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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...?!]

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[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.

If that happens, I guess I'll deal with it then. [Wally shrugs and hands over the part he's been fiddling with.] So what are your powers?

[Bart hesitates before taking the part from Wally, if just because he's debating. Does he lie? Does he tell this guy who's- who's apparently some weird, temporally displaced younger version of the man who helped raise his dad and aunt in the middle of a quiet alien warzone that he has some random power and then run off as soon as his collar's gone and have that be that? Or...]

...... Speed. [He says, finally, and ducks his head as he takes the piece of collar from Wally's hands, getting his fingers underneath an outer clasp and wrenching the paneling up to see the burned out bits of wiring. There's no way he's looking Kid Flash in the eyes right now.] It's speed.

[As if in contrast, Wally can't take his eyes off Bart now, like if he stares hard enough it'll be like reading a book. Even if the way Bart reacts to things is seriously uncanny valley to him.]

You know me, don't you? Know all of us.

[He can practically feel Wally staring and man it is... seriously making him start to fidget. Give him the Beetle's guns pointed at his head and he'd be fine, but Wally staring and trying to figure him out? Nope.]

I know names. Dad- [He pauses, and risks a quick glance towards Wally] Dad knew you. You um. You helped my grandma raise him. [He's honestly just fidgeting with the pieces of collar in his hands, not doing anything even looking like work with them anymore] His name was Don. Don Allen.

Edited (my brain exploded its 1am shhhh) 2014-09-29 08:00 (UTC)

[It's coming together, but it's forming a picture Wally neither likes nor understands. It's impossible. Time travel is impossible. Maybe he's just having an incredibly lucid dream as he lies in a coma somewhere.

...if that's true, there's no harm in the following question.]

Allen. So- so, what year is this?

[Honestly, Bart would love to believe that this is actually happening. That he's talking to the actual Wally West. He'd love to believe in time travel, but he honestly doesn't know how to hope.

The Reach might have failed with their utter subservient mind control, but they'd still done a bang up job of destroying humanity's morale.]

2056. [Finally, he looks up at Wally, and as much as he's trying to look impassive and blank, there's definite hesitation there] What kind of experiment were you and the Flash doing?

[Wally wants to laugh in Bart's face, tell him that's impossible, but then he remembers hands laying unattached to bodies on the ground and suddenly he can't find anything funny about it.] Apparently something that resulted in time travel, [he groans, dropping his head into his hands. Theoretically, time travel into the future is possible. Back to the past, however...] Either that or I'm in a coma and I'm way more disturbed than I originally thought.

Time travel... [Bart fidgets slightly] In theory, speedsters can run so fast even the laws of gravity don't effect them anymore. If you push past that the second you reach it I guess its- I mean it'd be possible. Especially since you're probably saturated in zeta radiation.

[It's probably weird that this little brat sounds like he knows what he's talking about, but that's just kind of how Bart is. Still...] You're not in a coma. I mean... I kinda wish you were. But I am real, thanks.

[Oh that Bart Allen attitude.]

Edited 2014-09-29 22:24 (UTC)

Only problem is that I can't run that fast. Uncle B can, but I'm here and he's not. [...unless-

Wally shoves himself up abruptly and his head almost bangs into the tent pole.] Unless he is.

[Bart tenses a little as Wally surges up, already braced for the untimely demise of his tent]

Or you got caught in an offshoot of energy while he was running that you couldn't avoid. Or he is, and he's probably dead already. Like you would have been if I didn't keep you from running off immediately. Or you're not really Wally West, just some idiot meat with super speed and red hair that thinks he is.

[He shuffles the metal pieces in front of him, looking back down on them with a frown] Or you're Reach, and I'm dead just for thinking about taking my collar off. And if you're that one can- ... can you just get it over with? [And stop making his heart jump at every possibility that he really, honestly is meeting his family]

You know what else we're gonna work on, along with the collars? That pessimism. [Wally has to joke because otherwise he's thinking can't go back, can't go back, Barry could be dead and I can't go back. He's starving but he doesn't dare ask for food, not with the way everything around here looks, and if he gets really desperate he can always run off and see what he can scrounge up. If there is anything. Hell, maybe he can try and improve the lives of the people here while he's at it, before he organizes some kind of grand uprising or something. That's also on the table.

First things first. Bart's collar.] Okay. So, I'm only barely acquainted with how these collars work, dunno if you're more of an expert, but the sooner we get cracking then the sooner that can come off of you. [Project. Distract himself. Wally doesn't usually go numb -he's a pretty passionate person, with big emotions and a lot of room to accommodate them- but he's doing it now. He's seen too much today.

And that deadened look on Bart's face when he asks Wally to just hurry up and kill him- and not even really joking about it- is something he wants to see even less. He barely knows the kid, but he's too young to look like that, way too young. And if he's a speedster, then he needs to be able to run.

Everything around here needs to change. This is just where he's going to start.]

