A Flash by Any Other Name

[shankie]

Wally finds out some of Bruce's past that makes him question their relationship... but the surprises don't end there.


Part Twenty: Trial Separation

Wally & J'onn hung out in Wally's head for what seemed like a very long time before they both decided it was time to wake up and reassure everyone they were alright. After a while, J'onn had taught him how to make furniture and objects in there, and they'd reclined on couches sipping mochas, talking over... pretty much everything.

Co-therapy, Martian style.

J'onn warned him that it wouldn't be as easy to deal with the dredged-up crap once he was conscious again, but Wally wasn't too worried. Getting over bad memories was in the Justice League job description; or at least it should be. Along with "Normal life? Yeah, about that... no."

His eyes fluttered open and adjusted to the dim light; he was in his room on the Watchtower, with Bruce slumped over asleep on the bed beside him, holding his hand loosely. He was back in Batman gear, with the cowl pulled back, and looked all tuckered out. He'd have to be, to fall asleep when he hadn't intended to, what with the Bat-mojo.

And then he realized his vision was perfectly clear and sharp.

Wally grinned, tucked sleeping Bruce in a more comfortable position with no small amount of surprise he didn't stir, then changed into his uniform and took laps around the Watchtower.

It'd been so long! He wanted to frolic like a Swiss schoolgirl, but contented with running along the walls, jumping over planes in the hanger, and even taking a detour over the ginormous swimming pool on the bottom level, running his fingers along the surface of the water as he ran.

He kept going until he'd passed everyone a dozen times.

Back in his room, Bruce was snoring like a buzzsaw and looked about as threatening as a stray kitten, clutching absently at the lightning bolt-printed comforter.

He slid onto the bed, crawling over and straddling his legs over Bruce's.

"Wakie, wakie, sleeping beauty." Wally whispered into his ear, then licked it and nibbled gently. "I've got some Prince Charming for ya."

"Isn't that my line?" Bruce murmured, stretching and shifting his body towards Wally's.

"Nope."

He pulled back the comforter and began tracing the lines of kevlar with his hands, and the back of Bruce's neck with his tongue. He was rewarded by quickening breath and quiet appreciative moans as a pair of calloused hands worked their way under Wally's tight uniform.

"I'm developing quite a file on your weaknesses, Batman."

"It's only fair."

"Mmmhmmmm..."

Wally snaked his hands to grab the firm, and thankfully less armoured, curve of his thighs, reaching slowly around to the ass so often hidden away by the black cape, but ever so nicely filling out the tailored designer pants he'd been sorely missing the sight of.

Bruce chose that particular moment to yawn loudly, pulling away his right hand to cover his mouth.

"Feh, I see how it is."

"I just need a moment... I'm not built for racing at the speed of sound, you know."

"Uh-huh. I should go talk to Supes, anyway."

Wally sat back on Bruce's thighs, playing with a stray lock of red hair idly. It'd been growing out, and he hadn't bothered to trim it.

"I want to get back on the full-time roster. I can see just fine now."

Bruce nodded.

"I'm glad to hear it.

"Mmmhmm." Wally leaned down and gave Bruce a quick kiss before vanishing in a gust of wind.

* * *

Wally already knew where Clark was, from his zipping around; the monitor womb, pulling a shift. He came to a stop in the doorway and leaned against it casually.

"Knock-knock."

"Well, well, if it isn't our brilliant strategist."

"I wouldn't call it brilliant. Big guys hit stuff, Bats go sneak around taking out guards." Wally shrugged. "How's Diana doing, anyway?"

"Mr. Terrific and Atom's got her and our more roguish guests in the medical bay. Shouldn't be too much longer." Clark turned away from the monitors to face him. "How's Bruce?"

"Well, I, um..."

"I think now would be a good time to mention how truly remarkable my sense of smell is."

Clark said it obviously meaning to come off nonchalant, but his voice had a strange edge to it. Somewhere between an accusation and hesitation.

'His sense of... OH. That's kinda... gross.' Wally crossed his arms defensively.

"So that's why you were acting like I'd just caught you peeking at a porno mag back at the manor."

"I was just a little..."

