shankie | Chronology

Bruce is in trouble; and met with revelations, as Wally, the League, and the Batfamily all turn Gotham upside-down to find him.

Chapter Eleven: Cold

He was cold; that much he knew. Winter was cold. He was also... wet maybe? Water. Cold water.

Bruce's eyes opened slowly, and focused with difficulty. He was submerged in a bathtub, saw traces of red lacing through the water from cuts. Tried to move his arms, but they failed to respond. Too cold. No uniform.

"Well, well, well, sleeping beauty wakes up," he heard, and there was someone leaning over him.

It was... it was the red mask. But no mask. Grinning. Familiar. So hard to think.

"Who... are you?" he said, coming out like a raw croak from his throat.

"Ah, yes, I figured we'd get to that pretty quickly. Daddy."

Laughter, darkness.

Suddenly his head was pushed under the water and brought him back, sputtering when he found air again.

"No more sleepytime just yet."

"Why..?"

More laughter, cutting through his ears like blades.

"Why what? Why are you here? Why am I doing this? Why are we alive? Why does humanity keep going? You're going to have to be more specific, old man."

Bruce opened his eyes again when there was pressure at his throat, that his numb skin didn't register as a hand that pushed him down again, and there was nothing but cold, then lack of oxygen, then panic, until he was gasping and could breathe.

"Do you have any idea what I went through? Because of you? Because I was the son of the great and mighty Detective, and I had to be tough? This is nothing." The voice was full of malice and hatred, and then... his son? "No, I guess you don't. All those times you were there, with mother, and you never found me, you did nothing for me."

"I... didn't..."

"Didn't know? DIDN'T KNOW?!"

There was an unforgiving force across his cheek, and it was a struggle to find the air again, and he tasted blood alongside the bitter water in his mouth.

"The World's Greatest Detective, right? Letting no man out of your clutches, never losing. Everything under your manicured little thumb, and you're telling me you didn't know?"

"No..."

Bruce's eyes must have been closed again, because he realized he could see again, a face dark with anger hauling him close by his hair. Green eyes. Black hair. He recognized him... and saw... himself there... could it be..?

"Getting it now, huh?"

He was dropped back in the water, and came back up to air to find it laced with cigarette smoke.

Wally's birthday, missing Wally's birthday... had a son... couldn't move... probably going to die.

There was more hoarse laugher, and he realized that it was his own, burning it's way out, and his panic gone for hysterics. He had to keep it together, didn't he? Failing. Going to die. Had a son that was killing him. Cold.

He laughed until he felt his head slam into the side of the tub and he blacked out again, slipping away without a fight.

* * *

Wally had torn through the East End, through every alley, through all the sewers, everywhere he could think of and more. Clark kept talking to him from the sky, with more suggestions, but no news, and he connected to the Bats. Thankfully, Bruce's family was quick to adapt, and spent little time dwelling on a dead man suddenly barking at them over the channels.

As wonderful as it was to hear Bart's chirping voice over the line, he had to cut him off, had to focus him on task. They could have reunions later.

He found all of nothing, nothing, and more nothing.

According to Alfred, Bruce had run out looking for some guy nobody had seen until a few weeks ago, the Batfamily's own creepy stalker, without any indication of where he was going. There was a tracer in the utility belt, but his uniform had been found, discarded, in a dumpster in Chinatown.

It was there Wally was now, staring at the chipping green metal, smelling the rotting sharp odor of the alley like it had some clues for him. The only reply was a whistling wind that blew through the street, and he shivered without feeling it's chill.

"Flash to Superman; keep looking. I'm going to try something else, I'm going out of radio contact."

"Understood."

He had to think, and that's what he hadn't been doing. Before, in the future, he'd been able to feel where Bruce was. Not his Bruce. But maybe... just maybe it would work.

Wally found elementary school a block over, breaking into the gymnasium with an lock-pick from a pouch on his wrist, a skill he'd been taught after being yelled at for just snapping through padlocks and dead-bolts instead of being more careful.

