Chapter Text
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June 20th, 2016
13:48
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The moment he heard about Flash and Impulse at the North Magnetic Pole, attempting to generate enough kinetic energy to stop the Reach's Magnetic Field Disruptor, Wally's decision was instantaneous. Despite knowing he wasn't as fast as either of them, the speedster blood in his veins called to him. His retirement, his peaceful life with Artemis - none of it mattered in that moment. The world needed Kid Flash one last time.
His heart pounded as he made the split-second decision to run. He couldn't face Artemis, couldn't bear to see the fear and understanding in her eyes. The excuse of time pressure was convenient, but deep down, he knew the truth - he was afraid. Afraid because she would've reminded him to think of himself, and he would have listened. He always did.
The Arctic air hit him like needles against his skin when he arrived, the bitter cold seeping through his suit. But adrenaline coursed through his veins, pushing such trivial discomforts aside. His sole focus narrowed to the swirling vortex of energy before him, and the two speedsters racing against time.
"I think it just might be working!" Impulse had yelled, turning to face Flash as they ran side-by-side.
"It's definitely slowing, but not stopping. Even at our top speed I'm not certain the two of us can generate enough kinetic energy," the latter had responded, pushing himself to run as fast as he possibly could. It was worrying to see the fastest man alive struggle to keep up with himself. Terrifying, in fact.
"Then how about the three of us?" Wally had chirped, joining the two speedsters. "I may not be as fast as you two, but I can add my fair share of kinetic energy. Besides, I can't let the new kid take all the credit for saving the world." He had smirked, trying to cover the crack of uncertainty in his voice.
"Good man!" Barry had resounded.
"So crash!" Bart had cheered.
The two seasoned speedsters surged forward, their speed creating visible streaks of lightning that Wally could barely track. His muscles screamed in protest as he pushed himself harder than he ever had before, desperately trying to keep pace.
Every step felt like fire, every breath like ice in his lungs. His body trembled with exhaustion, but he refused to slow down. "Come on, Wall-man," he had panted to himself. "You can do better than that!"
Near them, the Team's bioship had arrived, its occupants rushing out. Artemis stood rigid, her knuckles white as she gripped her arms. She wasn't cold, she was angry. But her anger at Wally's impulsive decision was overshadowed by a deep, excruciating fear. They had built a life together away from all this - a normal, peaceful existence. Now, watching him race into danger, she felt that life slipping through her fingers like sand.
Dick stood beside her, his trained eyes tracking the three speedsters through the swirling energy storm. The massive tornado of chrysalis energy towered above them, its roar drowning out everything else. The bone-chilling cold seemed to seep through his suit, but Dick barely noticed it. His focus was entirely on the scene below, even as a familiar sense of dread began to build in his gut.
"Look, it's working!" He had exclaimed, fighting to ignore the same horrible feeling he'd experienced when Jason died. That same creeping sensation of impending doom. "They're shutting it down!"
Below, the three speedsters were giving everything they had. Without warning, a blast of pure energy struck Wally, making him cry out in pain. Barry's head snapped toward his protégé, eyes widening in horror. "Bart, we have to slow down more, try to syphon off some of the energy attacking Wally!"
When Flash reached for Wally, his hand passed through him as if he were made of mist. The younger speedster was becoming transparent, his form flickering like a faulty hologram.
Wally felt it happening - the strange sensation of simultaneously existing and not existing. His determination never wavered, even as his body began to fail him. "It's no good Barry," he panted, keeping his gaze fixed ahead, refusing to look at his mentor. "Ah, man, Artemis is so gonna kill me for this, and don't even get me started on mom and dad!"
"Kid?"
"Just tell them, okay?"
"KID!"
The chrysalis energy dissipated in a final burst of light, and the Team rushed forward as the storm cleared. Cheers and congratulations filled the air, but they fell on deaf ears. Dick's world had narrowed to a single, desperate thought.
Wally.
The silence that followed was deafening.
"Wait! Where's Wally?" Artemis's voice cracked with barely contained panic, though deep down, she already knew. Something inside her had felt the moment he'd vanished.
"Artemis," Barry began, his voice thick with grief as he approached her. The devastation in his eyes told her everything before he could speak. "He wanted me to tell you-"
"No," she whispered, tears streaming down her face as the truth hit her like a physical blow.
"He loved you."
Her legs gave out, and M'gann caught her as she collapsed, her sobs echoing across the frozen wasteland.
Dick stood frozen, his mind refusing to process what was happening. His heart hammered against his ribs as ice seemed to fill his veins. The suffocating cold air turned to fire in his lungs, rage and denial burning through him like wildfire.