It's not pessimism. [Somehow, in the midst of this conversation, despite what Bart just said he's rolling his eyes. He's looking a little less tense and he's rolling his eyes like this really is a joke.] It's what happens, here.

[He should... probably tell Wally about this time, if they're both going to subscribe to this time travel theory (a theory that makes sense the more Bart really sits down to think about it, because while Wally's mind works in chemistry and formulas Bart's works in technology and equations). He should tell Wally about the Reach, about the resistance that died before Bart was even born. He should tell Wally about Blue Beetle, about how the camps worked, about the work they did under watchful eyes, how if you stepped out of line even once you suffered for it with burning blasts and broken bones, seared skin and bleeding eardrums.

But- later. He could do that later. Right now, he can look down at the pieces of technology he's never really gotten to take a good look at.] I- ... I don't really know. I mean- [He leans forward, handing off the piece of circuitry his fidgeting had exposed] I know it works on signals- some sort of bio-electrical impulse that disrupts specific powers. [...] Maybe.

[He's actually thought a lot about his collar. But then again, in a world like this one... what else is there to really do?]

No, I think you're right. [Wally takes the piece and sinks down into a crouch across from Bart, turning it over in his hands.] I know on the older models they had sensors that went right up against your skin, but I think they were too easily tampered with. Still, I mean, you can screw up machinery with a magnet and tinfoil. There's got to be a way to disable these things easily without hurting anyone.

[As much as he doesn't want to, as much as it makes something uneasy twist and clench in his stomach, Bart perks up. He looks interested, there's a spark in his eyes and a strange determination pressing his lips together. It's a close cousin to hope, this feeling that's sparking dangerously in his chest.]

... You really think so? [He doesn't even know how long its been since he could run. Six, seven years? All he knows is its been most of his remembered life. He remembers speed like a dream, faded and scattered, like it had been happening to someone else, and he'd just been watching. A memory replaced with all his bottled and broken hopes and dreams.] You actually think you can get me out of this?

[He's careful, so careful to keep his tone incredulous and biting, but those big green eyes staring up at Wally from a tired, ash smeared face?

It's amazing, what difference a costume can make even to the most jaded and hopeless of people.]

[Wally's heart sinks down into the pit of his stomach.

I can't go home.

Even if he found a way to go home, he couldn't. Even if Barry showed up to take him back to his time, with his friends and family, his mom and dad, Robin and the team, everyone, he couldn't go. Even if something forced him home, he'd fight to come back.

Defenseless camps bombed, hopeless, scared citizens, everything that stood for goodness and hope destroyed- he can't leave this. He can't just turn his back and go. He can't help this poor kid out of his collar just to about-face and leave him to deal with this on his own. Not when his eyes are wide, when his voice is tinged with something he's unfamiliar with but to which Wally is very, very accustomed. It's the same look mothers give him when he plucks their children from the windows of a burning building, the same look bank patrons give him when he's disarming a robber. It's muted, it's squashed down and it's been throttled almost into submission, and Bart's trying so hard to fight against it, but-

He has Aunt Iris's eyes.

Wally reaches over and sets a hand on Bart's head, like how Barry did when KF went on his first run, when he took out his first criminal.] I'm going to get that thing off of you. [Somehow. It's a reckless promise to make, he has no idea if he can do it but he's going to do it. And then he's going to uncollar everyone else, and they're going to find whoever is doing this and tear them down.] And you're gonna run again.

[Bart tenses as Wally reaches his hand up, closing his eyes in a slight flinch as his cousin - his cousin, he's not sure he'll ever fully wrap his mind around that - rests it on top of his head and...

A memory. That's what it is, what it mirrors. The motion and the reassuring words, he's heard it before. Seen it before. Felt it before. He was young and terrified, heart pounding in his chest and tears stinging at his eyes. He was young and knew how to smile and loved with all his little heart and his father had come over to him and put his hand on his head, ruffled his hair and laughed and told him it would be alright and suddenly, Bart knows where he got it from. Knows who taught him those reassuring motions.

Suddenly, all Bart wants to do is reach out and cling to Wally's sleeve, to maybe push himself into his cousin's chest and shrink and let that reassuring feeling sink into him, let the safety actually take hold. Instead, all he does is open his eyes again and shift slightly so he can tighten his grip on the edges of his own jacket, so he can ground himself, so that he stays as the only person he's counting on because anything else is suicide.]

Okay. [The tired blankness is back, a security blanket Bart will cling to until he finds something that works even better - innocence and smiles, a wickedly fast tongue and an attention span as fast as he runs.] If we don't both die because of it.

[Slowly, Bart pushes himself to his feet, reaching out for the bits of collars and shoving them into the pockets of his jacket.] I need to hide these, and you should probably rest. We have to work before we get food today, and you're gonna need your energy.

[Because Bart might be skinny and without an ounce of muscle on him, but he's been working under a tyrannical, abusive regime for over half of his life. He's used to it. Wally isn't.]