It was warm in here, and silent, and that's what he needed.

He sat in the center of the cavernous room, lit only by glowing exit signs that gleamed over folded-up bleachers along one wall and hand-painted posters of some school dance still hanging high on the walls.

Wally took a deep breath and crossed his legs, and another breath, letting tension and distraction melt away. 'You can do this, you did it before, you can do this.'

* * *

Bruce suspected he was hallucinating, when he could think again. He'd look up, and see Dick leaning over him, only for it to turn into... the boy claiming to be his son. Or it'd be Clark, and once it was Tim, but always it was just... him.

He couldn't hear the taunts anymore, not clearly. Like some buzzing in his ear, indistinct and deafening as the face in front of him contorted with rage. He wondered why he wasn't dead yet, like an idle musing, and laughed again... or something like it.

The symptoms of hypothermia flew through his mind, and he tried to wiggle his toes.

And then, he was sure he was hallucinating. He felt a little spark, and thought of Wally again. He'd done that a lot recently, but Wally was gone. He was alone here. The whisper in the back of his mind was insistent, and he wondered why J'onn couldn't find him.

Maybe he wasn't looking. Maybe nobody was looking. Maybe he'd succeeded at something for once, and driven everyone away.

He laughed again, and the angry face met his, and he felt nothing again.

* * *

Wally could feel Bart running, somewhere south of him, could feel Savitar awake somewhere in Antarctica, long since moved to the Slab. He reached further, focused with everything he had along the rippling stream of the Speed Force... and there it was.

His stomach fluttered with joy, because he could feel Bruce. Still alive, in the city. Close. He brought his mind to a razor's edge of the world and his meditations, and switched his com back on.

"Flash to Superman. Scan southeast of me, not too far... can't... about halfway from... me to the water... maybe."

"Alright, I'm looking... can you be more specific..?"

"It might... be near... hard to focus... business district, maybe."

There was a pause, and Wally held on to that small flicker he could feel like a lifeline. Even if he still didn't understand why it was there.

"Superman to Flash. If I'm right, we should be looking at Wayne Tower. Lead shielding, laboratories of tech that could create a stasis field..."

Wally's eyes flew open.

"I'm there."

He ran like his life depended on it, smashing through the one window in the building he knew had no standard security on it; Bruce's office.

The laboratories were further down, and he blew past startled security guards and cleaning staff, finding just quiet and still rooms of gleaming stainless steel, offices cluttered with paper, silent halls.

The building had more than one sub-level, where security was more lax, never stopped. He blew through the lowest sub-level, where the heating systems and such for the building were, and skidded to a stop; he'd gone past exactly what he'd been looking for, a figure hunched over something in a dark room, a stasis field overhead.

Wally ran back in, grabbing whoever it was by the front of his shirt and hauling him up; then he looked down.

Bruce looked pale, and his skin had a sickly shade of blue to it.

He threw the guy into a wall and reached down, wrapping his arms around him in the cold water, and lifting him up, trying to cover every inch of him in his body, hot from running hard. Hoping it could warm him.

Bruce murmured something he couldn't understand in his ear, obviously not himself, but... him. Wally kissed his hair and clutched him, his heart breaking.

The punk in the black jacket took that opportunity to move, and Wally pointed at him sternly.

"Don't even think about it. Move again and I'll be on you so quick you'll be wondering what hit you for the next year." Wally sneered and growled, narrowing his eyes. "Not to mention the fact that Superman will prolly be what you bump into if you go outside, and he ain't none too pleased either, let me tell you." He tapped his com tersely. "Flash to all teams, I have him, Wayne Tower, lowest sub-basement. Hostile party present and ready for some nice prison time."

The stranger sneered back at him, but Wally continued glaring.

"You're lucky I don't kill people, you filth. Damned fuckin' lucky. So don't go tempting me or I might settle for snapping all the bones in your fingers."