"Disturbed on more levels than you could count?"

Clark nodded.

"Well Supes, join the party. I'm pretty sure everyone but Bats, you know, that's in on this little bit of insanity, has moments like that."

"Even you?"

"He was totally stalking me for God knows how long. Even bought my damn apartment complex before he'd even talk to me in complete sentences. Yeah. And now that we're actually, you know..."

Clark swallowed and turned back to the monitors.

"I think that this conversation is moving into the direction of 'too much information,' Flash."

"You're the one who brought it up." Wally went for an iced mocha then ran back, sipping at it. "Anyway, that's not why I'm here. Obviously. I want to go back to full-time, I'm totally done with this extended vacation by kidnappings, etcetera. I'm going planet-side for the rest of the day, then I'm all about it."

"If you're sure, we'll all be glad to have you back up here. Just get a check-up in the medical bay before you leave."

Wally sighed dramatically.

"Fine, fine."

"And I want you to be careful, Wally. He's not a man that..."

"Haven't we been over this before, Superman?" Wally jumped as Batman's voice suddenly sounded over his shoulder. "I believe we concluded that you're hardly qualified to criticize my relationships."

"You're gonna be the death of me, Bats." Wally said, theatrically clutching his drink to his chest.

Clark was looking irritated in that yes, I do actually have a death glare, thanks for asking way.

"My reservations about your relationship with Lois were prior to discovering just how dank and twisted your intimate history is, Bruce. I think I've moved beyond being critical to justifiably concerned."

Clark had stood up, and now they were facing each other with crossed arms and narrowed eyes, like some inverted mirror image, with Wally edging his way out of the middle.

"Guys, great as it is to have people fighting over me..."

"I believe it's none of your business, Clark."

"Talia was my business. And she's hardly the only criminal on the list."

"We were never involved."

"So let's just focus on certain sordid tryst with one of your disciples."

Bruce stepped forward and pointed a finger right in Clark's face.

"I don't know why it is that none of you damn aliens can ever keep your mouths shut, or why you've suddenly decided to mount your moral high-horse, but you have no right to talk about her."

"That kind behaviour is unacceptable. When Kara told me, I almost went to the League council with it." Clark retorted with a snarl.

"My personal life is not subject to the council's scrutiny."

"Our apprentices are a very serious matter. I think it says a lot about a person who'd abuse that authority."

There were certain times that Wally had definitely felt like 'the woman' in this relationship. For instance, when he'd been wearing a skirt, or the many times Bruce had found an excuse to sweep him off his feet and carry him around like newlyweds crossing a threshold. Now was one of those times, but not in a good way, at all.

Wally was furious. He was not some damsel that needed a couple of meatheads fighting over what was good for him or not.

"Will you two shut the fuck up?" He put a hand on each of their chests, pushing them apart with all the force he could muster, and they both stumbled back a couple steps; prolly from surprise more than anything. "If you're just going to stand here and have a juvenile measuring contest, I'm out of here. And both of you can just forget about being all chummy with me." He pointed at Clark with a dark look on his face. "You are acting like a baby. And you..." He turned to Bruce. "You are out of your fuckin' mind. I don't suppose you have a reason that this is the first time I've heard all that?"

Bruce was silent, looking down at the floor, still seething.

"Yeah, I didn't think so. I'm outta here. Go tear each other apart for all I care."

Wally flew out of there as fast as he could safely run indoors down to the teleportation pad, where he tersely told a tech there to beam him down... anywhere. He materialized just outside of Keystone, where he took off running, fueled by anger and doubt.

Bruce had been sleeping with Batgirl. That had to be who they were talking about. How did he not tell him that? Did he just think that he'd never find out? Did Bruce really think that little of him?

He was skimming over the Pacific when an even darker thought came out of emerging doubt; 'What if Bruce is just using me?' Bruce used everyone. He'd admitted it openly; the Bat never lifted a finger without a hidden agenda. Wally ran faster, and kept going until his muscles were screaming in fatigue. It was almost thirty laps around the globe before he finally went towards the Central City and home.

* * *

Wally re-stocked his refrigerator, plugged his appliances back in, and swept his apartment for Bat-bugs; he wasn't disappointed, finding little bits of black tech all over the place. He threw them in the river.

