Prophecies Fulfilled

[shankie]

Wally hasn't been feeling well; Bruce is firm about him getting it checked out. Some recon with Dick, chasing strange phenomena with Ralph, and things get interrupted by unforeseen consequences.

Beta by merfilly.


Chapter Six: Family Affairs

The last time Wally had a cold, it lasted five hours. Bart got the flu in December, which lasted even less.

Bruce frowned against the outside of the bathroom door, deciding against continuing the charade of not hearing Wally being sick this particular late morning. Unheard of.

He said nothing, until the door opened and Wally stepped out, with a towel draped around his neck.

"What's that look for?"

"When's your next scheduled examination at S.T.A.R. Labs?"

"Bruce, come on..."

Wally sighed, dressed, and headed out into the hall without answering the question

He didn't answer the question on the Watchtower that afternoon, or that evening in a post-coital cuddle before work. Wally said nothing the next morning, or before an early dinner, where he begged off eating to lock himself in the bathroom in his apartment.

Once he finally came out, Bruce took desperate measures.

He threw Wally over his shoulder, and went down to the cave with him half-heartedly thumping on his back. He picked up a spool of the de-cel line, and tied Wally to the chair in front of his computer.

Without a word, Bruce dialed the number for the Metropolis branch, and set the receiver against the side of Wally's head after it rang once.

"You know, if I didn't actually mind this sort of treatment, I'd be furious," Wally said, sticking out his tongue.

He began talking to someone over the line before Bruce could respond. Bruce knew full well it wouldn't be that difficult for Wally to escape; it was just to illustrate his point.

He listened to Wally give his identification number, flirt a little with whoever he was talking to, and reschedule the physical for the next day. They hung up, and Bruce took the phone back and set it aside.

"You know, you could have just said something."

"I tried that."

"I'm fine."

"I'm glad to hear it. I'll be more glad to hear it from a professional."

Wally vibrated the line loose and shook it off him, thumping Bruce in the shoulder and gave a terse, irritated sigh.

"You slept a total of twenty hours yesterday. That's pushing it, even for you after a prolonged period of extreme physical activity."

"Yeah, it happens, so what?"

"And not being hungry?"

"I'm eating!"

"And keeping only about half of it down."

Wally's body went all defensive, and he crossed his arms, turning away a little.

"I hate it when you get like this. All lord and master over everything."

"I'm just..."

"I know, I get it, I just hate it, alright? Wally's going to be a good boy and go to the doctor over his tummy-ache, okay?"

"Wally..."

"I know, I know. I've got stuff to do, you've got stuff to do, I'll see you later."

It could have gone better, but it also could have been worse. Bruce felt a little more relieved, in either case; and even more so when he felt a gust of wind and a kiss so quick he almost missed it, and even though his apparition didn't even stop, that was fine.

* * *

"Are we moving tonight?"

"No, not yet," Dick said, "I know you've been stuck doing recon..."

"Stakeouts, seriously, last week, while Bats has all the fun."

"Covering street crime."

"Having all the fun!"

"You know just as well as I do that it's rarely that simple."

"I might have gotten better at this patience thing, but even so..."

"You have, actually," Dick said, and it made Wally pause, chuckle, and shake his head. "I warned you about the waiting."

"I know, I know. And you know what else I know? Batgirl's definitely been radioing in from Bludhaven."

"She's assisting me on a case," Dick replied, but he couldn't hide the grin that spread across his face.

"A case, huh?"

"We've also had a lot to work out, as you know."

"And you actually are? Bravo, that's rare around here."

Dick snorted.

"Baby steps." Just talking more counted for quite a bit, in his mind. "Besides, you're nobody to be talking about old girlfriends."

"Oh, what, you mean from when I was running with the Titans now and then?" Wally asked, laughing. "I was what, thirteen? Since when does that count?"

"And already quite a heartbreaker."

"Look who's talking. You turned into a halogen bulb every time Starfire got anywhere near you, not to mention vice-versa."

"It didn't work out."

"Of course not! We were kids, that never works."

"No, I guess not." Dick looked down the long empty stretches of the wharf with the night-vision set on the binoculars, still nothing. "You know, I have Jinx's current location, if you ever wanted to see how she was doing."

"Would this be actual catching up with an old friend, or the Bat version?"