And then... he was laughing? Wally was taken aback as the kid, and really, he wasn't any more than a kid, fell back against the wall, gripping his gut as he howled, wiping tears out of his eyes.

"Oh god, the irony, the beauty, it's killing me!"

He was making no moves to run, just sat there in hysterics until Clark appeared with Dinah, who took care of cuffing the kid and hauling him off to the cops Wally was told were waiting outside herself.

Clark made sure that Bruce was alright, then escorted the scum out with her, seething with the same anger they all were.

"S to N, I assume we don't want this to get coverage."

"One level up, Storage A, sliding panel behind a rack of toilet paper." Nightwing's voice was cut by static from being underground, but Wally was relieved once again, to hear it.

Wally hefted Bruce up in his arms, going as fast as he dared up one flight of stairs, ducking cameras until he found it; sure enough, there was a secret passage. Of course there was; this place was built by Bruce.

He murmured to Bruce as he went, apologizing for not having something to wrap him in, for being gone, for everything, rubbing his skin and trying to hurry it's return to a more healthy color. Bruce began to shiver, and he figured that was a good thing.

The passage was low and unlit, but he had a tiny LED light in his little pouches, thankful he'd had the presence of mind to put on the uniform best suited for Gotham as he walked. He'd tried to contact Nightwing again, but got only static this time.

It seemed like he'd been walking for an hour when he made it to a steel door, setting the light between his teeth and grunting as he balanced Bruce against opening it. Yellow light streamed in, and he was in a derelict subway line, with the entire Batfamily waiting with relieved sighs and warm blankets.

He let them wrap Bruce up in fleece, but kept him firmly in his arms as they led him to a Batmobile he recognized as the first one he'd ever seen Bruce in, when he was still just a kid. Nobody said a word as Dick helped him put Bruce in the passenger seat, and then got in the driver's side as Wally maneuvered in, squishing himself between the window and Bruce's cold body.

"He's being charged with breaking and entering, murder of several Gotham criminals, larceny, and anything else we can dig up," Dick said.

Wally didn't reply, too busy focusing on Bruce.

"I missed you so much," he whispered into his ear, and smiled when Bruce squeezed his hand a little, letting him know he heard him. "Just stay with me, okay?"

His throat got tight and his eyes filled with unspilled tears, and Wally just held on, burying his face in Bruce's wet hair until they reached the cave.

Alfred already had the warm mineral bath going, the one in the cave there just for this kind of thing, and Tim and Dick both helped Wally lower Bruce into it gently. Wally held onto Bruce's hand as Dick checked his vitals and Tim took a blood sample that Barbara went to analyze, but it was all distant.

When he looked up again, they were all surrounding him, looking at Bruce with worried frowns.

"He'll be fine," Tim said. "Wally... you're alive."

"Yeah. I... just had a little trouble finding my way back," he said, without looking up. "I'm sorry I'm late."

"We have to go back out," Dick said. "We'll talk later."

Wally nodded absently. He knew that, to them, him even being here was insane, but... his mind was elsewhere. He should want revenge, he should be running to find Bart, but he couldn't bring himself to do anything but brush the wet hair off Bruce's forehead tenderly, watch the pulse flicker in his veins, blue lines against unnaturally white skin. His cheek was blossoming with an angry bruise that he touched gently.

Then he was alone, with just the distant squeaks of the bats flying in and out. He realized he was exhausted and hungry, pulled off his mask and pushed the big Bat-chair over next to the steel tub, slumping in it and letting Bruce's hand fall in the water to warm his arm.

And he finally let himself drift off to sleep.

* * *

"Wally!"

He woke up with a start as Bart shrieked his name and leapt on him with a happy laugh. Wally hugged him tight until Bart pushed back and began bouncing happily on his lap.

"Ithoughtyouweredeadgonedeadandyou'realive!"

"Yes, Bart, I'm fine, but shh, he has to rest." Wally pointed at Bruce.