The friendly smiles and waves he got from people as he ran through at what was a slow jog for him brightened up his day a bit, and he stopped to fix someone's engine pulled over alongside the freeway, gaining an earful of just how glad everyone was that he was back. Nobody asked where he'd been.

After a few laps around the city, he went to his mother's house, weeding her little flower gardens before he went in the kitchen door and swept off his mask. She was wearing a flower-print apron over jeans and a pink blouse, pulling cookies out of the oven.

"Hey mom!"

"Oh Wally, I'm so glad you're ok." She put down the tray and pulled off her oven-mitts to give him a tight hug. "I was worried when you just took off in the middle of the night... but it was the strangest thing, until today I'd just forgotten about, you know, all that."

She gestured vaguely at his costume after she let go.

"I know, it's a looong story."

While she turned around, he ran upstairs and changed into some jeans and a t-shirt, and ran back down. It wasn't until he sat down at the table that he realized it was a Batman t-shirt, and frowned.

"You hungry?"

"Perpetually."

They both laughed, and he fiddled with a cup full of pens on the table while she rummaged through the 'fridge.

"So, honey, who wrote that note?"

"Um, a colleague."

"Oooh, another superhero, huh? Which one?"

"Green Lantern." He lied.

"Mr. Stewart? He's such a gentleman. Rarity these days."

"Tell me about it."

* * *

A week passed.

Wally stuck to his plan, going for the bill of good health on the Watchtower, attending meetings, and responding to the occasional call to League duty. The meetings were the worst.

At the moment, Kara and Shayera were arguing with Ollie about... something. He wasn't really paying attention to that anymore, just to the looks that Supes and Bats were giving him. Wally was pointedly ignoring Bruce, but Clark definitely had the thinly-veiled expression of desperately wanting to be forgiven. One thing that Clark always hated was someone being mad at him; you'd have to be a pretty awful villain-type for him not to care.

So once the argument was finally ended with Diana's usual diplomacy and Clark was uncomfortably hanging back by the window as everyone else filed out, Wally relented and stood next to him, crossing his arms and making it very clear that he'd have to earn it. Wally wasn't really angry at him anymore, but it was the principal of the thing.

"Flash, I want to start out by saying I never meant to say any of that. I didn't mean to treat you like a child, and I don't think of you that way at all. I have the upmost respect for you."

"But?"

"When he wants something, he'll do anything to get it. He's... manipulative. I just didn't want to see a friend hurt because of that."

"I know who he is, Supes. Which has nothing to do with the secret identity, believe me. Despite what you guys all think, I'm not naive."

"I never said that."

"You were acting like it."

"I'm sorry for that, Flash. I really am."

"Yeah... I know man."

He gave Clark a quick hug, patting him firmly on the back. Superman, once you got past the awe of his iconic grandeur, was always about the hugging.

"Just... don't do it again." He said with a wry look.

"Have you talked to him yet?"

"His silence pretty much says it all." Wally said with a frown.

"Well... that's hardly out of character." Clark intoned, looking back out at the stars.

"Bats knows how to find me. I also know, contrary to popular belief, he is capable of using his vocal cords for something other than barking orders and picking fights."

"I wouldn't hold my breath."

"I'm not."

Wally transported back to his apartment, changing into slacks and a button-up shirt before heading down to the street and walking to the crime lab. He strolled through the building, waving hello to the people he passed on his way to Clive's office.

The door was open, so he just knocked on the doorjamb.

"Come on in, Wally. What did you need to see me about?"

He sat down in a plush chair in front of Clive's modest desk, looking around at the diplomas on the wall before he turned back to his boss.

"Well, you know I've been having a little bit of a crazy past few months. I'm thinking I could use a career change... I love working here, don't get me wrong, but I just want to do something different."

"I'm sorry to hear about that. You know, despite your absence, we still could really use you in the lab."

"Yeah... I just want to do something else for a while." Wally crossed his legs and began fingering the laces on his shoes.

"Do you have anything in mind?"

