but he disappeared like a year ago. She got really mad when we told her nobody knew where he was. And then she said she’s gonna be queen of the world.”

“Of course,” grumbles Batman.

“So no heat, and likely no close range combat,” says Superman.

“Yeah.”

“In that case…” Superman turns to discuss ideas with Batman, but Ronnie doesn’t hear it because Jason cries out inside their shared mind.

Wait. Hang on. I’ve figured it out! She’s a heat sink!

“What?”

She’s not making things cold, she’s taking away their warmth.

“What’s the difference?”

The difference is she needs heat to keep herself going. That’s why she’s stealing it. So we can stop her if we hit her with ice! If we freeze the air around her!

“That makes no sense!” cries Ronnie. “She’s made of ice! She was throwing ice at us two minutes ago!”

“Son,” says Superman. “Who are you talking to?”

Oh god, moans Jason.

“Uh…” Ronnie looks from Superman to Batman. They’re both eyeing him as if he’s potentially dangerous. “Jason.”

“I see,” says Superman. His voice is still calm, still collected, but there’s a gentleness to it that wasn’t there a minute ago. “Is Jason a friend?”

“Best friend. Yeah.”

He thinks we’re insane!

“Good, good,” Superman says. “Can you tell me about him?”

Superman thinks we’re insane!

“Uh. He says you think I’m nuts.”

“What? No. No, I don’t think that…” He looks over at Batman. “We don’t think that at all, do we?”

“I don’t believe in lying to children,” rumbles Batman.

“Look, I think I know how to stop her. I hope.” Firestorm laces his fingers together. “It’s worth a shot, right? If you can help me…distract her, keep her busy, I think I can freeze her for good. And if I’m wrong I’ll step back and wait in the car while you two do whatever you think is best.”

“You’re not getting in the Batmobile with your hair on fire,” says Batman. “You’ll wreck the interior.”

“We’ll follow your lead, Firestorm,” interrupts Superman. “Just tell us what you have in mind.”

“I really hope you’re right about this,” says Ronnie as they fly over the frozen rooftops. “Or it’s gonna get really embarrassing.”

More embarrassing than Superman and Batman thinking you’ve got an imaginary friend?

“Still deciding.”

Killer Frost drifts over the ice, almost aimlessly. Her feet hang just a few inches off the ground, and ice flows from her fingertips as she moves. Ronnie wants to throw more flames at her, but he knows he has to stick to the plan.

Down on the ground, Superman and Batman both move in to distract her. They fight incredibly well together, despite their differences in abilities and styles. They’ve obviously been doing this for a very long time.

Okay, they’ve got her attention, says Jason. Are you ready?

“Yeah.” Ronnie flies lower, trying to get within range. “What are we gonna do once this doesn’t work?”

Jason doesn’t reply; he’s too busy working on the transmutation sequence. Oxygen to water is easy, but freezing it takes a little more thought.

Killer Frost spins around as she detects the drop in temperature. Her pretty face twists into a snarl and she reaches out towards Firestorm with both hands, but she’s already slowing. A few more icicle lances fly towards him, but they're weak and easily avoided. The anger on her face is just beginning to give way to panic when she finally stops moving altogether. Then Killer Frost stands, unmoving, in a block of ice.

“I don’t believe it,” says Ronnie. “It worked!”

I told you! Jason cries, but really, he’s just as relieved.

“That was some good thinking,” says Superman, touching down just behind Firestorm. “Can you make sure she remains frozen until we’re able to transport her?”

Ronnie nods. “I’ll keep her cold.”

Superman steps away to address the police officers who have emerged from the melting ice. Batman has already vanished—impressive, considering his color scheme against the landscape.

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” says Ronnie, keeping his voice low. “I should have known your idea would work.”

No, it’s okay. It was a weird one.

“Yeah, but I still should have trusted you.”

Don’t beat yourself up about it.

“Should we tell Superman there’s two of us in here?”

Probably, but there’s too many people around now. We’ll have to wait.

“I hate the idea that they think we’re nuts.”

Yeah, but it could be worse. At least we showed them we’re not totally helpless.

“I guess.” Ronnie wiggles his arms a little—they’re getting stiff. “I hope your mom found somewhere safe to hide.”

Yeah. And same for your dad.

Ronnie shrugs. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

After about an hour of yelling, phone calls, and arguments with the local police, Killer Frost is loaded into a refrigerated truck. They don’t know where she’s being taken, and don’t ask. All the attention is on Superman now, of course, and both halves of Firestorm are ready to slip away when Superman approaches them again.

“Good work today,” he says. “We’ll make sure she’s kept somewhere safe. You don't have to worry about her anymore.”

“I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here,” says Ronnie.

“It was no trouble,” says Superman. “I’ve been meaning to check in on you anyway. Your abilities are impressive, and I'm pleased to see how you've been using them.”

Firestorm grins broadly, too delighted to speak.

“We’ll be in touch. And don’t be afraid to reach out if you need reinforcements. You don’t have to do it alone.” He pauses. “Either of you.”

“Do you want to meet Jason?” asks Ronnie eagerly. “We’d have to go somewhere else, away from the police and cameras, but I promise he’s real.”

“I believe you,” says Superman. “I’ve seen far stranger things. Perhaps next time.” He envelopes Firestorm’s hand in a handshake that is simultaneously gentle and immensely powerful. “As I said. We’ll be in touch.”

A few days after the last of the frost melts, they’re back at Ronnie’s house. Instead of practicing transmutation, though, they’re just working on homework in relative silence, separate but together.

“Do you get this?” asks Ronnie, indicating a question on a worksheet. Jason sets his own book down to take a look.

“What’s it… oh, yeah. Here.” Jason circles the pertinent parts of the question for him. “Those are the numbers you need to plug into the formula. Do you know which goes where?”

“No,” says Ronnie. “I usually just try ‘em in every combination until they come out right.”

Jason stifles a laugh. “Okay, well, that’s…a choice.”

“Sorry.” Ronnie grins at him. “You know I’m stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” says Jason. “Not at all.”

“Come on.”

“You’re not,” insists Jason. “And even if you were, you’re brave, and strong, and…and you’re kind. I can’t think of a single person I’d rather be Firestorm with, and I hope we can do it forever.”

The intensity in Ronnie’s gaze makes Jason’s stomach drop, and Jason fears he’s gone too far, revealed too much.

“I mean—” Jason begins, intending to walk his last statement back.

“If you—” says Ronnie simultaneously.

They both fall silent.

“You go first,” says Ronnie.

“I…” He’s forgotten what he was going to say. Ronnie’s eyes are so blue. “I…”

“Yeah?” Is Ronnie leaning in? Is Jason imagining it? No, he’s not. But he’s just leaning in to listen. Just leaning in to listen. Because Ronnie asked a question, and Jason isn’t answering it, he’s just stammering like an idiot.

His lips are awfully close for someone who just wants to listen.

“Has anyone ever kissed you before?” asks Ronnie.

Jason doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he just shakes his head no.

“Close your eyes,” says Ronnie softly.

Jason closes them. He feels Ronnie’s hand on his chin. A thumb brushes over his lower lip.

The front door slams open and a red-haired man stomps into the house. Jason jerks back automatically, fighting back his instinct to transform and fly out of there.

“Dad!” says Ronnie, standing up very quickly. “You’re home. I—”

“I want you to explain this!” Edward Raymond holds a piece of paper crumpled in his fist. “It’s a letter from your coach. He says you’re one more missed practice from being suspended from the team!”

“But Dad, I—”

Mr. Raymond strikes Ronnie across the face. Jason gasps, but the man goes on yelling.

“You’ve been missing practice, screwing up games, staying out all hours of the night! It stops now, understand? Right now!”

Ronnie nods wordlessly, head lowered, a hand pressed to his cheek where his father hit him. Jason remains seated on the couch, frozen, paralyzed, just as he’d been when they faced down their first mugger.

Mr. Raymond’s eyes turn to him. Jason can feel his heartbeat in his throat. How much did he see? Did they pull away in time?

“Who are you?” Mr. Raymond demands. “What are you doing here?”

“I, I’m a friend of Ronnie’s. From school. We were doing homework.” Jason gestures to the pages scattered around them as evidence.

“You should go.”

Jason doesn’t want to leave Ronnie alone with his father, but he knows the score. He doesn’t even belong on this side of town, let alone in the Raymond house. He collects up his things quickly, throwing them carelessly into his backpack. With one last apologetic look at Ronnie, he leaves the house, heart threatening to burst out of his chest.

About an hour later, after Jason is safely back home, his phone buzzes. It’s a text from Ronnie.

I’m sorry about that.

Jason swallows, and hastens to respond. Me too.

After a moment, a second message pops up.

He’s not usually like that.

Jason isn’t sure if he believes this. He stares down at his keyboard, trying to think of what to say next. Before he can decide, Ronnie sends a third message.

I hope he didn’t scare you too bad.

Jason taps out the words He didn’t hurt you, did he? but then deletes them. It’s a stupid question, he watched Edward Raymond hit his son, and Ronnie probably doesn’t want to talk about that. Instead, the message he sends reads, Do you want to go for a flight?

I’d love to but I gotta stay in tonight. If he comes back and finds me gone, I dunno what he’ll do.

Jason stares down at his screen, wanting to say something else but unable to think of anything coherent. Finally, he manages a brief I’m sorry.

It wasn’t your fault.

Jason holds his breath as he types, How much did he see?

The response comes after an agonizingly long minute.

I don’t know.

Jason isn’t brave enough to type the words he really wants to say. He stares at the screen helplessly until two more messages pop up from Ronnie in rapid succession.

I want to finish what we started.

Meet me after practice tomorrow?

Chapter Text

“Jason, you’ve got to calm down.”

“I’m calm!” Jason shouts into the phone. “I’m calm but I’m freaking out!”

“That’s not calm,” sighs Tonya. “That’s the opposite of calm.”

“I don’t know what to do!”

“Okay, let’s start from the beginning. We’re gonna do points. Point one: Do you want to meet him tomorrow?”

“Yes!”

“Point two: Do you think this is some kind of prank?”

“No. No way, he’s not like that. Plus he had no way of knowing his dad would walk in.”

“Okay, point three: What are you scared of?”

“I…” Jason struggles to find the words. “I…just…I…”

“Is it Cliff?” asks Tonya. “You know I’m cool, your mom is cool…it’s Cliff, isn’t it?”

“I mean…” Jason shrugs, even though Tonya can’t see him. “He shouldn’t be mad, right? Two less guys competing for girls raises his chances, right?”

