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[It was just an experiment. Just something with S.T.A.R. Labs, to see if he could help Barry out with this weirdo room-sized frictionless treadmill thing. Barry would run as fast as he could, and Wally would run alongside him and together they'd try to generate enough kinetic energy that it could be converted and stored. Just a test.

And Wally was in awe, as he always is whenever he sees his Uncle go all out, so much that the deep-seated sense of inadequacy that whispers nasty things in the back of his head was quiet for once. His uncle is amazing, look at him go-!

But something was wrong. He'd long since started moving so fast that Wally's eyes couldn't keep up, and he knows that they both had exceeded the speed of sound a long time ago and his uncle was nearly approaching light. Something was wrong. The room around them was too bright, then too dark, and he starts to slow and reaches for Barry to get his attention, encourage him to slow down too-

And his hand passes right through.

And all of a sudden something is behind Wally and pushing him, like a freight train at his back and shoving him forward and he thinks he slammed into the wall in front of him but he didn't, because he goes right through. His hand flies up to his nose to check for blood -did he try to vibrate? Did he succeed?- but it's dry and he's falling forward and his cheek is scraped up by gravel and his mouth tastes like ash.

Everything is quiet. He thinks he hears whispering. He tries to push himself up and his elbows and knees are aching, he must've landed on them.]

Ow. Owww. [The whispers stop and Wally glances up to see the sky gray and dark, and it's...snowing? But it's the middle of spring. And it's not cold, and it's not piling up like it should be. The people around him aren't dressed for winter- hell, they're not dressed for anything. They look terrible, and those- are those inhibitor collars?]

...uh, hi? Hello? [Wally waves and they jerk back and away from him, like he's dangerous. He's never felt ridiculous in his bright yellow and red uniform until now, with everyone in dark shades of blue and gray and green in varying states of disrepair. Where is he? This doesn't look like anywhere in the states. ...shit, is that ash falling from the sky? Did a volcano erupt?

Where is he...?!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The thing about Reach camps is that things don't really change. Everything's structured and uniform, everyone's used to everything that happens around them to the point where they become numb to it. There's routine, enforced with fear and violence, and they run their days by it.

They get up, eat just enough to keep from starving, to keep them subservient and docile, and they work and gather under their masters thumbs before being shepherded back to whatever collection of tents and shacks they're calling "home" for now. So when something strange happens, when there's something out of the ordinary literally crashing in out of nowhere, word travels fast. Even among people who speak in whispers and keep their heads down.

Bart's just a group over when the whispers of someone in yellow and red ripple through their group. Just close enough that he can slip out of one line and into another, weaving his way through those whose curiosity was still strong enough to have them pause, to not just turn and move away from where Wally had landed.

Because Wally's new, Wally's different, and while so many of the people in these camps didn't grow up with the League and heroes parading around in their bright, inspiring costumes, they still knew the stories. Everyone knew the stories. But only Bart held onto them so tight it almost felt like someone kicked him in the chest at the first sight of yellow and red. At the symbol he's always seen in dreams of a better, easier life only to laugh at the wishful thinking when he woke to darkness, hunger and ash.

He hesitates at the edge of the group, just another blank face staring at Wally, flinching any time he made too quick of a movement, curious and hopeful and also just a little bit sad, because everyone knew what happened to people who dressed like heroes, who wore the symbols of those the Reach had conquered forty years ago. Bart waits, he watches, he remembers every single story he'd ever heard, everything he could remember from those desperately clung to scraps of memory, of his aunt and dad telling him stories about his grandfather - a man even they had never met - and his cousin.

His cousin who, as far as everyone knew, had died with the rest of them long before Bart was even born.

But whoever this was, wherever he's come from, he's wearing a symbol the young Allen just can't ignore. So as the crowd begins to fade, as people remember and duck their heads and scatter like rats who've just had a light shone into their nest, Bart moves forward. And while he's dressed just like everyone else around here, while he's skinny and covered in ratty clothes and has ash smeared on his skin and caught in his hair, while there's a collar blinking red around his neck, there's an undeniable stubbornness to him that a lot of people around here seem to lack.

And it's that stubbornness that has him stopping just a foot away from Wally, eyes narrowing into an expression that'd be almost calculating and suspicious if it wasn't so strangely muted. But in the end...]

You're stupid. [... is all Bart can really say. At least before letting out an irritated sigh and gesturing almost viciously at the symbol on Wally's chest.] Cause if you're caught wearing that, they won't even bother bringing you to a ship. They'll just kill you and leave us to deal with it.