"You're lying," He had suddenly accused. Barry turned to him, his own grief evident in his tired eyes. Before the older hero could speak, Dick lunged forward, grabbing fistfuls of the Flash's uniform. Barry didn't resist.
"He can't be gone," Dick's voice cracked. "He's Wally. He's... he's not supposed to die."
Barry placed a gentle hand on Dick's shoulder, but Dick shrugged it off violently. He took several steps backward, shaking his head.
"This isn't happening," he muttered, his words nearly lost in the howling wind. Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the swirling snow.
Conner moved to follow him, but Kaldur grabbed his teammate’s arm in an attempt to stop him. "Let him go," the Atlantean muttered. Conner spun around, shoving Kaldur’s hand away.
"He'll freeze to death if we don't go after him!" he barked.
"He just lost his best friend. He needs time alone," Kaldur said. His voice remained steady as always, but his eyes betrayed his pain.
The Team watched helplessly as Dick's figure was swallowed by the white expanse.
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July 4th, 2016
22:43
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Dick sat in the grass, leaning against a tree. The atrium's garden was dark, illuminated only by the faint glow of memorial holographs and stars shining through the glass dome. Usually, birdsong filled the garden from the surrounding trees. Now, silence reigned—broken only by muted sobs from the young vigilante keeping vigil by his best friend's holographic statue.
He had lost track of how long he'd been sitting there a long time ago. Hours? Days? Time flowed past him as he watched, as if he were a mere spectator in his own life. Dick couldn't remember much of the funeral—just fragments, like shattered pieces of a mirror reflecting back distorted memories. The way the summer sun shone too bright. The sound of Mary West's muffled sobs. The weight of Bruce's hand on his shoulder, steady but unable to anchor him. The sight of that empty casket, because there wasn't even a body to bury. The headstone. Dick was supposed to give a speech, but his hands trembled and his feet wouldn't carry him to the podium. He regretted that. What kind of person couldn't speak at their best friend's funeral?
He couldn't even remember the days that had followed. How he'd gotten to the Watchtower. Everything had been a blur. But he didn't care—none of it mattered. Nothing mattered. The only thing that had mattered was dead.
He was nineteen years old, and his best friend was dead.
Dead.
The others had tried to reach through to him—Bruce with his awkward attempts at comfort (God, he was terrible at that), Tim with his quiet understanding, Barbara with her gentle persistence. Kaldur and M'gann had come too, the Atlantean offering wisdom beyond his years while M'gann tried to radiate calm and comfort through their psychic link. Conner had shown up once, standing motionless before Wally's hologram with a cold, hard glare. His fists clenched at his sides, trembling with barely contained fury as he stared in silence before finally turning and walking away. Bart was there, too. All dressed up in Wally's colors. He'd asked if he looked like him. Dick hadn't answered, hadn't even met Bart's eyes. He couldn't. And then there was Artemis. Artemis just looked at him with hollow eyes when their paths crossed, her hand lifting slightly as if to reach out before falling limply to her side. Dick couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze, both of them drowning in the same overwhelming loss, neither able to find words through their shared pain.
But Dick had retreated further into himself with each attempt, building walls so high that even he didn't know if they could ever come down. He knew it was destroying them to watch him spiral, knew he was selfish, knew he should try to let them in. But the thought of speaking, of acknowledging this new reality where Wally didn't exist, threatened to shatter what little composure he had left. And he couldn't break. He wouldn't break. Because breaking meant accepting, and accepting meant living in a world without his best friend.
Dick's bloodshot eyes lifted to the hologram, vision swimming with unshed tears. The sight of Wally's frozen smile felt like a knife twisting in his chest. His fingers dug into the grass beneath him, desperately seeking an anchor as memories flooded his mind - countless days spent together, laughing as they spoke about their dreams and plans and promises.
Dreams and plans and promises that now had disappeared. It felt like all of Dick's memories had holes in them.
The weight of loss pressed down on him like a physical force. First his parents, then Jason. He had reminded Dick of himself - a kid full of anger and vengeance and a deep longing for validation. Jason was his little brother. He'd looked up to him, eyes full of admiration. He'd crumbled under the pressure of living up to the Robin legacy. Then, he'd died, because he was using a nickname Dick's parents had once given him, because he was bearing the mantle that Dick had bestowed upon him. And now Wally - his anchor, his constant, the one person who could see past every mask he wore. The friend who'd held him together when Jason died, who knew exactly when to push and when to just sit in silence. The only person he'd trusted enough to let see him cry since he was thirteen.