“Do you really think he’ll see it that way?”

“No,” admits Jason.

“Jason, I think it’s time for you to admit that the old Cliff is gone,” says Tonya. “He’s not the guy we grew up with anymore. Maybe one day he’ll snap out of it, but…”

“I know.” But it isn’t easy to set aside so many good memories, reaching as far back as preschool. Especially when Ronnie only showed up in Walton Mills last year. It feels disloyal, somehow.

Tonya sighs heavily. “I get it. Sometimes I see something that reminds me of him… a meme I want to text him, or a stupid joke, or whatever. But I know it’ll just end in him ranting at me.”

“I’m sorry,” says Jason. “The way he’s treated you…it’s not right. It’s awful. Maybe I’m a bad friend for not ditching him too. I just can’t stop hoping he’ll change.”

“You’re not a bad friend,” Tonya insists. “You’re kind of an idiot, but you’re not a bad friend. But you can’t pull his head out of his ass for him, he’s gotta do it on his own.”

“I know.”

They sit in quiet contemplation for a while. Jason switches the phone to his other ear.

“I’ll admit, I’m surprised,” says Tonya. “He wasn’t dinging my gaydar at all. Or bidar. Whatever. I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

Jason laughs. “It’s okay. I'm surprised too.”

“Yeah. How did you guys even meet? You don’t have any classes together, do you? I can’t exactly see him in AP Chem. No offense.”

Jason swallows. “It’s a long story. I guess I’m kind of tutoring him? But he’s really nice. Nicer than I ever imagined.”

“Yeah?” He can hear the smile in Tonya’s voice. “Then I’m glad. I don’t care if he’s a dumb jock. I’m happy for you.”

Ronnie wakes up with no bruises that he can't pass off as football injuries. He checks his phone, but there aren’t any more messages from Jason after that final okay.

Okay. Ronnie bites his lower lip, thinking. What does okay mean in this context? Is it indifferent? Scared? Eager? There isn’t even any punctuation to give him a hint. He’d pay good money for an exclamation point.

The day passes agonizingly slowly. Ronnie doesn’t spot Jason until lunch, but Jason’s already sitting with his own friends and Ronnie knows the team expects him to eat with them. He feels guilty about how badly he’s been neglecting them, even if Firestorm is probably a little bit more important than football. Still, he’s their captain and he owes them his full attention, especially now that recruiters are starting to show up to the games.

He somehow manages to catch Jason's eye across the cafeteria and gives him a smile. Jason returns it, and the jittery feeling in his stomach subsides.

During practice, Ronnie checks the stands for Jason multiple times, but he’s not around. He forces himself to chill out. He knows Jason isn’t really into football, he can’t expect him to sit around watching for hours, especially not when he’s preparing for so many AP exams. He tells himself it’s no big deal, Jason’s probably busy, or maybe Ronnie misread the entire situation and that’s fine, he’s been turned down before. Ronnie won’t let it ruin their friendship. He won’t let it tear Firestorm in half. He’ll just spend a couple days being absolutely mortified, and then get over it.

But Jason does show up. He’s waiting outside the locker room when Ronnie emerges, bag slung over his shoulder. Ronnie waits for his teammates to clear out before approaching him.

“Hey,” says Ronnie. “I thought you might not…”

Jason shakes his head. “I got caught up in my lab work. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. That sounds important.” Ronnie takes a hesitant step in his direction. Jason doesn’t move forward, but he doesn't retreat either. “Jace? Talk to me. Tell me what you want.”

“I…”

“We can forget the whole thing right now if—”

“No.” Abruptly, Jason closes the distance between them, and they are standing chest to chest. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I want at all. I just…I’m scared.”

Ronnie wraps Jason in an embrace almost instinctively, and Jason melts into his arms. “Scared of what?”

“I don’t know. Everything.” Jason presses his face into Ronnie’s chest. “I’m not brave like you.”

“That’s not true. That’s not true at all. If you weren’t brave, you’d sit at home and let me be Firestorm all by myself.” Ronnie rubs his back comfortingly.

“If I was brave I wouldn’t have left you yesterday.”

Ronnie’s hand freezes. “That’s… that was different. You didn’t have a choice. You did the right thing. Staying would have made it a lot worse.”

“Are you safe?” asks Jason. “At home, I mean?”

“Whaaat?” Ronnie grins at him. “Of course I am. You just had a really bad first impression. Dad’s not actually like that. You’ll see.”

“Okay,” mumbles Jason.

Ronnie cups Jason’s chin and tilts his face up. “Don’t worry. I mean it.” He leans in. Jason closes his eyes.

The kiss is soft. Jason is less confident than Doreen, less experienced, so Ronnie is gentler with him, careful not to push too hard or too quickly. Jason leans in to Ronnie and does not pull away until they need to breathe again.

“That’s what I wanted to do yesterday.” Ronnie touches their foreheads together. “And what I want to do tomorrow.”

Firestorm pulls two kids and their dog out of a ravine. These are the sort of rescues he likes best, the ones with no bad guys, just good people who need a little bit of help.

Ronnie, did you notice those boxes? Jason asks once the kids are safely back on the ground and have had their obligatory selfie with the local metahuman.

“No, what boxes?”

Down in the gorge. Like wooden crates. It was hard to see but I’m pretty sure.

“Let’s go take a look,” says Ronnie, who never needs an excuse to jump into the air. “Maybe it’s treasure.”

The crates are rectangular in shape, and stacked irregularly a few hundred feet from where the children had huddled. Firestorm approaches them, running his hand over the wood.

No logos or stamps, observes Jason.

“They’re nailed shut. Can you…?”

Yeah. With only a moment’s thought, the nails in the nearest crate turn to water. Ronnie slides the top off easily, revealing the contents: A cache of long black rifles nested among crumpled balls of brown packing paper.

“Holy shit!”

Shh, Ronnie! Jason is suddenly very aware of how exposed they are, how anyone could walk up on them. Ronnie seems to realize it too, and he looks around furtively. Holy crap. We have to get out of here.

“And leave a box of guns open in a spot where we know at least two kids have been playing?” counters Ronnie. “No way. We gotta at least transmute them first.”

They’re probably not loaded, nobody would transport loaded guns, would they?

“We still gotta get rid of them,” Ronnie insists.

But what if someone comes looking for them?

“If they wanted to keep them, they shouldn’t have dumped them in a ditch!” Firestorm holds his hands out. “If you won’t transmute them, I’ll do it. And if they turn into molten lava, that’s on you.”

Jason laughs at this mental image. You can do water. I believe in you. Hydrogen and oxygen. You got this.

It takes Ronnie a long time to destroy the crate and its contents, but Jason is impressed by his determination. He resolves to start working on his flight skills when he has some free time.

“What about the others?” asks Ronnie. There are at least four more crates in the ravine. “Should we…?”

Jason can sense Ronnie’s uncertainty. The other crates are still nailed shut, so it’s not likely any kids are going to be getting into them. And they might not want to tangle with whoever left them behind.

Maybe we should call the Justice League?

“For regular guns? They might laugh at us.”

This is more than regular guns, this is a stockpile. Jason can’t exactly shudder, but he wants to. What the hell is going on in this town?

Chapter Text

Ronnie waits up until nearly midnight for his father to come home.

“Ronald?” Ed Raymond peers at him groggily. “Why are you still up? You’ve got school in the morning.”

“Yeah, I know,” says Ronnie. “I just…I really wanted to talk to you.”

His father gives him a suspicious look. “If you’ve been expelled—”

“No!” Ronnie cries hastily. It’s not a completely unfair accusation, he has been kicked out of schools for his lousy academic performance in the past, but they moved around so often that it hardly mattered. But Ronnie’s been doing great since Jason started helping him, and he has no intention of leaving Walton Mills until the day he gets scouted. “No, Dad, it’s nothing bad. It’s just. I’ve missed you, you know? You’ve been so busy lately.”

Ronnie’s father rubs his temples. “I’m tired, Ronnie. You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had. We’ll talk later, okay? This weekend.”

Ronnie nods silently and watches his father disappear up the steps. He’s left a trail of muddy footprints behind him.

They don’t talk that weekend.

A few days later, Firestorm returns to the ravine where the crates are hidden. Ronnie and Jason had initially decided to leave the unopened ones alone, but they’ve been unable to forget what they saw, or stop wondering what’s in the other boxes.

If anyone has been here in the meantime, they’ve left no evidence behind.

“Which one first?” asks Ronnie.

How about the smallest?

“Okay.” Firestorm stretches one hand out and the nails holding the lid down turn to water.

It’s not guns in the crate this time. It’s grenades.

“Maybe we should have left this alone,” mumbles Ronnie, backing away. “Maybe this is over our heads.”

Maybe we should have called the League after all.

“Can you get rid of them?”

It’s the fastest transmutation Jason has ever done, so quick that the wave of freshwater that comes at them soaks Firestorm up to his knees. He doesn’t regret it.

“And the rest?” asks Ronnie.

Part of Jason wants to refuse, to turn away and pretend they never saw any of this, but he knows he can’t. The crates and their contents will haunt him until they’re destroyed. He thinks of the gunmen who walked into Walton Mills High looking for Professor Stein’s invention. Nobody had died that day, but it could have gone very differently…

There are two more crates in plain sight, and a third tucked away beneath a ledge. Guns, body armor, and another cache of grenades. By the time Firestorm is done, there’s a small pond forming in the ravine.

What the hell was any of that? asks Jason as they fly away. It’s like someone’s building their very own army.

“I hope we never find out,” mutters Ronnie.

"You're Jason, right?"

Jason turns away from his locker and stares up into the faces of two varsity football players. He nods silently, trying to fight down his unease.

One of the young men says, "It's Ronnie’s birthday next month. Were you planning anything?"

Jason shakes his head, tongue-tied, wondering where this conversation is going.

"The team is gonna surprise him. We're all gonna meet up at Jackson's place." He indicates the other football player. "You should come. He'd want you there."

"Oh." He's being invited to a party? A party hosted by a bunch of football players? "Yeah. Yeah, definitely. Thanks."

"Don't look so shocked, man." Jackson laughs. "He never shuts up about you."

Oh my God they think we're dating.

He's wearing Ronnie's letterman jacket right now.

Maybe we are dating?

Ronnie hadn’t bequeathed it to him in some grand romantic gesture. It had actually been in a quiet, unremarkable moment two days ago, walking together in the evening after a game. Jason had been cold and so Ronnie offered his jacket and he is still wearing it now because it's warm and smells nice and why hasn’t he realized what it meant until right this minute?