"Sorry," he whispered, giving Bruce a long worried frown before he looked back. "What happened whathappened?"

"I got sent into the future, wouldn't you know? I saw... lots of weird stuff. I saw you."

"Me?"

"Yeah, all old. Older than me." Bart's eyes got big, and Wally grinned. He was sure Bart was alright, future-Bart. He could feel it. "We fought this Superman from the future with a Flash that was a girl, and this pair of twins that were Batman and Shadow, and a Robin named Bruce."

"Wow," Bart said in hushed awe. "That's so cool."

"You were so cool. Taught me how to do all kinds of stuff. Like travel through time."

"Wow, wow, really?" Bart whispered excitedly. "I can't wait to get all old!"

Wally chuckled and hugged him again.

"Take your time, alright?"

Bruce made a little murmuring noise, and Bart looked over, then at Wally.

"I'm... I'll..." he abandoned what he'd tried to say, settling on just giving Wally another hug and vanishing into the manor.

Wally looked after him curiously, and then turned to bleary blue eyes looking back at him.

"Hi."

Bruce reached up and grabbed his hand, and Wally just slipped over the edge of the tub, with the warm water splashing over the sides as he knelt over Bruce without a word.

"It was real," Bruce whispered, "you're here."

Wally smiled, then leaned down and pressed his lips against Bruce's, now warm, and quickly opening, returning the kiss hungrily, and there were no more words. They kept their hands clasped together and Wally devoured him like he was life itself, met with the same longing and bittersweet loving touch.

It was like a dream, and finally, he felt the tension and fear lift away.

Alfred came downstairs a while later, announced that Bruce should be resting upstairs now, and let him know that despite the joy of seeing Wally back, he wouldn't stand for dripping on his floors.

Wally laughed and changed into some of Bruce's sweats he found, as Alfred helped him out of the tub and into much the same once he was dry. He realized that someone must have given Bruce a sedative or something when he wasn't looking, because he was quiet and a little wobbly.

"I'll take care of it from here, Alfred. It's good to see you again."

"And you, Master Wally."

Wally lifted Bruce into his arms with a grunt of complaint that he chuckled at.

"Oh yeah, I see how it is. You hauling me around is dandy, but I can't carry you upstairs?"

"Not complaining."

"Uh-huh."

The manor was just the same as he'd left it, with the exception of snow around the windows and boots lined up against the front door on a rack. Wally carried Bruce upstairs to his room, and tucked him in bed with an extra blanket thrown on the bed, then curled next to him and sighed contently.

"Need to talk to you."

"Not now. You're drugged up, and I just got here."

"Need to, it's important."

Wally sat up a little and looked down at him, frowning at the concern shadowing Bruce's face.

"What is it that it can't wait? You need to rest. I'll be here when you wake up. I promise. I'm sleepy, too."

"Wally..." Bruce reached up and touched his face clumsily, and Wally wondered what kind of crazy drugs he'd been given. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? I'm the one that..."

"No. Wally." Bruce's voice was insistent, if the edges were slurring a bit. "I'm sorry." He swallowed hard, and kept touching his face, as if worried he'd fade away. "Wasn't faithful."

"Oh jeeze, Bruce, don't you dare be sorry about that, my god. You... you thought I was dead." Tears pricked at Wally's eyes as he hugged Bruce tight, gritting his teeth together in anger at himself. "We won't talk about this now, we can't, you're not thinking straight."

"I missed you so much," Bruce whispered raggedly, and Wally just held him close until he finally fell asleep.

His sleep was heavy, and Wally was able to slip back out of the bed and out into the hall to have a good exhaustion-fueled cry in Bruce's office, blowing his nose on tissues that he scattered over the window-seat next to him, pressing his forehead into the cold glass pane until he felt better, tossed them in the trash, and went back to Bruce.

He fell into a dreamless, deep slumber almost right away, after reassuring himself that Bruce was really next to him, and really alright.