Oh, I am so sorry to be an inconvenience. [Wally rolls his eyes and pushes himself up with a groan. He puts his hand on his back and arches to crack it, rubbing his elbows and knees, head swinging around as he still tries to gather his bearings. The crowds have dispersed, obviously wanting nothing to do with him, and though Wally's usually fine with standing out when in uniform he's starting to feel self-conscious. He taps the symbol and the color darkens to black. There; still kind of obvious, but not as noticeable from a distance anymore at least.

So, the Flash symbol is a problem here.] Is this Bialya? [It sure as fuck does not look like Bialya. What are the other anti-League countries? Russia, he thinks. North Korea. Some parts of China.]

[The quip, at least, gets Bart in a slightly more receptive mood. That's something the Reach haven't been able to beat out of him just yet, something the people who know him - Nathaniel, mostly - know him the best for. Biting sarcasm. Maybe a little harsher than anything Wally would dish out, but its there none-the-less. Its something that, given a gentler environment, might grow into jokes and honest laughter.

He doesn't respond, though, doesn't even move to help Wally get to his feet if just because no one ever helps people get to their feet. What he does react to, however, is Wally's suit darkening.

His eyes widen, and he moves forward, jabbing his fingers around the symbol until he finds the spot the other had just hit, watching as the black fades away, brightens to yellow, and you better bet he's going to get at least one more poke to that trigger in before Wally reclaims his personal space.] How'd you get- you shouldn't have access to that kind of tech. None of us...

[It's like that little display flipped a switch in Bart's mind. There's a bit more of an edge to his expressions, a little more volume and life to his voice. Because while he still doesn't have a clue who this guy wearing his family's symbol is, he has tech humanity hasn't had access to in decades and he's not wearing a collar.]

No, it's- [He pauses, glances up and to the side, at the blown out ruins of the mountain in the distance, and thinks.] Rhode Island. I think.

[The first time Wally ran super-fast, he was scared. The first ten seconds of the run were the most terrifying ten seconds of his life. After that he was fine, but at first it was like someone had taken his body and rewired it in a way that was all wrong. More than just feeling off-kilter, more than just feeling dizzy; it was like his skin wasn't his, his eyes didn't work right, his legs were being used by something else and pushing him forward too fast, too fast, he couldn't control it and he was going to die.

And then he was at Barry's house and everything was fantastic.

But when the boy says "Rhode Island" it's like those ten seconds all over again. Collars. Tired, thin, worn faces, children missing fingernails from hard labor, the crowds flinching as if expecting blows; the symbol of a hero now something to fear; technology that's not unfamiliar, just unavailable, and Rhode Island, Rhode Island-]

I was just here yesterday, [Wally says uncertainly, but his stomach turns to lead and he knows something must have happened in the experiment. He was moved somewhere wrong. Ten seconds, ten seconds, that's all it takes.] I was in Rhode Island yesterday. Everything was fine.

[He turns too-quick and grabs the boy by the arms, too- too frantic, too something to be aware of how rough he's being.] Where's Happy Harbor? Mount Justice? Do you know what I'm talking about?

[He wants to call this guy out. Wants to tell him there's no way he'd been here yesterday and had things be fine. Wants to say that things haven't been fine in forty years. But he can't-- he can't move fast enough.

He can't think, can't open his mouth to speak before Wally's turned and grabbed at his arms. He's slow, normal slow and it shouldn't still bother him, he should be used to it. He can barely remember fast and yet it still- it still makes fury beat in his heart and claw at his stomach.

Fury that's quickly chased by the cold that spreads through him as his body jerks slightly under Wally's grip, as all the interest and curiosity is replaced by a blankness only broken by the spark of instinctual fear in his eyes. If he's still, if he doesn't move a muscle, doesn't tense, doesn't try to break the grip just- just looks down and doesn't make eye contact...]

I know, everyone knows its- [Why he's here, in this camp, patrolled by Blue Beetle in the shadow of a destroyed mountain] This is Mount Justice.

[And because he can't help himself, because he's Bart Allen and humor is a vicious weapon, despite the way his voice has dropped in volume, the way he's doing his best to be submissive to this potential threat, he can't help the bite of his tone when he says- ]

What's left of it, anyway.

[Something about how Bart goes still really bothers Wally, and that's just on top of everything else so he all but throws the kid away from himself, backing up until his shoulders smack into a nearby rock formation. He turns and looks up. Looks over.

It's a mountain's crater. Where one used to be.]