"You should come around more often," says the other boy. "If you're worried about…" his voice trails off awkwardly. "Nobody will give you a hard time."

"And if they do…" Jackson punches into his own open palm. "You just tell us. Okay?"

“Okay,” says Jason weakly.

Cliff comes up just as the two leave. “What did they want?” he asks disdainfully.

“Nothing, really.” Jason waits for Cliff to spot the jacket, to get confused, or angry, or even make fun of him, but Cliff is on his phone, typing something at a ferocious speed.

They have the next three classes together, and Cliff never notices Ronnie’s surname stitched across Jason’s back.

It was an accident.

It was an accident, but a man is still dead.

It happened so quickly. So quickly that Firestorm is still processing it, still replaying it in his mind over and over and over and over—

I didn’t know, sobs Jason. Oh my god, Ronnie, I didn’t know!

There had been police cars all around the mayor’s mansion, and helicopters overhead. The crowds gathered outside were murmuring about a hostage situation. Firestorm had gone in, intent on turning the intruder’s weapon to ashes and handing him over to the police.

He hadn’t known the man was carrying a bomb. For blasting open the vault, the police had theorized. They didn’t seem too bothered by the loss of life. Who was the man? Just a criminal in too many pieces to ever identify now.

Ronnie has absolutely no idea how it all went so wrong so quickly. The metal of the gun, the metal of the bomb, the wires, the plastic, the chemicals? What did Jason do wrong? What had he tripped or triggered during the transmutation? Ronnie doesn’t know, and Jason is in no state to tell him.

And what had the man been after? Why did the mayor have a vault, and what was in it that had apparently been worth dying for?

Nobody’s business, apparently.

The mayor is safe, his staff is safe. Everyone seems more annoyed about the damage caused by the explosion than the death. Ronnie decides he doesn’t care about any of them right now. He takes to the skies, intent on getting Jason far away from the site of their first awful failure.

As Firestorm, it’s easy to reach hidden places, secluded places. Once they’re far enough from town, he lands in a field that he thinks might be part of the local nature preserve.

“Jace,” says Ronnie. “Jace, it wasn’t your fault.”

Jason doesn’t answer but Ronnie can sense his misery as if it is his own. Firestorm wraps his arms around himself and squeezes as tightly as he can. The tears evaporate off his face in a matter of seconds, but there is no suppressing his awful, wrenching sobs.

Chapter Text

“We’ll stay here for as long as you need,” promises Ronnie as Jason continues to sob brokenly. He hugs himself tightly, hoping that Jason can feel it and knows it’s meant for him.

Superman finds them about half an hour later. Ronnie doesn’t know if he saw it on the news or somehow managed to hear Firestorm cry from a couple hundred miles away, but either way he’s relieved that someone smarter than him is around to take charge.

“Hey, son,” he says. “What happened?”

“Hang on,” says Ronnie. “Let me…”

Firestorm decombines, and Ronnie and Jason stand before Superman as themselves. After ending a fusion, they usually find themselves standing back to back or side by side. But this time, Jason is clinging to him, face buried in Ronnie’s neck.

“Hi,” says Ronnie, raising one hand in a weak greeting. “I’m Ronnie. And this is Jason.”

“Oh.” Superman’s eyes widen a bit. “There really are two of you.”

“You didn’t believe me?” asks Ronnie, a little hurt.

“I did, but I didn’t think you meant it so literally.” He looks back and forth between them. “This is a new one. Even for me.”

“We can also become Firestorms on our own,” offers Ronnie. “But we’re better together. We’re stronger together.”

“Are we?” whispers Jason.

“Yes.” Ronnie squeezes him tight. “Jace, it’s okay. It was an accident.”

“If I hadn’t been there—”

“If you hadn’t been there, that guy might have killed everyone in the building!” Ronnie interrupts. “And maybe some cops on the way out, too!”

“He’s right,” says Superman. “We don’t know what his intentions were, but you saved more than you lost. Firestorm acted heroically today.”

“I don’t feel like a hero,” Jason mumbles.

“You have a good heart.” Superman steps closer and, after a moment, pulls them into a hug. Ronnie is acutely aware that he could snap both their spines, but also knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he won’t.

For some reason, being hugged like this makes Ronnie want to cry. He doesn’t understand why, at first, until he realizes he’s thinking of his father.

“The loss of a life is always a tragedy, even when it’s the life of an enemy. But sometimes, no matter what we do… no matter how careful we are… it can’t be avoided. If you continue with this life of work, and I hope you do, be aware that you’ll make mistakes. You’ll misjudge and miscalculate. It happens to all of us. The important thing is we learn, and we keep striving.” He releases them and steps back. “I look forward to fighting alongside you.”

Jason isn’t in school the next day, so Ronnie goes around to all his classes and collects up the assignments he missed. Tonya gives him Jason’s address when he explains what he’s doing. She also offers him a series of GSA stickers with every pride pattern he’s ever heard of, and a few he hasn’t. He takes the one in pink and yellow and blue and thanks her.

Jason lives in an apartment complex in a part of town that Ronnie isn’t too familiar with. He walks up the stairs and rings the doorbell, hoping he’s got the right place.

The door is answered by a woman wearing hospital scrubs. “Hello?” she says, looking a little puzzled.

“Hi. Mrs. Rusch?”

“Yes?”

“I’m Ronnie. I’m, uh, a friend of Jason’s. I brought his homework. I knew he wouldn’t want to fall behind, so…”

Jason’s mom smiles warmly at him. “Oh, how kind of you. Why don’t you come in?”

Ronnie steps into the apartment and looks around. It’s a little bit cramped, but very tidy, and every room has a soft golden glow that makes him think of a woodland cottage.

“Ronne,” says Mrs. Rusch. “I wonder…Raymond?”

“Yeah. Did you see me in the paper?” It seems like he’s on the front page at least once a month. It’s a little silly, and he wishes they’d give the rest of his teammates equal attention.

“I might have.” Mrs. Rusch smiles again, this time mischievously. “I might have also seen your jacket floating around my home.”

“Oh.” Ronnie swallows, hesitant, but Mrs. Rusch is still smiling. “I. Uh. Yeah. If that’s okay?” He has no idea what he’s even asking for. Permission to exist?

She glosses over his strange question. “I’m glad to finally meet you. I don’t think Jason would have ever brought you around. I’m not that embarrassing, am I?” She laughs.

“How’s he doing?” asks Ronnie. “I texted him, but he never replied.”

Mrs. Rusch frowns a little. “To be honest, I was hoping you could tell me. I don’t think he has a virus, or the flu, but he just wouldn’t get up. He’s never done that, ever. Even when he had pneumonia, I practically had to duct tape him into bed to stop him from getting on the bus. He hates to miss class. I thought maybe something happened at school.”

He wants to tell her. He wants to tell her so much, because she is obviously kind, obviously has more compassion in her little finger than Ronnie’s dad has in his entire body, but this isn’t Ronnie’s secret to disclose. It’s Jason’s.

“I’m not sure,” says Ronnie. “He hasn’t told me either. I was hoping maybe I could talk to him? If he’s up for it.”

Mrs. Rusch leads him to a closed door and knocks lightly.

“Jason? Ronnie’s here to see you. Can I let him in?”

After a long minute, Ronnie hears a faint murmur of, “Yeah.”

Ronnie enters the room. The light is off, but it’s still bright enough outside that he can see without a problem. Jason is in bed, beneath his covers, laying on his side and staring at the opposite wall. Ronnie pulls the door shut behind himself.

“Jace.” Ronnie approaches slowly. “I brought you your homework.”

“Thanks,” whispers Jason. He does not move.

Ronnie thinks of all the things he can say, all the empty consolatory words and platitudes that probably won’t make Jason feel any better. He kicks his shoes off and climbs onto the bed, wrapping his arms around Jason from behind.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” whispers Jason.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Ronnie kisses the back of Jason’s neck briefly. “Can I get you anything?”

“No.”

“Your mom is really nice,” says Ronnie encouragingly.

“Yeah.”

“If my mom was around, I’d want her to be…” Ronnie stops, unprepared for the swell of emotion that rises in his chest at the sentence he was about to say.

“Sorry,” whispers Jason.

“Nah. It’s okay.” Ronnie hugs him again. “I hardly remember her anyway.”

“What happened to her?”

“Car accident. Really bad. Closed casket. Dad doesn’t like to talk about it.” He pauses. “What about your dad?”

“He sucked. Mom moved us here to get away from him.”

“You weren’t born in Walton Mills?”

“No. Detroit. We moved here when I was four. Tonya’s mom was one of the first friends she made. Mom was so afraid Dad would come after us, but he never did.”

“You’ve lived here practically your whole life, though,” says Ronnie. “It’s your home. We moved around so much after Mom died, I don’t really feel like I’m from anywhere. And then next fall, who knows where I’ll end up?”

“I don’t want to think about that,” whispers Jason.

“Yeah.” Ronnie sighs. “Hey. Maybe we’ll get lucky and end up at the same place.”

“I don’t think MIT is really known for its football program.”

Ronnie laughs. “Yeah, it’s Division III.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means no athletic scholarships.” Ronnie smiles. “Means I’m not getting through the front door. But Harvard’s close, isn’t it? Maybe they’ll want me.”

“What’s the minimum GPA for football players?”

“Two point something. Two point three.”

Jason wheezes into his pillow. “Oh my god.”

“What’s it for non-football players?”

“Four.”

Ronnie laughs. “Oh god, that’s so messed up.” He pauses. “Is it MIT for sure?”

“They haven’t accepted me yet, but they’re my top choice. It’s probably going to come down to who gives me the best scholarship, though. But I know my grades are good enough and Professor Stein wrote me a great letter of recommendation. I remember thinking it was weird he did it so early, but maybe… maybe he knew he wouldn’t be around for senior year.”

“I wonder where he is now.”

“I wonder that every single day.” Jason rolls over to face Ronnie. His face is puffy, and swollen with old tears. “Thanks for coming to check on me.”

“It was an accident,” says Ronnie. “And, hey, if our positions were swapped… you’d never ever blame me, would you?”

Jason shakes his head.

“So don’t blame yourself. It’s not fair.”

“I’ll try,” Jason whispers.

Ronnie touches their foreheads together. “Are you doing anything this weekend?”

“This weekend? No.”

“Okay. Cuz… we’re been invited somewhere.”