"What's that?"

"Putting surveillance in their house and rooting through their garbage."

Dick raised an eyebrow at Wally's grin and let out a long-suffering sigh.

"I put my foot down at garbage, I'll have you know."

"I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

Wally really hadn't liked being sick, but people got sick for like, days, awful, all the time, didn't they? It bothered him a little, to think he was that much different, but he went to Metropolis the next day, all the same.

He sat through blood samples, tests of his respiratory system, and all kinds of running on their fancy treadmill with a hundred little electrodes stuck all over him. Pee in a cup, strength tests, scans...

It was terribly dull, and he was elated when he'd suited up, and instead of waiting around anymore, J'onn called him to meet up with Ralph in the suburbs to investigate some strange activity.

Wally couldn't remember the doctor's name, so he just called him "Doc" as he gave his apologies and took off.

Ralph always saved the real weird ones for him. Like the ghost of Belfast, Maine, or the village in Texas that kept reporting El Chupacabra sightings. They'd brought Bart in on that one. Lots of critters; none of them mystical, few of them even carnivorous.

Wally found him by a flash of his purple uniform as he walked down the street, and quickly caught up.

"What is it this time?"

"Zombies."

"Undead flesh-eating zombies, or just people wandering around aimlessly?"

"Little from column a, little from column b..." Ralph murmured, pulling out a map and studying it before deciding to take a left. "Only come out a night, I guess, but I figured if they're here, they have to be somewhere during the day."

"Right, right."

"If there are actually any around at all."

"Never know."

* * *

Barbara watched Wally leave the building, then adjusted her wig, and flashed an ID card as she walked inside. It wasn't often Bruce sent her outside the city for intel, but it happened, and she planned to make an afternoon of it once she was done.

She found Dr. Rosen's office, walking past, touching the side of the door to prevent it from locking on the way to the coffee pot in the hall. She drank three cups before the two doctors left; after that, it was a quick matter to duck inside, find the Flash's file, and take snapshots of each page, without stopping to read any of it.

The camera went back in her pocket, and she left via an alternate exit on the back side of the building.

She changed back into herself at a small hotel room in the city, where she encrypted and emailed the photos off to Bruce, then called up Kara on her way out the door.

Her work for Bruce might be mostly thankless these days, but she wasn't about to waste the perks, brushing off a bristling feeling. She was good at what she did, and proving that time after time still had it's feeling of satisfaction.

* * *

"Alright, so, no zombies just yet."

"Well, no."

Ralph was starting to look at doubtful as Wally felt, and their investigation had devolved into wandering.

Wally turned his back on the woman walking down the street to talk Ralph into calling it a day, and they both jumped in surprise when she jumped on him, trying to throttle him.

She was actually pretty strong, and it took some work to throw her off him and onto a nearby lawn; the front door opened, and a man in a sweater-vest began charging at him down the front steps.

More started coming toward them, and Wally just picked Ralph up, weaving through them.

"Alright, so, we found the zombies, now what?"

Wally concentrated on staying clear of the onslaught, as not to have to actually confront a bunch of suburbanites, while Ralph was talking over his com-link.

"He says Batman is trying to get a hold of you."

"Right now? Did you tell him we were kinda busy?"

"No, I forgot to mention it."

He ran toward the blue flash of the transporter bringing someone down, where Ollie sent a barrage of arrows peppering the ground, which began releasing some kind of fog into the oncoming crowds.

Wally set Ralph down, pausing just long enough to watch Bruce launch past him, into a few stray guys running right for them.

A few relentless kicks and a nasty sounding left across some jaws and they weren't running anymore.

"Bats, was that really..." he trailed off as Bruce grabbed his arm, and barked into the com-link for the two of them to be immediately transported up. When they re-materialized, he shook loose of the grip, and prepared himself to letting Bruce know just how he felt about all this mother-hen behavior. "Now see here..!"

"Transport us to the cave, immediately," Bruce growled at a scared-looking tech.

They re-appeared in the cave, and Wally threw off his cowl, shaking his finger in Bruce's face.

"Now, wait just one damn minute! I know that might not have met your criteria for world-shattering stuff, but..!"

"Wally, just shut up!"

Surprised, Wally did just that, taken aback as he watched Bruce push his own cowl back and pace along the floor.