That's not true. That's not true, I was just here-! [The corners of his vision are dimming before Wally realizes that he's hyperventilating, has been, and he squeezes his hands into fists and takes a deep breath. Deep breaths, in and out, in out.] Okay. You-

[Wally stumbles forward because something off in the distance explodes, rocking the ground and air around them; the explosion flashes bright blue before belching smoke and dust, and he instinctively grabs for the kid as the shockwave approaches, shoving him down and covering his head. It takes a moment for Wally's ears to stop ringing and he lets the boy up, staring at the mushroom cloud swelling in the distance.] What the hell was that...?

[He stumbles a little with how Wally almost shoves him off and away, forcing that burst of instinctual fear settle back into a wariness he's so used to. It's... actually pretty easy to see that the guy in front of him is freaking out. That, for some reason, seeing Mount Justice like it has been for the last forty years, has set him into what Bart is identifying as a... panic attack?

He doesn't get it, and he might have said something about it if there wasn't a hit, an explosion, something that rattles the ground and booms in the air. That kicks up dirt and ash and blows it outwards. And Bart is used to being defensive, to having to duck and avoid and find cover, so when the weirdo wearing his family's symbol rushes over and pushes him down, Bart's falling to his knees and wrapping his arms up over his head, gritting his teeth and shutting his eyes against the kick of ash in the air. Only moving until after Wally is, and even then he stays kneeling on the ground, hunched and staring blankly towards the darkening sky.]

I- [He pauses, swallows and clears his throat against the sudden dryness.] I don't-

[Suddenly, Bart's eyes are shooting open wide, he's scrambling to his feet and staring at Wally, at this weird guy who doesn't know where he is and is wearing the colors of Kid Flash, looks like every description of his dead cousin Bart's ever heard, like the photos his father coveted - worn and creased and smudged with dirt - who's wearing the symbol right on his chest.

He grabs Wally's arm, grip strong despite how stick-thin and weak his entire body looks, fueled by a sudden burning panic.] We have to get to the camp. If- if whatever that was gets here- you can't be wearing that.

[And if that comes off as a little more accusatory and less concerned, well. He can't be blamed. That's his family's legacy, even if he isn't doing anything with it.]

[Okay-

Okay okay. Wally doesn't even have to ask himself if he believes the kid about there being danger and about the symbol; he just asks which way the camp is, grabs the kid up into his arms and takes off. He'll figure it out after that, if he's going to just leave the kid there an circle back to lead away danger or what, but first they need to get out of here.]

[It's like, the second that Wally picks him up and starts running, Bart's mind goes blank. It's like the rush of wind in his ears turns into white noise as he screws his eyes shut against the rush of air, against the slamming of his heart in his chest as every inch of him recognizes the speed he's been cut off from for over half of his life, now.

And oh, that collar around his neck has never felt heavier than it does when Wally finds the camp, when he sets him down and Bart can just tell he's about to run off again, knows how the freedom of superspeed works so he's grabbing Wally's arm even before they stop, keeping a frantic hold that matches the expression on his face.]

You're a meta. [A meta without a collar with superspeed with red hair and a face that's so similar to the photos he can barely remember and a red and yellow uniform that fades to black - stealth mode to be part of a covert team - and Bart feels his legs start to tremble under him.] Who... who are you?

[What the fuck is a meta?

Wally glances back at the kid when he grabs his arm, fingers digging into his bicep and to be honest he's got a surprisingly strong grip for a guy who looks so horribly malnourished.]

I'm Kid Flash. [And Wally glances over at the cloud in the distance.] Look, I gotta go check out that explosion, make sure nobody was hurt. I'll come right back.

[It comes from being forced to carry things every day from sun up to sun down you'll get used to the slave life soon enough, Wallace.]

No. [Bart doesn't know what this is, what's clawing at his chest and making it feel like all the air has been squeezed from his lungs. He doesn't understand why his thoughts feel both too fast and too slow and why he suddenly feels like the flash symbol has been burned into his mind, that he can almost see it every time he blinks. Like the ghost of a legacy he's done nothing- nothing for to the point where this... this look-alike of his dead cousin has taken a name he... has no authority over.

He might be the only living Allen, but Bart knows he sure as hell isn't a Flash.] Kid Flash is dead. [...] Or, well, the only guy who ever was Kid Flash is.

What? [Wally yanks his arm from Bart's grip and jerks a thumb at his chest.] No he's not, because I'm Kid Flash. I did just kind of run us ten miles in a few seconds, what more proof do you need?

I don't know. [Vaguely, he thinks he should be yelling. He definitely feels like yelling. Feels something heavy and angry in his chest. Or maybe its something else entirely. Maybe its that same feeling he gets whenever he thinks of his mom, his dad, his grandfather, his cousin.

But instead, he's just keeping everything kind of monotone.] But you can't be, because Wally died before I was even born. And all metas have these. [He thumbs at his collar, and while he isn't yelling, there's a definite bite to his voice.] So I don't know.