“Both of us?”

“Yeah.”

“Where?”

“Metropolis.”

“Metropolis?” repeats Jason. “What’s in—?”

He stops. Ronnie grins.

“Oh my god,” Jason whispers. “No. No way. You’re lying. You’re messing with me.”

Ronnie bursts into laughter and wraps Jason in a bone-crushing hug. “I’m not lying, Jace. They want us.”

“Even after…?”

“Especially after.” Jason tries to squirm free, but Ronnie refuses to release him. “No, I’ve got you, you’re mine forever. They said you—we—Firestorm—shouldn’t have to be alone right now. And they’re really interested in our powers.”

“This isn’t exactly a great first impression, though, is it?”

“Killer Frost was their first impression,” Ronnie reminds him. “Also, you’re the only one who thinks we messed up yesterday. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, Firestorm saved the mayor and everyone in his mansion, and protected whatever the hell was in that vault.”

“I guess. How did they contact you?”

“I got a text.” Ronnie grins at him. “I guess when I told Superman my name, it wasn’t hard to figure out the rest.”

“Superman texted you?”

“Yep.”

“Superman has a phone?”

“I guess so. I mean, maybe it’s some kind of alien emulator thing, but it came through on a regular number.” Ronnie shrugs. “Can I tell him we’ll be there Sunday?”

Metropolis is a few hours drive from Walton Mills, but Firestorm can reach incredible speeds when Ronnie’s in control. They arrive at the Hall of Justice in under twenty minutes.

A lot of the building is open to the public, which both halves of Firestorm find a little funny, but apparently it’s for PR reasons. The upper floors, though, are under extremely tight security, and for good reason. That’s where they keep the Watchtower teleport pads, explains Superman—or Kal, as he tells them to call him.

“The teleporters will only function if they recognize you,” says Superman as they ascend the stairs. “Our security system has already been programmed for you as you are now, but we’d like to get your individual Firestorm forms tagged as well. Once we get up to the Watchtower, we’ll take care of that.”

Oh wow, says Jason. They’re serious about this.

“You’ll also probably start getting mail soon. Our clerks scan them for harmful substances, and you can request for them to be read in advance and discarded if they’re not high priority. Oh, and if you get a package from Gotham, don’t open it. It’s probably a glitter bomb. The clerks are good at identifying them, but sometimes one will slip past.”

“Um, okay,” says Ronnie.

“With your abilities, you’ll probably be able to make it to the Watchtower without the use of the teleporters,” continues Superman. “But I still want you to feel welcome at the Hall, especially since it’s closer to home. Consider every single person in this building an ally, from the security chief down to the night janitor, and never be afraid to ask for help. We’re all stronger together.”

The view from the Watchtower is dazzling. Firestorm stares down at the earth in awed silence for a full ten minutes, and Superman waits patiently for him to turn away from the glass.

“Are you ready?” he asks. “There’s a lot more to see.”

Firestorm nods, afraid that if he tries to speak, he’ll throw up.

The Watchtower is enormous, and the tour takes hours, especially because Superman stops to introduce them to every single person they encounter. Firestorm already knows most of their names, of course, but it’s still utterly dizzying to meet them in person.

“Through there is the kitchen,” says Superman. “If you see something marked in blue, that means it’s safe for human consumption. And that way is the gym, you can spar if you like, but don’t do anything that could potentially puncture the hull. Patch jobs aren’t cheap.”

Firestorm nods silently, overwhelmed.

“And here’s one of the lounges… who do we have in here?”

It looks like a room that could be found in any suburban home on earth, save for the starry galaxy outside the window. Two children sit on a sofa in front of a television, holding game controllers. One looks like an ordinary kids, in jeans and a t-shirt, and one is Robin. Or at least, a Robin.

“Billy, Damian, can you pause that?” asks Superman. “We have a new member of the team.”

Billy drops his controller and waves enthusiastically. “Hey! Firestorm, right?”

“Yeah,” says Ronnie.

I have no idea who that is, comments Jason. Maybe someone’s kid?

“You’ll like it here,” says Billy. “We got a PS5.” Then he elbows Robin. “Go on, Damian. Say something normal.”

“Humans blink their eyes about twenty times per minute,” says Robin. “I'm severely below average so I try to manually compensate for it but sometimes I forget. I apologize in advance.”

Billy claps his hands enthusiastically. “That was a great try!”

“Let’s move on,” says Superman, pushing Firestorm along.

As word spreads throughout the Watchtower, more heroes come out to meet them. For once, Firestorm is speechless, unable to do anything more than smile awkwardly as he’s greeted by the likes of Wonder Woman and the Flash and Green Lantern. He expects them to be at least a little suspicious of him, but they’re so warm and welcoming, and speak to Firestorm like they’ve known him all their lives.

“They know what it’s like, you know,” says Superman in a low voice as they continue on towards their final destination, the security center. “Everyone in here knows what you’re going through. You’re not alone anymore.”

Access to the security center requires both a palm and optical scan. Batman is waiting for them, looking no more impressed than he did last time he saw Firestorm.

“We’re going to get a better quality headshot of Firestorm for the scanners,” says Superman. “After that, I’m going to ask you to decombine for the individual shots.”

Ronnie and Jason have never attempted to decombine into their individual Firestorm forms rather than their civilian selves, and they worry they won’t be able to pull it off. Somehow, though, they do. In their separate Firestorm forms, it’s easier to see their individual faces, and Ronnie is taller. Their costumes are very similar, but Ronnie’s is bright red and Jason’s is yellow.

“Shit,” rumbles Batman. “There really are two of you.”

Superman sighs. “Do you have to curse?”

“Do you want civilian pictures, too?” asks Jason, a bit anxiously.

“No,” Superman reassures them. “For security purposes, we don’t keep those on file.”

“If your faces are clear enough, the scanners might still recognize you, though,” says Batman. “They’re extremely good.”

Ronnie takes an agonizingly long time deciding which picture he wants, scrolling back and forth between shots that look identical to Jason’s eye. While he’s doing that, Batman turns to Superman.

“Did you warn them about the glitter bombs?”

“Yes.”

“Did you warn them about the other letter they might get?”

Superman gives Batman a hard look.

“What other letter?” asks Jason.

“We’re not doing this now—” begins Superman.

“LexCorp job offer.”

“Bruce!” snaps Superman.

“It’s coming. You’re an idiot if you think it’s not. The minute he realizes what they’re capable of…”

“Enough.” Superman puts his hands on his hips and squares his shoulders. “We are not discussing this today.”

Batman shrugs and turns back to the monitor. “Fine. Don’t put it off too long though. It’s only a matter of time.”

Jason spends the majority of Ronnie’s birthday party tucked under his arm. He considers slipping away when someone takes a photograph of Ronnie blowing out the candles on his cake, but decides against it. He’s not going to hide anymore. Not even from Cliff.

Jackson—Jax, as his teammates call him—apparently has the run of his parents’ house while they’re off on a cruise, and Jason is a little worried that things will get out of hand. When Ronnie is distracted with a play-by-play recounting of his winning touchdown last Saturday, Jason slips away and sits on the steps to catch his breath. Being around so many people is a little bit stressful.

Then a beautiful girl with long hair and even longer legs approaches him. Jason’s heart sinks as she looks down at him.

“Hey!” yells Doreen, but he can tell from her wide smile that she’s not angry, she’s just trying to be heard over the music blaring from the back patio. “Hey, you’re Jason, right?”

“Yeah!” Jason shouts back as non-aggressively as possible.

Doreen sways a little on her feet and gives him a thumbs up. “We’re cool!” she bellows at him. “I’m drunk and we’re cool!”

Jason had no idea there was alcohol at this party. Whoever’s got it must be keeping it under wraps. “I’m glad!”

“Dance with me!” she commands, grabbing him by the hands and pulling him to his feet. They stumble out the back door together, where strings of hanging lights illuminate the gathering dusk.

“I don’t know how to dance!” he protests, but either Doreen can’t hear him or she doesn’t care.

Doreen definitely knows how to dance, though. She’s forceful, steering him around like she’s walking a badly behaved dog, but Jason is grateful for the guidance. Anything to keep him from embarrassing himself. Once he manages to find the rhythm, it is sort of fun.

“Ronnie’s great, isn’t he?” she shouts.

“Yeah.”

“His dad fucking sucks though!”

Jason nods.

“I know it, you know it, everyone knows it! Except Ronnie!” Doreen twirls in the same way Firestorm does, except Firestorm does it in midair. She loses her footing, but Jason manages to catch her. Doreen bursts out laughing.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Come on, let’s sit down.”

“I’m f—” Doreen raises her hand to her mouth and for a minute, Jason is afraid she’s about to vomit on his shirt. Instead, she gulps and swallows. “—ine. Okay yeah let’s go sit down.” She laughs again.

Jason gets her to a plastic lawn chair and reclines it a little so she can relax. He sits down on the grass next to her, trying to remember what he’s learned about taking care of drunk people.

“He’s always such a bitch,” gripes Doreen, who apparently isn’t done being mad about Ed Raymond. “He’s got, like, the sweetest kid in the whole state and he doesn’t even care! He loses his shit if Ronnie so much as steps out of line, and meanwhile he’s in Mr. Shine’s pocket and everyone knows you don’t get there by being an upstanding citizen!”

Jason frowns. It’s not a secret that Mr. Shine spent ten years in prison for racketeering, and came to Walton Mills to start over. In the five years since his arrival, he’s poured nearly a million dollars into the hospital, the local schools, the parks and churches and everything else. His generosity won the wary residents over very quickly, and now most people won’t hear a word against him.

There’s whispers, though. There’s whispers he never left his old ways behind at all, and that people who cross him disappear.

“What’s Ronnie’s dad doing for Mr. Shine?” asks Jason.

“Haven’t you seen all those kiss-ass articles he writes?” asks Doreen. “Mr. Shine drops a nickel in the collection plate and it’s on the front page, but when his lousy son crashes a Porsche into a school bus, it’s crickets!”

“I don’t really read the local news,” admits Jason.

“Me neither! I only started noticing ‘cuz I was clipping Ronnie’s articles. His dad’s never once written about him, you know.”

“I think that might be a conflict of interest.” Jason doesn’t really want to defend Ronnie’s dad, but he doesn’t want to be completely unfair either. “Hey, Doreen… do you think…?”

But Doreen is asleep in the lawn chair, one arm over her head and the other sprawled out across the grass. Jason sits with her, pensive, until her girlfriends come and find her, at which point she wakes up again and lets them help her, laughing, into a car.