"Yeah, actually. I used to work at a body shop to help pay my way through college... I think I'd like to play grease-monkey again, work with my hands."

"Oh yeah?" Clive leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. "You know, there's an opening in the department's motor pool for a mechanic. I could put in a good word, if you can get some references together."

Wally grinned.

"Shouldn't be a problem."

"You'll be missed, Wally. And you'll always have a place here, if you change your mind. Was that all you wanted to see me about?" Clive cocked his head to one side, as if to draw out a response with his own curiosity.

"Yeah."

The League communicator began beeping in his ear, prompting Wally to speed things up.

"I have to get going, actually." He stood up, and Clive did the same, shaking his hand firmly. "Thanks again. It's been a pleasure."

Wally ducked out into the hall and into an empty break room.

"Flash here."

"Could you meet us in Baja California, at these coordinates?" John listed off a destination hurriedly. "We've got some weird activity here that could use some of your talent."

"Can-do."

Wally raced out of the building and across the country. 'Off to save the day...'

* * *

Working with engines was like riding a bike; and Wally was having a marvelous time re-aquainting himself with the task. He'd been a bit rusty, but a trip to the library and some practice in the junkyard had brought him back up to speed.

Something about the deliberate slowness and problem-solving, that had always frustrated him when he was younger, was cathartic and meditative this time around.

He worked the late shift, patrolling the city during the day and coming home around nine; usually he was able to just have a quiet dinner in between patrols of the city and watching TV. He was being distant from the other League members, keeping things terse and work-related.

A bunch of his stuff was still at Wayne Manor, but he didn't want to go back for it. Didn't want to talk to Alfred, even though he'd never ask him probing questions, with his British gentility and all.

But, he had to admit... he missed Bruce. Once his anger had burned itself out, all that was left was a little empty place. The impulse to go talk to him kept coming back, but Wally pushed it away.

He switched on the TV, setting down a stack of pancakes slathered in blueberry jam and butter on the coffee table. He made it halfway through the stack, and a Tom & Jerry cartoon, when there was a knock on the door that made him drop his fork; his heart leapt in spite of himself, and he jumped up at speed to open it.

John stood there in a leather jacket, holding a six-pack of beer and a bag of donuts. Wally smiled, even though he was... disappointed. It was always good to see John.

"Hey man, I brought offerings." John grinned, holding up his packages. "Can I come in?"

"Of course, what's up?"

They lounged on the couch, and Wally turned the volume down as he finished the pancakes and moved on to a cold bottle of microbrew.

"Can't an old friend come over without a reason?"

John shrugged out of his jacket, throwing it over the back of the couch, grabbing his own beer. His delay in answering the question, however, was noted.

"You might as well just tell me man, it works better than trying to pry it out of you for a good hour before we get to it." Wally replied.

"Alright. You've been brooding, Wally. You don't brood, just as a matter of universal law." John took a couple swigs, looking at the cartoons move across the screen without really paying attention. "And the Bat..."

"I'm mad at him. We're not speaking." Wally said after a pause, a little grimly.

"I don't suppose you want to talk about it?"

Wally shook his head.

"No, not really."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think he could use your help right now. It's incredible, he didn't even made bail, and..."

"Huh?" Wally turned and gave John his full attention. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't you ever watch the news on this thing?"

Wally just raised his brows and gave him an expectant look.

"It's been all over the place for a good week, man. 'Billionaire Bruce Wayne arrested for murder of Gotham debutante.' You seriously haven't been paying any attention?" John shook his head in disbelief.

Blinking a few times, Wally finally processed that, and ran out, grabbing a paper from a newsstand down the road and returning to his seat, scanning though the headlines.

"I can't... he'd never..." Wally shook his head in shock as he read through an article on the third page, next to a photo of Bruce in handcuffs, avoiding the camera with a scowl on his face. "I don't believe it." He said quietly, but firmly. "He... they said he shot her. He'd never touch a gun, he wouldn't."

According to the paper... he had. In his bedroom. With his own gun. With malice. Vesper Fairchild, an old girlfriend Wally'd never heard of before... not that that was a surprise.

"Are you sure?" John said after a few minutes, his voice low and unreadable.

Wally didn't answer him.

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