"So, something's amiss, I take it?" Wally said, giving him a concerned look.

"Yes, something is amiss."

"And that something might be... what? Exactly?"

Bruce grabbed a file off his chair and stormed upstairs. Wally changed into jeans and a fleece pullover, noting that nobody else seemed to be around as Bruce sat down in the library, motioning at the seat across from him.

Wally put his feet up on the coffee-table and nestled into the fleece, still a little ruffled; Bruce wandering around the manor in uniform wasn't really reassuring him any.

"The important areas are flagged," Bruce said, handing the folder over.

Wally took it skeptically.

"And you got this already how..?"

"I just did. Now read it."

He flipped open to the first red flag; hormonal fluctuations, increased metabolism, blah blah blah... The next was CAT scan cross-section of his abdomen, with a red circle around a darker portion; the attached annotation had no preliminary speculation. Not until the next flag, which was scrawl he could barely make out, and didn't really comprehend even as he read it several times.

Wally closed the folder again, and set it carefully on the coffee table.

"Okay, I read it. I might be slow today, though, because I could swear that just said I was pregnant, and that's impossible, so obviously this is a very bad joke, it's not even April, and I don't appreciate it, Bruce."

He went to stand up, but Bruce caught his shoulder, and pushed him to sitting back down. Wally frowned at him, and his brain finally caught up with the look in Bruce's eyes and his general lack of pranking.

Wally's mouth went dry and he grabbed his face in his hands, hiding behind his knees as he processed all that.

After a moment, he looked back over at the dark figure on the other couch, and licked his lips, trying to coerce them into forming words. He ended up making faces at him, everything from angry to confused and trying to ask a question, and settled on that, confusion, swallowing and finding his voice somewhere.

"So, just so we're clear, this is like, when there's a baby growing, and like, nine months or so pass, and then a kid comes out, right?"

"That's generally what pregnancy is."

And it was so totally Batman talking, which was both reassuring and irritating at once. Which meant Bruce was probably freaking out and speechless, too.

Wally stared at him, then the file, then at his hands, folded in his pockets over his stomach. He studied the folds of blue and shadows, the little worn hole near the middle, memorized it.

Then he pulled his hands out of his pockets, and pushed the fleece up to his chest, leaving his stomach bare. It didn't look any different; a little bit of a tan left over, the little faint scar on his side. He studied that, and then touched his skin, just a quick brush of his fingers, then he stood up quickly.

He went into the front hall, pulling on a pair of boots without bothering to grab socks, lacing them hastily and roughly shrugging into his jacket.

Wally walked out to the back deck, where Alfred's garden grew in the summer, but was now just covered in green plastic and ice. He cleared off one of the stone benches and huddled up on top of it, staring blankly out at a boat bobbing distantly in the surf.

When he did put a thought together, it was a girl in a black uniform, with long red hair, flashing him a haughty smirk.

After a while, there was the soft crunch of someone walking up behind him, quietly sitting beside him on the cold bench.

"Okay, Batman, I want you to tell me what happens if I want to end it, right now."

"From what I can see, it would be fairly simple. I'd imagine you'd be completely recovered within a day," he said evenly, without a trace of feeling, which Wally was grateful for.

"Is there another option?"

"The doctors were unwilling to make any conclusive statements, but by all appearances, your body is adapting, and it seems possible it would continue to do so," he replied, not looking at Wally, expressionless, tense.

"So if I was to attempt it?"

"There would be no guarantee of success, accompanied by the risk of so many unknown variables."

"But, if I was to try, what happens?"

"You don't mean biologically."

"No, I don't."

There was a long quiet, and Wally's fingers snuck their way back under his shirt, across his stomach thoughtfully.

"You quit your job, sooner being more preferable than later, as it's an occupation that occasionally exposes you to toxic materials. You're immediately taken off of the League's duty rosters, and Bart would also, immediately, take over again as guardian of your city. You stop going on patrol. I contact the finest specialists in the world, and by tomorrow, we discover everything we possibly can about your condition. If it progresses that far, eventually you'd be unable to appear in public. Along with any number of unknown side-effects."

"Side-effects? Condition? Alright," Wally said, chewing on his lip a moment. "I've heard what Batman has to say. Now, how about Bruce?"