As they pull away, Doreen blows him a kiss. Ronnie comes up behind him a minute later.

“You doing okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. Just getting tired.” Jason forces a smile. There’s an idea forming in his mind, and he doesn’t like it. “I think I might head out.”

“It’s a long walk, let me fly you home.”

“Nah, I’m okay. I don’t mind the walk.” He leans in and brushes a shy kiss to Ronnie’s cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” says Ronnie. “If you’re sure.”

Jason gives him a reassuring smile and vanishes into the evening.

Chapter Text

Firestorm’s first official victory with the Justice League comes when he returns to the Hall of Justice with a bell jar containing miniaturized versions of the Nuclear Family, the robots he’d been sent to destroy.

They are still fully functional, just too tiny to hurt anyone—not that they want to anymore. Firestorm made them a home, a safe place to exist, and that had been all they really wanted to begin with. Superman promises he will take it to the Fortress of Solitude, where it will rest safely beside Kandor.

The mood is somewhat dampened half an hour later when Firestorm and Booster Gold throw a football through a plate glass window, but he’s still counting it as a success.

“Okay, you’ve got this,” encourages Ronnie. “Just make yourself lighter than air.”

They’re both Firestorm today, but separately. Ronnie’s getting better at transmutation, so Jason’s decided to take another shot at flight. If nothing else, it will make up for the fact that there’s no way he’ll be able to afford a car until after he graduates college.

Jason feels so unbalanced when he’s Firestorm alone, like he’s trying to do everything with his non-dominant hand. At least they’re still telepathically linked, able to speak directly into one another’s minds. Connected through the Firestorm Matrix, Jason supposes.

“Don’t worry,” says Ronnie. “I’ll catch you if you fall. So there’s nothing to be scared of.”

Jason’s feet slowly drift up off the ground, and he forces himself to remain calm. The gentle wind buffets him, and he tries not to think of what will happen if it picks up.

“Just go with it,” encourages Ronnie. “Find a current that works for you and let it push you around. Then when you’re feeling less afraid, you can try to work against it.”

Jason practices for an hour, gradually allowing himself to drift higher. Ronnie twists through the air and loops back around to Jason, floating on his back. “Doing okay?” he asks.

“I think so…”

“Great!” Ronnie grins at him. “See, I told you. You got this.”

Not only is Ronnie a natural when it comes to flight, but he’s thrown himself wholeheartedly into memorizing the stars. In case they ever get lost, he says. Apparently this is something Superman suggested.

So at night, walking home after games, Ronnie points out constellations overhead, reciting their names and stories. And sometimes, when Jason raises his chin to follow along, Ronnie surprises him with a kiss.

The Watchtower is usually fairly peaceful, though Ronnie and Jason have already become accustomed to sudden alarms and people scrambling to respond to a call. When a fight breaks out in the lounge between Ronnie and Booster, though, Billy sprints off and returns moments later with both Batman and Superman in tow.

“What is going on here?” asks Superman, prying the two apart with ease.

“Nothing!” cries Booster unconvincingly. “We’re just sparring. Right? Firestorm—Ronnie—bro—”

Ronnie jabs an accusatory finger at Booster Gold. “He said he’d give me twenty bucks if I ate the thing he found behind the fridge and now he’s not paying up!”

“Tattletale!” shouts Booster.

Batman does an about-face and walks out of the room. Superman, however, stays.

“Booster, is this true?” he asks.

“Look, I told you, I’m all in on crypto right now,” Booster says to Ronnie. “You’ll have to wait until—”

“Fine! What flavor of jello do you want your suit to be in the meantime?” asks Ronnie, curling his fingers a little in preparation.

“No way, I’m calling your bluff, you don't have the brains to transmute this!” Even so, he edges backwards a little. “This is 25th century tech!”

“Jason could do it,” says Ronnie. “Jason can do anything.”

Booster glances over at Jason, who is curled up in an armchair, reading a book. “Your nerd boyfriend isn’t going to incapacitate a fellow Leaguer for pocket change.”

“Well, I wasn’t,” Jason says, setting his book aside, “but I think I’m starting to change my mind.”

“Yeah!” Ronnie pumps a fist in the air triumphantly. Booster dives behind the sofa, like he thinks maybe it will protect him.

“That’s enough,” says Superman. “Firestorm—both halves of Firestorm, come with me. We need to talk.”

Superman doesn’t yell, or scold, or say much of anything, really. He leads them up to the observation deck and remains quiet until Jason breaks the silence.

“Are we in trouble?” he asks.

“No,” says Superman. “In fact, I’ve been meaning to have this conversation with you for a while now.”

Jason and Ronnie exchange anxious looks.

“The two of you have incredible potential, but right now I’m less concerned with your abilities and more concerned with who you’ll grow up to be. The world is full of people who will make you angry, or frustrated. As you grow, it’s going to be more and more important that you learn to be the bigger person in situations like this.”

“Why doesn’t Booster have to be the bigger person?” objects Ronnie. “He’s older!”

Superman gives him a meaningful look. “Because Firestorm is significantly more powerful than Booster Gold.”

Ronnie swallows hard.

“I know it stings. But learning restraint and forgiveness is our first defense against turning into something ugly. Against doing things that can never be undone.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Yeah, Ronnie would never ever hurt anyone,” interjects Jason. “And neither of us want a repeat of…of what happened…”

“I don’t believe for a moment that either of you would deliberately cause harm to an innocent,” says Superman. “There are metahumans I have my concerns about, but Firestorm is not one of them. I’m talking about maturity, not morality.”

“I’m irrepressible!” proclaims Ronnie, quoting something Wonder Woman had said a few days ago. Jason tries and fails to suppress a laugh.

“Yes, I’ve noticed.” A smile pulls at Superman’s lips as well. “Just try to remember what I said. An instant of anger can destroy so much, and an instant of remorse is seldom enough to put it back together again.”

“Dad?” asks Ronnie cautiously.

Mr. Raymond makes a noise around his mouthful of spaghetti to indicate he’s listening. It’s a rare night that he’s home early from work, and Ronnie doesn’t plan on wasting it. Jason has laid out his suspicions, and while Ronnie doesn’t think there’s any truth to them, he’s still going to test the waters.

“So, I, uh…how’s work?”

“Fine.”

“I… I saw you did an article on the Shines fixing up the rec center. That looks… good.” God, he sounds so lame. “Some of the guys on the team were afraid they’d, you know, jack up the membership fee.”

“Mm.”

“Um. Mr. Shine comes to our games sometimes. Coach Lacey says he’s given a lot of money to the team in the past. I was wondering, uh, if you know anything about him? I mean…”

Ed Raymond’s eyes narrow. “What?”

“There’s weird stories,” says Ronnie. “Like, kids say the whole family is, I dunno, in the mob or something—”

“That’s enough, Ronnie,” snaps Ed.

“—and I know you’ve interviewed him before so—”

“That’s enough, Ronald!” Ed slams his glass down. “Where the hell is this coming from? Who’s feeding you this crap?”

“Nobody, Dad! It’s just kids at school telling stories.”

“Well, I don’t want to hear you repeating them ever again, got it? Mr. Shine is a powerful man, and you’re not going to go around insulting him.”

“I wouldn’t, Dad! Honest!”

“Next time you see him, you keep your mouth shut and your head down, got it?”

“Okay,” says Ronnie weakly. “Okay, sorry.”

They finish dinner in awkward silence and do not say another word to each other for the rest of the night.

“Have you thought about prom?” asks Ronnie.

Jason barely glances up from the ever-growing pile of college acceptance letters slowly taking over his mother’s kitchen table. “Hm?”

“Prom.”

“What about it?”

“Do you wanna go?”

Jason shrugs and circles a scholarship offer in bright red ink. He’s only been to one school dance in his entire high school career, Homecoming, all the way back in freshman year, mostly out of a sense of intellectual curiosity. None of it had really been to his liking.

“I mean…” Ronnie clears his throat awkwardly. “What I mean is…”

In retrospect, Jason has absolutely no idea why he thought Cliff might be happy for him.

“What the fuck, Jason?” he snarls. Jason has never seen him friend so enraged before. “Jason, what the fuck?!”

“He’s not that bad!” Jason objects weakly, dodging a thrown TI-84. It hits a beaker, shattering it into a thousand pieces. Mr. Conway is gonna kill them. “Cliff, please, you’re acting crazy!”

“I trusted you!” howls Cliff. “I was alone with you! How many times did you check me out, huh?”

Fear and confusion crystallize into icy hatred, and in that moment Jason realizes that Tonya has been right all along. He’s vaguely aware of Mr. Conway rushing in and shouting something, but his words sound like they’re coming from very far away.

“Zero, Cliff,” he says, “because you’re ugly inside and out.”

Chapter Text

A couple of blocks away from the Hall of Justice is the best taco truck in Metropolis. Firestorm swings by pretty regularly on the weekends, and the guy who works it, Carlos, has started asking him, “The usual?” which makes him feel pretty special.

Firestorm is hunkered down on a bench, a mess of burrito meat and silver foil spilling off his lap and onto the sidewalk, when a woman in a business suit approaches him.

“Firestorm?” she says. He looks up mid-bite.

“Um, yeah?” asks Ronnie awkwardly. He hopes she doesn’t want a photo. Nobody looks good eating a burrito. “I mean, I mean, uh, how can I help you, citizen?”

“I was hoping for a chance to speak with you. My employer is hoping you might be open to a new job opportunity.”

“Uhh, well, I don’t really have time for regular work,” says Ronnie, “but if someone needs saving, I can totally do that!”

She gives him a smile that feels a little forced. “What we have in mind is a little more significant than one-off heroics. Your abilities could revolutionize the world. My employer is willing to provide a substantial salary in return for regular shipments of rare elements synthesized by yourself.”

Woah. Okay. That sounded… serious.

Ask her what kind of elements, instructs Jason.

“Uh,” says Ronnie. “Uh, what kind of elements are we talking about here?”

“That will vary based on company objectives. Though, if you’d like an example, I can tell you right now that there is a worldwide helium shortage. It’s a finite, non-renewable resource and critical for the operation of certain medical devices. If you accept our offer, that might be one of the requests you receive.”

“Oh,” says Ronnie, standing up because he figures he ought to try to do something to show he’s taking things seriously. “Well, I guess that’s… that sounds like something important, yeah.”