[It's almost embarrassing, how much that startles him when he hears his name coming out of that kid's mouth. It's hard enough getting people to remember his superhero name, nobody knows or cares about his civilian name. Only the team. Only his family.] How-

[It has to be the experiment.] Okay, I don't know how you know my real name but I am Kid Flash. I- me and the Flash, we were conducting an experiment. Something went wrong and the next thing I know I'm here, but- listen we can go over this later. There might be people hurt over there, I need to go check it out.

[Embarrassing, sure, but it's also what cinches it. What has Bart's heart practically stuttering to a stop in his chest. He may be a little jaded, but that doesn't mean he can't pick up on honest reactions.]

You're- [His voice cracks, and he stops and swallows through a sudden lump in his throat.] You're Wally West? You ran with Barry Allen? The Flash? [Why is he even thinking of believing this, it's impossible to believe. There's no such thing as time travel it's stupid.

And yet as soon as Wally says something about leaving, Bart's moving. Bart's moving and reaching out to stop him before snapping his hands back to his sides, standing with wide eyes and his mouth open, jaw quivering as if he's about to say something, to say something out of what would, in that instant, be sheer panic and desperation, but-

He stops. He breathes. He calms down.]

Don't. People who do that don't come back. [He glances towards where the dust is still settling, where the sky's still a little darker.] Especially not when they're from- [our, but for some reason he can't-- he just can't.] -your family.

[For a second it looks like the kid is going to cry, but then everything goes blank after he takes a deep breath and Wally gets that unsettled feeling again, that ten-second feeling. His eyes are big and familiar and he can't place his finger on it, but Wally thinks he might've seen this kid somewhere before. Or someone who looked a lot like him, maybe.

But that's impossible He's- he just mentioned Barry. He said Wally died before he was even born, and he's got to be at least twelve. The symbol, how reluctant he is to let Wally go-

Wally needs the whole story. The whole story. And this kid might be the only one who can give it to him, but he can't just ignore that. He has to at least make sure there's nothing he can do. He saw how nobody stepped forward to help him up; how nobody wanted anything to do with him, and how this kid reached out to him and still doesn't want to reach too far. The signs of an agonizing life, of hard labor; there might not be anybody else to help.

So KF sets his hand on the kid's shoulder.] What's your name?

[The fact that Wally isn't leaving, that he's not running off at superspeed to help someone who was probably already dead calms Bart down more than he'd like to admit. There's not a lot that bothers him, anymore. Not a lot that makes him feel so panicked and choked. But seeing someone who has even the vaguest connection to his family (and not vague at all, if he's to be believed) run off while Bart's stuck behind, not able to run after and help.

He can't do that again. He can't have every single memory of family be someone running away, never seen or heard from again.

He's so caught up in that thought, in the memories and the aching exhaustion that always settles in from that that he doesn't even react to the hand falling on his shoulder, just stares at it a little blankly before sighing and dropping his gaze to the ground. To the hard and compact ash that made up the floor of their camp. His name in and of itself is a give away of who he is. He was shaped into legacy from the moment he came into this world.]

Bart. [Is all he finally mumbles, because he's not the kid who proudly crows about his heritage and jumps grinning out of a time machine. Because he's twelve, maybe, and tired and living oppressed and cut off from everything his family is known for.

Because he doesn't believe in time travel and heroes are just dumb meat who die faster than others.]

Bart. [When he looks down and away, and even ducking his head Wally can't catch his eye, he gives up on that. For now.] I have to go make sure. I have to. It's what I do. [It's what he is.] But I'm going to come back. You're the only one who's even said two words to me here, so if I've got any shot at figuring this out, it's you.

I'll be gone two hours. Tops. I promise. Will you still be here? [Will he still want to talk to Wally after he ignored Bart's warnings, more like.]

[He can't help it, he snorts at what Wally's asking, just shrugging off his apparent cousin's hand and taking a step back, looking up and his expression is cold and tired again, withdrawn like everyone else here.]

I live here. [In tents and ratted sheets and cardboard under broken, crumbling walls.] I'm not going anywhere. You're the one who's gonna die if you go out there.

[His shoulders slump, and he sighs] But yeah, sure. Two hours. [He hates that he's actually going to count]

[Wally holds up his hands when Bart shrugs him off.] Two hours. [He sets his computer wristwatch for an hour and a half, just in case, and turns to run off. He's already wasted enough time trying to convince Bart, he has to go see if there's anything he can do to help.

There isn't.