Dick had been alone in his Blüdhaven apartment when he got the call from Barbara. Her voice had been unsteady, breaking as she delivered the news that would shatter his world, just like it'd shattered when he was nine.
His fourteen-year-old baby brother was dead. The kid who'd taken over his costume, his name, his mantle—was dead. Jason, who'd bounced around the Batcave with endless energy, who'd begged Dick to teach him acrobatic moves, who'd curl up next to him during their countless movie nights. At first, Dick had laughed in disbelief. He couldn't process it as anything but a sick joke. The boy he'd grown to love and care for, the boy he'd helped Bruce raise, was dead. How utterly ironic that every family he got—either by birth or by choice—was taken from him?
Everything was blurry after that. Dick only remembered the rain pelting his face as he stood at Artemis and Wally's doorstep in Palo Alto, soaked to the bone and shivering in the cold, hard rain. He hadn't even consciously decided to go there—his body had simply taken him to the one place he knew he'd find comfort.
Wally had opened the door, his usual cheerful expression immediately morphing into concern.
"What's going on, Dick? Why aren't you home?" he'd asked, taking in Dick's drenched appearance and haunted eyes.
"I... I didn't know where else to go," Dick whispered, his voice breaking. "You're my home, Walls."
Dick had stared at him in silence after that, tears mixing with raindrops on his face. His speedster friend's eyes softened in realization, understanding dawning in those familiar green eyes. Dick didn't have to say anything more for his best friend to understand what he needed. He pulled Dick inside and hugged him tightly, closing the door behind them.
"You're my home too," Wally whispered into Dick's rain-soaked hair. He didn't mind the tears staining his t-shirt or Dick's fingers clutching desperately at his back. He simply held his best friend, stroking his back and murmuring words of comfort and love. When Dick's shivering grew more pronounced, Wally gently guided him to take a hot shower, leaving fresh clothes outside the bathroom door. Afterward, wrapped in Wally's oversized clothes that smelled of safety and home, Dick finally let himself break down completely. Wally never left his side, staying with Dick as he cried himself to exhaustion in his and Artemis's bed. When Artemis came home, she took in the scene with quiet understanding. She simply pressed a gentle kiss to Wally's temple and whispered that she'd be in the living room if they needed anything, knowing that Dick needed her boyfriend's comfort more than anything else. Even in sleep, Dick pulled Wally closer, seeking comfort in unconsciousness, while Wally continued running his hands through his friend's raven-colored hair, maintaining his quiet stream of affirmations and promises.
That was who Wally was—the one person who knew exactly what Dick needed, whether it was space to grieve, a shoulder to cry on, or simply the reassurance that he wasn't alone. He never pushed, never demanded explanations, never tried to fix things with empty platitudes. He was just there, constant and unwavering, a beacon of warmth in Dick's darkest moments.
Wally wasn't supposed to die.
Dick would have taken his place in a heartbeat.
Where was his home now?
His chest constricted as he remembered their last real conversation; after Mount Justice was destroyed—Wally's fury at Dick's deception, at putting Artemis in danger, at nearly getting them all killed. He'd never seen Wally so angry before.
"You're not Batman!" Wally had screamed at him, and those words still echoed in Dick's mind, cutting deeper than any knife.
They'd made up eventually, of course; they always did. Wally had shown up at his apartment a week later with a pizza and his old Nintendo 64, and they'd stayed up all night playing Mario Kart like they used to, neither mentioning the tension until sunrise.
"I get why you did it," Wally had said quietly as the first rays of dawn painted his freckles gold. "I don't like it, but I get it."
Dick had apologized then, voice thick with emotion, and Wally had pulled him into a crushing hug. But now, sitting here in the darkness, Dick felt the guilt consume him anew. If he'd been honest from the start, if he hadn't pushed Wally away with his secrets and lies, maybe they would have had more time. Maybe their last year together wouldn't have been tainted by distance and unspoken words.
Maybe, maybe, maybe—the possibilities haunted him like ghosts.
“Wally,” The name escaped his lips like a prayer, his voice cracking. His hands trembled violently as he hugged his knees to his chest. His mouth was dry, his head was spinning. Hot tears carved paths down his cheeks as he squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to preserve every detail of his best friend in his memory. He searched in his own mind, trying to picture his best friend. That infectious laugh that could light up any room. That ridiculous grin that promised mischief. Those freckles scattered across his face like constellations Dick had memorized years ago. Those green eyes that could read him like an open book, that saw through every defense, every pretense, every carefully constructed wall. Eyes that understood him in a way no one else ever had or ever would.
Had he done something to deserve this?
Why were the good ones always taken from him?