“Good.” The woman withdraws a sealed envelope from her coat pocket and holds it out to him. Firestorm quickly wipes his hands on a crumpled bundle of napkins. “Here are further details, including a contract. There is a number you can call at the top of the first page with questions. If the terms are not to your liking, we are open to negotiations.”

Firestorm reaches out to accept the envelope, but it is only in his hand for a moment before it’s snatched away. “What the—” he begins, turning so quickly that he nearly bumps right into Superman.

“This is a bit pathetic, don’t you think?” Superman asks the woman.

One side of her mouth curls into a sardonic smile. “And I was having such a nice day, too.”

“You can continue having one if you leave right now,” says Superman.

“Oh, am I not allowed to stand on a public sidewalk?” Her eyes glitter in an open challenge and her posture shifts as she squares her shoulders. Either she’s fearless or insane.

“Very well. Firestorm, we’re leaving. Come along.” Superman puts a heavy hand on Firestorm’s shoulder and begins to lead him back to the Hall.

“Why not let him decide for himself?” the woman calls after them.

Superman does not acknowledge this, but Firestorm gives her one last look over his shoulder before they turn the corner.

Batman is waiting for them when they step off the teleporter pad. When he sees the unmarked envelope in Superman’s hand, he crosses his arms. “Well?”

Superman sighs deeply. “We met Mercy.”

“Starting out serious, then.”

Firestorm follows the two older heroes down the halls. Ronnie can’t shake the feeling that he’s done something wrong, even though he knows talking to weird women isn’t against the law. Jason is also being uncharacteristically withdrawn, not commenting on the situation or what he thinks might happen next.

They are brought into an empty conference room. Batman seals the door behind them, while Superman slumps into the nearest chair.

“I thought we’d have more time,” he says.

“Really? I’m surprised it’s taken this long.”

“Maybe I’ll talk to him,” mumbles Superman. “Maybe I can make him see sense…”

Batman gives a short bark of laughter. “That’s cute, Kal. Never change.”

“Um,” says Firestorm. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but… what’s going on? Who was that lady?”

Batman and Superman look at each other.

“This one’s yours,” says Batman.

Superman gestures to the empty chairs beside him. “Sit down. Separately.”

Firestorm unfuses, and Ronnie and Jason sit.

“What do you know about LexCorp?” Superman asks.

“Um. The same stuff as everyone else,” says Ronnie, looking to Jason for help. “They’re bad news, right?”

Jason nods. “But nobody can really prove it.”

“Why would they want to hire us?” asks Ronnie. “Unless it’s a trap? Right? It’s a trap?”

“It’s not a trap,” says Superman. “I have no doubt that Lex Luthor would treat Firestorm incredibly well, so long as you complied with his requests. But he’s not going to be asking you to help with the helium shortage. He won’t ask you for anything that will benefit mankind in any way.”

“We wouldn’t ever agree to make something dangerous,” says Jason. “Plutonium, or uranium, or whatever—we wouldn’t do it. No matter how good the money was.”

“Yeah!” agrees Ronnie.

“You might agree to his terms with good intentions, but once he has you, you will find it very difficult to leave. He will threaten your family, your friends…” Superman looks back and forth between them. “If he knew there were two of you… if he understood how deeply you care for one another… he would exploit that as well.”

“Well then we won’t do it,” says Ronnie. “Simple. No brainer. Why did you think we would?”

Superman looks at Ronnie for a very long moment.

“Show them,” says Batman.

Reluctantly, Superman breaks open the envelope. He shuffles through the pages and separates one from the rest, passing it over to Ronnie and Jason. They lean in together to read through it. Contract. Terms. Title. Health insurance. Dental insurance. Life insurance.

Annual salary…

“Ho-ly shit!” Ronnie falls out of his chair and hits the floor. Instead of getting up, he remains where he’s fallen. “Holy shit. Jace. Jace. Jace. Holy shit.”

“Can’t breathe,” mumbles Jason. The page slips from his hand, and he doubles over. “Chest hurts. Can’t breathe.”

“I hallucinated that number, right?” Ronnie snatches up the fallen sheet and reads it again. “Oh god. I didn’t. Holy shit.”

Jason lifts his head and looks at Superman, one hand pressed firmly over his heart. “Is this a prank? A prank on the new guys?”

“You know it isn’t, Jason.”

Jason bends over again and vomits on the floor, just barely missing Ronnie’s shoes.

“They’re handling this well,” comments Batman.

Jason is taken to medical to treat his panic attack. In the meantime, news of Firestorm’s “job offer” spreads through the Watchtower. By the time Jason is calm and they’ve been released with orders to take it easy, most of the younger heroes have gathered to interrogate them.

“You’re not thinking about taking the offer, are you?” asks Jaime about two seconds after Ronnie and Jason sit down on the couch.

“Of course not,” says Ronnie. “But it was just… holy shit.”

“How much was it?”

“Millions,” Jason says hoarsely.

“Woah.” Jaime looks impressed. “Even split in half, that’s… woah.”

“I think we’re still processing it,” says Ronnie. Jason nods. “But no. We’d never go evil. Especially not for money.”

“You guys could just, like, make your own money, couldn’t you?” proposes Kid Flash. He’s not in the League, he’s a Titan, but apparently there’s some overlap between the two teams. Ronnie and Jason don’t know his civilian name yet, and they feel weird asking outright. “Bars of gold or whatever?”

“Yeah,” says Ronnie. “Or diamonds, or anything. I mean I guess technically we could transmute money straight up, but—”

“We can’t do that. There’s laws against that,” interrupts Jason. “Gold and whatever, fine. Actual currency, not fine.”

“Think carefully before introducing large quantities of anything into the market,” says Damian, who has been sitting apart from the others, pretending not to be interested in the conversation. “Flooding an industry could have grave economic consequences.”

“We will definitely… remember that,” says Ronnie. After all these months, he's still not accustomed to the tiny child who speaks like an adult.

“It feels wrong, though,” murmurs Jason. “I can’t explain it, but using our powers to get rich… I don’t know. Something about it feels weird.”

“Can’t relate,” says Jaime, prompting a few laughs.

“It would be one thing if we were starving, or homeless, or had huge debts. Or a family to feed. But right now, if we just transmuted a big pile of gold, I’d feel…” Jason shrugs, unable to find the word he’s looking for.

“I’m sort of surprised Superman let us see the number,” said Ronnie. “They had to be at least a little worried we’d take the offer, right?”

“They’re not worried,” says Damian matter-of-factly.

“Yeah!” agrees Billy. “They know you’re good.”

Damian gives the older boy a scathing look. The expression is almost humorous on his baby face. “That’s not what I meant. Batman has plans for everyone betraying the League. He’d take care of them in ten minutes if they tried anything.”

“Oh, really?” Ronnie raises his eyebrows.

“Yes.”

“What’s his plan, then?”

“I don’t know. He would probably…” Damian gives Ronnie and Jason a once-over. “...probably figure out a way to toss you into the Phantom Zone.”

“Well, that’s dark,” says Jaime.

“Makes sense, though. There’s not a prison that can hold Firestorm, right?” asks Kid Flash. “He’d just turn the bars into crackers or something. And a force field won’t work if he can just melt the control panel. So you’ve gotta go ultra high tech with it.”

“Can we talk about something else?” asks Ronnie. Even though he knows he’ll never, ever get on Batman’s bad side, the conversation makes him feel a little sick. Luckily, everyone is happy to move on to lighter subjects, and soon the job offer is forgotten.

Jason’s eighteenth birthday passes with significantly less fanfare than Ronnie’s. He, Ronnie, and Tonya gather at his house, and his mother brings out a birthday cake. It’s nothing like the loud house party that the football team put together, but Jason prefers this. Being near the people he cares for most—the people who care for him most—is soothing and makes him feel safe.

Everything is on the verge of changing. He can feel it in the air like an electric crackle. Jason thinks he’s spent most of his life looking forward to college, but now…

I wish I had more time, he thinks as he blows out his candles.

The acceptance letter from MIT comes two weeks later. Ronnie turns down an offer from Ohio State and signs on with Yale instead. His father calls him a fucking moron, but Ronnie holds firm in his decision.

It’s still further away from each other than they’d hoped for, but close enough for Firestorm.

Ronnie dances with Doreen at prom. There’s no avoiding it—he’s prom king, she’s prom queen, and they’re going to dance to Ed Sheeran’s Photograph and smile for the yearbook cameras because he’s the Yale-bound quarterback and she’s the head cheerleader.

During the dance, Doreen leans in close.

“I’m happy for you,” she says. “I’m happy you found what you need.”

Despite her words, Ronnie can’t help but feel guilty. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know you didn’t.” Doreen smiles ruefully. “Maybe in another life, right?”

Ronnie spots Jason in the crowd. Pinned to the lapel of his jacket is an orange rose, identical to the one on Ronnie’s coat.

“He’s good to you?” asks Doreen.

Ronnie grins widely. “The best.”

“Look at you.” She reaches up and pinches the corner of his mouth between her knuckles, as if capturing his happiness. “You’re in love.”

The song comes to an end. Just before they pull apart, Doreen squeezes his shoulder. “I don’t regret anything, you know. And I’ll always be your friend.”

After prom, Ronnie flies them to a quiet, secluded lake a few miles outside town. The water is still and clear as a plate of glass, reflecting back the endless galaxy.

Then he takes Jason by the hand and leads him to a spot near the banks. The grass is long, and soft, and releases a sweet scent when they lay across it.

For a time, they speak of ordinary things, casual things. Finals. Graduation. The League. The future. The games Ronnie will win, the discoveries Jason will make. Nobody is around, especially not at this hour, but they keep their voices low nevertheless, preserving the peace.

Then Ronnie pulls Jason close and kisses him. One hand drifts over Jason’s waist, soft but deliberate.

“Can I?” whispers Ronnie.

“Yes,” Jason whispers back.

Afterward, staring up at the sky and listening to the sound of Ronnie’s heartbeat and his own breathing and the distant, eternal hum of the stars, he thinks, I’m in love.

Chapter Text

The day after prom, Jason wakes up in Ronnie’s bed, wrapped tightly in his arms. He has no idea what time it was when they snuck in last night, and he’s just grateful Ed hadn’t been home to catch them.

Ronnie is already awake when Jason opens his eyes. “Good morning,” he says with a smile. Jason wants to ask how long he was like that, just waiting and watching, but instead he reaches out to caress Ronnie’s cheek and play with the slightly curled ends of his hair.

Ronnie draws him closer and kisses him deeply.

“I love you,” he whispers as they pull apart.