When Wally gets to the blast site, he finds bodies. Not many, but a lot of them are singed or in pieces, and he dry heaves behind a boulder for a while before heading in to investigate. It looks like a different camp, similar to the one Bart directed him to. What's left of the bodies are clothed in similar rags, and there are chunks of collars everywhere.

Wally picks a few of the more whole pieces up. They might come in handy.

It's not quite the hour and thirty that he set his timer for when Wally hears a sound. A low, prominent humming that has his hair standing on end, that sounds like the kind of vibrations he'd feel in his toes and fingers before his nose gushes blood and his head pounds like a sledgehammer on a railroad spike. It's not the good kind of vibrations. It's the kind that start low, rise in pitch until it's piercing and then something explodes.

Wally clutches the collar pieces to his chest and bolts. He's not entirely sure he escapes detection, but he's miles away in seconds and he heads away from the camp so that he can't be traced back. He's not sure what keeps him running -dread?- and he hears his timer beep at him in warning but he keeps going, zig-zagging and doubling back until he comes near the camp and stops to walk in, ten minutes later. Never fails.

He heads for the approximate tent he saw Bart heading toward when they first arrived and pokes his head inside. Hopefully he's not interrupting some random family or anything.]

Bart?

... You're still alive.

[The sound comes from behind Wally, and when he turns he'll find Bart standing with a ball of dark fabric in his arms, his face frozen in some middle ground of confusion, annoyance, and relief. He'd love to say he gave up on Kid Flash just minutes after he ran off. That he just wrote this off as yet another speedster who runs off to go and help, to do something against the Reach and just ends up dead, and yet... while he'd gone inside his tent and laid there for a while after Wally left, glaring at the ratty fabric above him- he was still counting the minutes.

He shoves the wadded up jacket - a little torn and dirty, but it'll cover up the symbol on Wally's chest - at his cousin as he slips past him, moving into the tent and reaching out to pull Wally in after him.]

You need to ditch the cowl and goggles and wear that jacket while you're at the camp. [He's sitting cross legged in the ash, his hands gripping at his ankles as he leans forward, peering at what Wally'd brought back with him.] What's that?

[He doesn't ask if Wally actually did manage to help anyone because, well, Bart already knows the answer. He's had to clean up the aftermath of explosions like that before. Had to break down camps and cart off materials, to drag bits and pieces of meat into a giant pile and just try not to think too hard about what he tried to wash from his hands later.]

[The jacket stinks, but it's pretty clear that it's one of the few things Bart owns so Wally pulls it on and buttons it up without complaint. He's more reluctant to remove his cowl even though it doesn't make a difference concerning his secret identity. He feels defenseless and naked without it, but Bart has a point. Whatever blew up that camp and whatever he almost ran into out there, it's powerful. Maybe there's more than one. He should do what he can to blend in.

He pulls his goggles down around his neck and tucks them beneath the collar of the jacket, and his cowl gets a similar treatment at the back of his neck. He feels exposed, even though his mask doesn't have much coverage to begin with, but at least he won't be immediately suspicious anymore.]

What I could get of the collars, [Wally answers when Bart asks, and starts laying out the pieces in front of them. There aren't enough different pieces to assemble an entire collar, but it's pretty close. More importantly, he got the circuitry box. A whole one.] Not sure how helpful these'll be in trying to get that thing off of you, but it's something to work on.

[Bart can't help but feel a little more at ease as Wally covers up the symbol on his chest, as he tucks his cowl away and looks more like he fits in and less like he's trying to be a target. Not only is it safer it's just- its easier to sit and talk to Wally when its not like... talking to the ghost of a person he never met.

Even if he is, apparently, that person UGH this is headache inducing.

His eyes light up when Wally mentions the collars, though, and he waits impatiently for Wally to set out the pieces before snatching one up, turning it over in his hands before glancing up. That confusion's back in place]

Why do you care? [His fingers drum against the warped and broken edge of metal] Shouldn't you be freaking out about getting back to wherever you came from?

[Where, not when. Because Bart still hasn't fully accepted this situation.]

Oh, I am 100% freaking out, [Wally says, picking up another piece and crossing his legs,] and I definitely need to get back home. But I can't ignore the crap I see here. Besides, I scratch your back, you might scratch mine, right? [Wally shrugs.] I dunno what I'm doing here. You know your way around. I need your help, so first I should help you. It's only right.

[Bart's keeping a careful eye on Wally as they sit in the tent, just watching him from under messy, ash covered bangs.]

Yeah. I guess. [He turns the metal over in his hands, frowning.] Are you... always so trusting?

I mean, I could have... nuclear abilities or something. You could be dead as soon as you help me get out of this thing.