Wally leaned forward on his knees, waiting; he was sure that he wouldn't get a response when he was pulled back gently, and Bruce kissed him and wrapped his arms around him.

"I can't make this decision for you," he said in a whisper.

"I was kinda hoping one of us could," Wally replied, pulling loose and standing up with some pacing of his own. "Her name is Iris," he said, pausing before he looked back at Bruce. "Or maybe it isn't. Either way, I don't feel like I really have a choice." Wally frowned, and looked out again. "Even thought it seems absurdly dangerous, and I'd be pretty much giving up my life on a slim possibility."

"Yes," Bruce said, "you would be."

"We've got the boys, but they're older, they..."

"Were all rather grown up, even before we met them," Bruce said, smiling faintly, briefly. "Even Bart."

"In a lot of ways. He's old enough to have replaced me."

"He did his best."

"That means a lot, coming from you," Wally said, returning to him, feeling a little comforted in his arms. "But, it'd be different."

"We'd have a child to raise."

"Along with saving the world."

"Alfred loves children."

"And he did raise you, after all."

"We'd have to decide what name she would take."

"Iris, like I said. If it is her."

"I meant, surname."

"Oh. Well... we could figure that out somehow."

"We'd have to make certain explanations."

"I'd have to tell my mom."

"The council won't be satisfied with anything less than an explanation along with your disappearance, again."

"Stuck in the house for months on end."

"We could find something to occupy your time."

"Are we really thinking about this?" Wally cut in, hunching up his shoulders a little. "This is insane, you know that, right?"

"As usual, we would be insane together," Bruce said; it was so unexpected that Wally took a moment to laugh, even though Bruce remained serious. "It's too much to ask of you. You can't decide now. We need more information."

"Data collection, right. That's why you wouldn't be freaking out."

"I would be."

"Liar."

Bruce snuck an arm around his waist, and Wally felt a strange little shiver when he brushed over his abdomen, and bit his lip, hugging the arm.

"Maybe... I'm the wrong person to be talking to," Bruce said after a moment.

"We're pretty sure how this happened, right?"

"I don't see any other way."

"Which means it's your kid."

"W... yes."

"Alright. I know what I'm going to do," Wally said resolutely, and got up, pulling Bruce after him and back into the house.

"What?"

"Act like if I just don't think about it, it's not real. At least until tomorrow. Don't ask me about it until then."

"Are you..?"

"Fine. Fine. There's not a thing wrong or strange in the world, no siree. Alfred around? I'm having a pasta craving again."

"Are you sure..?"

"Absolutely."

Wally stopped, and hugged Bruce, laughing hysterically into his chest until tears were running down his cheeks, and his throat was raw, then sniffled, rubbed his face with a few last chuckles, and shook his head.

He took a few deep breaths, and let them out, counting to ten.

"Alright, I'm good. What's for dinner?"

Wally stopped thinking, and it worked. He was eating, he was playing Halo, he was watching cartoons, and he was asking some question and half listening to the answer as he stared at the screen over Bruce's shoulder in the cave.

But he didn't actually think, not even when Bruce and Tim left for the night, Bart went to bed a little while later, and Alfred went to read, and he was alone in the manor. Nothing to do.

He didn't feel tired, or sick, or hungry, or anything. Kind of numb, pacing the echoey rooms, occasionally sitting down to stare at something and not think.

Until the image of the girl came back.

"I can't really be considering this," he said aloud, to himself, listened to his voice bounce around the high ceiling.

He didn't really have a choice. Suddenly, he realized how true it was; he didn't. How could he possibly kill someone he might have already met? Someone who recognized him behind a mask and time. Someone who might love him. Who might grow up playing tag with Bart, or listening to Bruce read her a bedtime story.

Wally sniffled and realized he was a little teary-eyed, sighing at himself.

'Damnit.'

He waited around until Bruce got back, talking a little about his night.

Then Bruce didn't say another word, and Wally wondered what he'd say if he did. Wally kept talking at him, for a little while, until the silence became contagious, even as he went for coffee and Bruce pushed cranberry juice in his hand.

There wasn't any more use in thinking. One way or the other, he'd have to make a choice, and be all about it, or either way was going to suck and possibly ruin the rest of his life. Big decisions were like that, he'd made a few.