“Love you,” echoes Jason.

They stay like that in peaceful silence for a while. Ronnie continues watch him closely until Jason asks, “What is it?”

“Nothing,” says Ronnie with a crooked smile. “I just like your eyelashes.”

Jason glances away, embarrassed. “Was that… your first time with…”

“With a guy, yeah,” says Ronnie. “There have been girls.”

How many girls? Jason wants to ask, but there’s no way to utter that sentence without sounding jealous and insecure.

“Want to go again?” asks Ronnie.

Jason glances toward the door. “Is your dad home?”

“Probably not.” Ronnie stretches and gets up. Jason settles into the warm spot he’s left behind. “I’ll check.”

Jason looks at his phone. No texts from his mom, but there are a couple of pictures from Tonya. She got a really good one of Ronnie dancing with Jason. He scrolls through them, smiling.

“Car’s gone,” Ronnie reports a few minutes later. “Dunno where he went, but he’s not here.”

“Do you think he came back at all?”

Ronnie shrugs. Jason bites the inside of his cheek. He wants to have the mystery of whatever is happening in Walton Mills solved before they leave for college, but he’s afraid of what Ronnie’s father might be implicated in. Not for his sake, but for Ronnie’s.

“Never mind,” says Jason. He reaches his arms out for Ronnie. “You were saying…?”

Ronnie’s smile returns, lighting up the whole room. “That’s right. I was, wasn’t I?”

Ronnie makes them breakfast. He’s surprisingly good at it, too. They’re sitting at the kitchen table together with a too-large plate of bacon and eggs between them when Ronnie’s father walks in through the garage, looking like he hasn’t slept all night.

Ed Raymond looks at Ronnie, then at Jason, dressed in last night’s very rumpled suit pants and one of Ronnie’s t-shirts.

“Hi Dad,” says Ronnie. “Want any bacon? I made way too much.”

Jason is impressed by how casually Ronnie is acting, but then he realizes it’s not an act at all. He really isn’t worried.

How many girls has Ed Raymond seen in this exact situation, that Ronnie is completely indifferent to his presence?

“No,” says Ed. “Uh. No.”

He’s still staring at Jason. Jason studies his plate like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

“Son...” says Ed slowly. He sounds more confused than angry.

“Oh. This is Jason. You remember Jason, right?”

“What happened to Doreen?”

“Maybe I should go,” says Jason, sliding his chair away from the table. Wooden legs screech across the linoleum.

“No,” says Ronnie. “You shouldn’t. Dad, Doreen and I broke up. A year ago.”

Ed is staring at Ronnie like he's the most complex mathematical equation he's ever seen in his life. “But... you like girls.”

“I like everyone,” says Ronnie. “Which you might know if you bothered to talk to me for five minutes.”

“But... you play football.”

Ronnie rolls his eyes. “Okay, if you’re going to wreck my morning—”

“Son…”

Jason tenses up and prepares to transform, the word Firestorm ready on his lips. He’s already decided what to transmute to subdue Ed. He doesn’t even care if he'd be compromising his identity. He just knows he can't let this man hurt Ronnie again.

“...I’m sorry,” finishes Ed.

From the expression on Ronnie’s face, he hadn’t been expecting those words either.

“Dad,” begins Ronnie, standing up and moving forward, but Ed pulls back, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “You haven’t deserved any of this. Your mother would…”

But what Elaine Raymond would have done remains forever a mystery, because Ed turns abruptly on his heel and flees the house without another word.

Graduation comes with a valedictorian speech from Jason and another huge party courtesy of the football team. Jason tries to enjoy it, but he can’t stop thinking about the way Cliff glared at him all through the ceremony, like he was trying to light Jason on fire through the power of sheer rage.

A week later, Firestorm rescues a group of miners from a cave-in upstate, transforming the collapsed stones and beams into harmless soap bubbles that drift up into the sky. The local news captures all of it, including the moment Firestorm is engulfed in hugs by several grateful families and collapses under the weight of them all.

Jason spends a great deal of his time trying to investigate the weapons cache they found, though he’ll admit he spends an equal amount of time pinned between Ronnie and a mattress. He tells Tonya about his suspicions, even though he doesn’t tell her about Firestorm. She agrees that something is definitely up with the Shine family and has been since they moved to town, but can’t figure out how or why Ronnie’s dad would be involved.

Meanwhile, Ronnie’s relationship with his father has stagnated once again. Despite the moment that passed between them the morning after prom, Ed Raymond remains as withdrawn and uncommunicative as ever. Jason isn’t exactly happy to hear this, but in a way he’s relieved. He dislikes the man, and probably always will. Ed never being around means Jason doesn’t have to feign politeness when what he really wants to do is melt him into the floor.

In the apartment, the only home Jason can remember, Jason’s mother listens to his worries without judgment.

“It’s stupid, isn’t it?” asks Jason. “I’ve spent my entire life waiting to graduate and get out of Walton Mills, but now all I can think of is how unfair it is that we’ve had so little time together.”

“Don’t think of that,” urges Sylvie. “Think of how lucky you are to have found each other at all.”

“What if he meets someone else at Yale?” Yale means wealthy girls who are as intelligent as they are beautiful. He’s not too worried about other guys, since there’s no other guy in the world that can become Firestorm, but he’ll never be half as alluring as a girl.

“I think we both know that isn’t going to happen,” says Sylvie. She places a hand over his. “In any other case, I’d say you might grow apart, and that’s just part of becoming an adult… but there’s something special between the two of you, isn’t there?”

She’s more correct than she could ever know, but Jason can’t figure out what she’s talking about in this case. It can’t just be the hooking up, right? Plenty of couples their age do that.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

Sylvie laces her fingers together and gives Jason a searching look. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Jason’s mouth goes dry. All of the League's lectures about safety and anonymity are ringing in his head. “I don’t know what you…”

Sylvie gets up from the table and returns with a newspaper. She drops it on the table in front of Jason. It’s the headline from a few days ago, showing a grinning Firestorm surrounded by the rescued miners.

“You know?” Jason whispers.

Sylvie gives him a watery smile. “Baby, how could I not know?”

“But…” Jason shakes his head. Everything feels so surreal. “How long…?”

“Since the day Ronnie visited for the first time, after that lunatic attacked the mayor. He’s both of you, isn’t he? Combined, somehow. I see you in his face, but I see Ronnie too.” Sylvie clasps his cheeks in her hands. “I’m so proud of you, baby. I just wish you’d told me yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” says Jason, and he means it. “I just… it happened so quickly.”

He tells her the whole story, starting with Dr. Stein entrusting the particle to him and his subsequent disappearance. Sylvie listens quietly, asking no questions and not complaining when Jason rambles or repeats himself.

“It’s not that I didn’t trust you,” concludes Jason. “I just didn’t know how to explain. And I knew you’d worry if you knew I was off trying to be a hero.”

“I do wish you’d waited until you were a little older to start that sort of work,” admits Sylvie. “Though maybe that’s selfish of me. The world obviously needs…” She looks down at the newspaper again. “I’m proud of you. You could have caused so much harm, but you chose to help people.”

“Of course I did, Mom,” says Jason, mildly alarmed. “I’d never—you know I wouldn’t—”

Sylvie hugs him as tightly as she can.

“Did you tell anyone?” asks Jason. “Anyone at all?”

“No. Not a soul. Not even Ronnie’s father. Though I hope he’s figured it out himself by now.”

“He hasn’t,” Jason proclaims flatly. The minute Ed Raymond figures it out, he’ll lose his mind and they’ll probably hear the screaming from miles away. But then, figuring it out would require him to remember his son’s existence for a couple minutes, so maybe they’re safe. “He didn’t even know Ronnie and Doreen had broken up until a month ago.”

“I’m sorry,” says Sylvie. “Ronnie seems so sweet. Tell him he’s always welcome here, even if you’re not home, if he ever needs a safe place to stay.”

Chapter Text

Ronnie is woken in the middle of the night by the sound of angry voices downstairs. He gets out of bed and creeps down the hall, being careful to remain in the shadows. He can hear two men, and his father, but with everyone talking at the same time, he can’t make out any individual words.

“Fine!” says Ronnie’s father at last. “Fine, yes, as long as we’re quick about it."

They leave the house, and Ronnie rushes to the window in time to see a car pull away from the driveway.

“Firestorm,” he whispers.

Being Firestorm without Jason is lonely, but there’s no time to swing by and grab him. He flies high above the road, following the car from a safe enough distance that anyone who sees him will mistake him for the light on an aircraft.

He feels a gentle push at his mind. Jason is aware that Ronnie has transformed, but since he’s not transformed himself, they can’t communicate beyond vague sensations. Ronnie tries to push back feelings of reassurance, but he’s not sure how much gets through. He hopes Jason assumes he just went for a late night flight.

The car pulls into the driveway of the Shine mansion. Ronnie knows he shouldn’t be surprised Jason was right, of course Jason was right, Jason’s always right. He waits for them to go inside before he lands on the lawn, wishing there was some way to put out his flaming hair.

After a couple minutes of experimentation, he’s able to make himself intangible and slip through the wall, emerging from the other side into a kitchen. Fancy, state of the art metal appliances reflect back his firelight from every angle.

From down the hallway, he can hear voices. He crouches behind a counter, praying nobody has a reason to come this way.

“It’s three in the morning!” complains Ronnie’s father. “This couldn’t wait a few hours?”

“You ought to be thanking me, Rockwell.” That’s Mr. Shine’s voice, Ronnie would know it anywhere. “I have given you plenty of time to finish this task before the sun comes up. A new shipment has come in, and you are going to hide it properly this time.”

“This wasn’t part of the deal,” says Ed. “Writing your puff pieces, fine, but this—”

“You should be glad you’ve still got both your kneecaps after what you pulled last time!” That’s Mrs. Shine. She’s not a small woman, and her voice isn’t small either. “All that fancy book-learning, you’d think you’d know not to throw our investment in a ditch!”

Ronnie’s heart stops.

“Someone might think,” Mrs. Shine goes on, “that you’re the one who told the feds where it was!”

“That’s not true!” says Ed hastily. “I don’t know who took it!”

Ronnie covers his mouth with both hands to keep from crying out.

“It’s not going to happen again,” Mr. Shine assures his wife. “He knows what’s at stake. His boy’s got a bright future ahead of him, doesn’t he? It would be a shame if that football career was cut short.”

“I’ve never betrayed you, not once,” says Ed. “I swear.”

They all move to another part of the house, and their voices die away, though Ronnie can now hear their heavy footfalls ascending the steps. Ronnie wants to follow them, but he can’t get off his knees. His heart is speeding like it never has before, and breathing suddenly feels difficult.

Another brush against his mind. Jason is concerned, but Ronnie can’t bring himself to respond just yet. There are other people in the house, the men who brought Ed here are now carrying a wooden crate between themselves, likely intending to throw it in Ed’s car and make it his problem.

Ed comes back down the stairs a few minutes later. Ronnie makes a split-second decision and steps out to the hall to intercept him.

“Hey Dad,” he says. “What’s up?”

Ed’s jaw nearly hits the floor. In any other situation, it would have been hilarious.

“Ronnie? But… how?” He looked Ronnie up and down. “That’s impossible. How—?”

“What the hell is going on here, Dad?”

“You’re… you’re Firestorm?” He backs away and doesn’t stop until he bumps up against the far wall. “But—”

“Why are you working for Mr. Shine?” interrupts Ronnie.

“I can explain—”

“Great, because I want to hear it. Start with the crates full of guns and we’ll go from there.”

“But… you can’t be Firestorm. That’s impossible. How—?”

“The guns, Dad,” says Ronnie impatiently.

“You can’t be Firestorm,” repeats Ed, apparently determined to deny the truth until the bitter end. “I’ve seen pictures, he’s not you!”

There’s not enough time to get into the composite nature of Firestorm’s identity, and also Ronnie doesn’t particularly feel like his father has the right to an explanation given the circumstances. “I guess I must be some other guy with flaming hair, then. Now tell me why you’re moving guns for Shine.”

Ed looks around furtively and lowers his voice. “He wants to move back into New York City. Take his old territory back, finish what he started. He had a whole empire there before his arrest.”

“Wow, ambitious,” says Ronnie sarcastically. “And you’re helping him because… what? The paper doesn’t pay enough?”

“Don’t be an idiot, Ronnie!”

“Hey!” shouts one of the crate-moving men. He’s just come through the door, and is staring directly at them. “Rockwell, what the hell is—?”

Fire spews from Ronnie’s hands in every direction. It’s not at all a calculated attack, only pure and mindless instinct tinged with righteous fury. He can feel a piece of himself breaking, perhaps irreparably. As their surroundings catch and begin to burn, all he feels is a distant sense of relief.

The mansion’s fire alarms blare, and Ed turns to run. At the last moment, he looks back to Ronnie.

“Come on!” he shouts over the roaring flames. “We have to get out!”

“I’ll be fine,” says Ronnie, drifting a few feet off the ground and doing an idle midair backflip as evidence. He doesn’t know why everything suddenly seems so unreal. Maybe he’s in shock? Or maybe nothing has ever mattered at all.

A piece of the ceiling crashes down in a shower of sparks, but Ronnie doesn’t react. Ed grabs him by the arm and drags him toward the exit, shirt collar pulled over his nose to block the smoke. Ronnie doesn’t fight him, but he doesn’t cooperate either.

When they make it to the front lawn, Ed turns to look at the burning mansion. Everything still feels fake, like a movie, or a dream. “Oh my god,” he mumbles. “Oh my god. Did they get out?”

“Ooh yeah, good point,” says Ronnie. “Let’s go back in and save the mobster and all his guns, since you’re such great friends and all.”

“Ronnie, you don’t understand,” says Ed. “I was a journalist. I got Shine locked up fifteen years ago, and they killed your mother for it. The reason we moved so many times was to stay hidden. But they found me. They found us. I didn't have a choice—”

“Of course you had a choice,” says Ronnie bitterly. “You could have chosen not to be a coward. You could have chosen to tell me the truth!”

“I did this for you!”

“Did what?” screams Ronnie. “Spent the last fourteen years acting like you hate me? Wishing it had been me instead of Mom? Barely bothering to remember I exist unless you felt like screaming at me or hitting me?”

“We can talk about this later.” Sweat beads on Ed’s forehead. “Come on, get in the car. We’ll find a new place to hide until…”

“No,” says Ronnie. “No, I’m not going anywhere with you, and I’m sure as hell not leaving this town.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Ronnie,” says Ed, grabbing him by the arm. Ronnie punches him square in the jaw. Ed staggers back, but doesn’t fall, and he doesn’t release Ronnie’s arm.

“I’m. Not. Leaving.” He doesn't expect his father to understand or care that the other half of his soul is here in Walton Mills, but he knows the man respects brute force. “Run away if you want to, but forget you ever knew me.”

“I’m not leaving without you,” growls Ed, fingers digging into Ronnie's arm. “Stop being a self righteous little punk and get in the damn car!”

Ronnie is aghast. “Are you blind? Look at me! I could kill you! I could incinerate you. Right here, right now.”

“You won’t,” says Ed.

“Try me!” Ronnie doesn’t know when he started crying, but he can hear his tears sizzle as they evaporate.

Ed Raymond reaches into his coat and points a gun at Ronnie’s chest.

“Get. In. The car.”

“Oh, now you’re gonna shoot me?” Ronnie laughs through his tears. “Father of the fucking year. Why don’t you get it? Why don’t you understand? You’re not in charge here. I am. I’ve fought actual monsters. You think there’s anything—anything—you can do to scare me anymore? You think there’s anything you can do to hurt me?”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” says Ed. “I am trying to save your life, why don’t you understand that?”

“Wow, Dad, I don’t know. It might be the gun pointed at me, or it might be because of every interaction we’ve had since Mom died!”

“Ronnie!” That’s Jason, running up to them from the road. He’s in his Firestorm form as well. Ronnie has been so preoccupied that he didn’t even sense the transformation. “Ronnie, what—?”

“What the hell?” sputters Ed. “Both of you? What—how—”

“Jason’s mom figured it out months ago,” says Ronnie. “What’s your excuse?”

Ed doesn’t reply. Instead, he points his gun at Jason’s head. Jason freezes and raises his hands, eyes wide.

“Get in the car, Ronnie.”

Transmute it, Ronnie thinks. Please, Jace.

Jason stares down the barrel of the gun, frozen.

Please, Jace, you know how to do it.

But Ronnie can feel Jason’s icy, paralyzing fear across their bond. He’s too scared to speak, let alone perform transmutations. And Ronnie barely trusts himself either. If he does something wrong, it will be infinitely worse than the bomb at the mayor’s house.

“Dad.” His voice does not feel like his own. His body does not feel like his own. He must be floating, watching the scene play out from high above. “You have exactly three seconds to drop the gun before I turn every cell in your body into dust.” He's never been able to transmute organic materials before, but tonight he thinks he's capable of it.

Tonight he knows he's capable of it. Whatever subconscious force had been keeping him from using his full powers is gone now, and he's not sure if it's ever coming back.

“Ronnie!” chokes Jason.

“Three…”

“You won’t,” said Ed again, so outrageously, disgustingly certain that Ronnie is overcome by a fury so powerful that he does not think he will ever feel anything else for as long as he lives.

“Two…”

Ed’s finger brushes over the trigger.

An instant later, it, and the rest of Ronnie’s father, are only dust in the heavy summer air.

“Ronnie!” screams Jason. “Oh my god, oh my god…”

Reality returns. Ronnie returns. He gasps like he’s just been rescued from drowning and staggers forward to wrap Jason in a crushing embrace. They collapse onto the ground together, sobbing and shaking, and remain like that until the siren of both police cars and fire trucks fill the air.

“Oh god,” whimpers Jason. “What are we going to do?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” says Ronnie numbly. “It was me. It was all me. Once the League finds out…”

“No,” rasps Jason. “No, it was an accident!”

“It wasn’t an accident,” whispers Ronnie. His mind goes to what Damian had said the day they’d received the LexCorp offer. What Batman would do if Firestorm ever turned against them. Toss you into the phantom zone.

For how long? The rest of his existence? With nobody to talk to but Zod and his soldiers while Jason moved on with his life and married and had kids and grew older and died? While Ronnie lived on in stasis for all eternity, missing everything?

“I won’t let them,” says Jason. Ronnie hadn’t realized he was projecting his thoughts so clearly. “They’ll have to lock me in there with you.”

He means it, realizes Ronnie.

No. He will not let Jason ruin his own life. There has to be some way to protect him from the consequences of Ronnie’s actions…

He can only think of one.

“I love you forever,” says Ronnie. He gives Jason one last kiss.

Then he takes off into the sky.

When Ronnie drifts into the lobby of the main LexCorp building in Metropolis, he’s not surprised when armed guards surround him in a matter of seconds. He puts his hands behind his neck in a gesture that can be read as either surrender or casual amusement.

“Wow, okay,” he says, impressed with how ridiculously normal he sounds when inside he’s breaking into a million tiny pieces. “I’ll call ahead next time, my bad.”

Nobody cracks a smile.

“Relax, okay?” he says, putting his hands down. Nobody relaxes. “I’m here about a job. I had an offer letter but I lost it.”

At the main desk, a secretary is muttering into a phone, glancing up at Ronnie every few seconds like she expects him to start shooting firebolts all over the place.

“Okay, fine,” says Ronnie. “I’ll wait for someone to confirm it. Do you guys have a vending machine? I haven’t eaten in like… twelve hours.”

“You poor thing.” The sardonic voice comes from somewhere overhead. Ronnie looks up to the balcony that juts out halfway across the lobby. Mercy stares down at him, her expression unreadable.

“Oh, hey!” Ronnie raises a hand in greeting. “Can you tell ‘em to put the guns down? They’re making me nervous and I don’t interview well when I’m nervous.” He’s never interviewed for anything in his life but Mercy doesn’t need to know that.

“Stand down.” It’s not Mercy who speaks, but the guards immediately holster their weapons and draw back. A moment later, a bald man in a gray suit steps forward to stand beside Mercy, resting his hands on the metal rail as he leans forward to study Ronnie.

“Should I fly up?” asks Ronnie, continuing to impress himself by not freaking out. “Or did you wanna come down?”

“By all means,” says Lex Luthor, gesturing for Ronnie to approach. “I think we have a great deal to discuss.”

Ronnie. That’s Jason again, in his mind, pleading. He’d tried to catch up with Ronnie, but Ronnie could outfly him any day of the week. Ronnie, please you don’t have to do this.

Ronnie clamps down on his end of the bond, muffling Jason’s pleas to a low whisper. He forces a grin and drifts upward until he’s at eye level with Lex and Mercy.

“Great,” says Ronnie. “Where do we start?”