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Post by Nomz on Oct 10, 2024 17:22:07 GMT
The Hall of Justice looks almost exactly the same as the one he remembers. It is just missing some pieces that add the flavor of history to it. Like where the left stone pillar should be just a shade off. When they rebuilt it after Conner was thrown through it, they used the same stone without thinking about the color change due to age. Ollie had laughed and called it their accent pillar.
He also knows that the names of the Young Justice members are not carved into the gap between 'Of' and 'Justice.' As Wally makes his way into the building, he wonders if he can convince Clark to not say anything about it again. He knows for a fact that his Clark had to have seen it every time he came to the hall.
The doors to the hall shut silently behind him and Wally hesitates in the entranceway, swallowing back the bile in his throat. Everything about him and involving him had been erased and it only occurs to him now that his Hall didn't have 'Kid Flash' carved into it. His fingers stretch, flexing at his sides as he reminds himself that everything is alright.
His world and his world are two different worlds and that is alright. It's fine because this world is his home now and it's not going anywhere. Not without his permission.
Wally's feet unlock, moving him to where he knows the little reception desk is. He had double-confirmed with Barry on a few details to ensure he ended up in the correct place. The older man had been on the brink of asking if Wally wanted him to come with him at least 5 times. That isn't much for a Speedster, but it is still a significant number. That thought brings a little joy, a little life into his expression.
"Hey," he calls out in a warm tone. He's sporting some fancy jeans Des had 'persuaded' him into and a very faded 'Gotham Knights' t-shirt he had found in a thrift shop. He finds it funny since they are a baseball team here when they had been a football team elsewhere. "I'm Wally West. I was supposed to meet someone about getting set up."
Wally is doing everything he can not react to the fact that this Justice League has Barbara Gordon working the welcome desk.
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Post by Countess on Oct 18, 2024 0:33:43 GMT
Barbara really likes being the welcome wagon. It is a privilege, in so many ways, to be the person that does all the silly onboarding things. Yeah, the last time she had milked it a bit with Johnny, but it was worth it. Seeing him have to fill out the most pointless of paperwork, watching him sweat just a little under the pressure of boredom... it was decadent. This new guy, though, she doesn't know him in the least. Diana sang his praises, and that usually is enough for anyone else. When you have the power to pull the truth out of people like Diana does... well, you tent to trust their judgement.
".... you from Gotham?" is the first thing Barbara actually says to him. She seems a bit enthused by it, eyes on his shirt. "Small world," she says, chuckling a bit. "Yeah, Wallace, right?" she says, opening a file to glance through it. "If Diana hadn't told me your story... I'll be honest, I would have denied you joining. This history... you basically don't exist, as far as I can tell. I've already taken the liberty of getting you the credentials you would need to exist in society," Barbara says, pulling out a folder from a briefcase she has. Leaning over, she hands it to him from across the desk. Even a small perusal has a birth certificate, a driver's license, a passport, a credit score, even a social security card. Babs went all out. "That should help you get started," she says, smiling.
"I've got a bit of paperwork, then I need some blood, and we can finish out with the finale," Babs says, leaning back in her seat. "Sound good?"
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Post by Nomz on Oct 18, 2024 1:31:51 GMT
"I wasn't born there, but I know it better than I should," he replies with a quieter smile, one that promises countless stories if she asks the right questions. Wally smoothes a hand over his shirt. "Lost more bets on them than I care to admit."
His lips twist and purse as she calls him Wallace. Wally does not correct her, not yet. The last thing he wants to do is risk flustering her when she's in a position to help him. He takes the folder of items, looking through it all and smirking when he gets to his social. It is nearly correct, just a number off.
"Yeah, sounds good, and thanks for this. It's been hard getting much of anything done," Wally says while running a hand through his hair, ruffling it. "My hacking skills aren't terrible, but they aren't good enough to build all of this."
"How much do you know about me-" Wally hesitates, green eyes searching. before nearly whispering, "Batgirl?"
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Post by Countess on Oct 18, 2024 1:44:12 GMT
"So that's who I was?" Barbara asks, smiling. Yeah, it was a good time. It means there might be a Barbara out there that didn't have... that... happen. "Good. I go by Oracle these days, though," she says, just as quietly. She isn't afraid of eavesdroppers, not here.
With that, Babs stands, gathering her things. "Yeah, there is a meeting room for all the minutia, and I can get that blood sample. From there, we can get to the best part," she says, smiling at the thought of it. He might already know what it is, but she hopes he doesn't. Babs loves that look on people's faces when they get there, into space, and see the Earth and all its true smallness. It is a bit voyeuristic, but she's always been like that.
"I hope things are... a bit familiar for you," Babs says, her briefcase shut and held at her side. She takes a moment, brushing a bit of hair out of her face. "Did you know all the Bats? I can introduce you to the others if you... well, if you want to try having that again, as much as you can."
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Post by Nomz on Oct 18, 2024 3:29:44 GMT
Wally lets the topic drop, uncertain about Barbara's reaction and now terribly curious about why she goes by Oracle. He knows he will have time for questions later. He isn't going anywhere.
"Can I ask why you need a blood sample," he asks with naked curiosity. While they had done plenty of odd things in his world, he doesn't remember needing to offer his blood for any of it. The Boom Tubes didn't have such a requirement. "You're not secretly a witch and gonna bind me to your will, are you? Is this like Dragon Age and you're gonna make a Phylactery to track me down with?"
He scuffs his vans against the floor as she speaks, chewing the inside of his cheek. "It is very familiar and yet skewed to the right." Wally waits for the words to come to him, tucking a hand in his pocket and holding his folder to his chest like a clipboard. "Let's just say Alfred's cookies are the best, yeah? Nightwing was my best friend for almost my whole life. We dated for a while when we were teens in the Young Justice."
Ah, Babs has asked a good question.
"When Flash saved me, he was the first person I ran to. It was with him that I realized no one else remembered. I...don't know if I am ready to look him in the eyes and have to introduce myself." He says all of this with a rather even tone as if it is something he's already resigned himself to having to do at some point. "I think this-" he pauses to gesture between them, "Is easier for me."
"Oh." Wally has a happy, proud grin. "Batman once told me I did 'good work.' Which was crazy. I think it was because I handle the hero thing a bit differently than even Flash."
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Post by Countess on Nov 11, 2024 13:36:10 GMT
"You can ask, sure," Barbara says, letting that hang there for a moment as she looks at him with a touch of humor. He should know better than that- she's a Bat. Finally, she laughs, and says, "We use a bit of magic- warding and the like- the blood will mark you as someone allowed through and whatnot," she explains, just amused with herself and her teasing. She wonders if his Barbara is like this, too. If so, he should be used to this. "Nothing like Dragon Age, no one is going to use blood magic on you," she says, grinning.
Barbara finds herself interested in Wally's answers, absorbing them. She wonders if he will let her pick his brain, see if there are any interesting tidbits she could learn from his universe and apply it to this one. There is a surprise, however... and it makes her distant. "Well... we have that in common," she says, looking away from him as they walk through empty halls. "Was he at least good to you?" she asks, a touch of bitterness in her tone. There is tea and hurt there, surely, if Wally wants to pry.
"Maybe it is for the best," Barbara says. "Let it happen when you are ready, no need to force anything. Though- if you are going to be spending time with me, it means you will eventually be spending time with the youngest bat," she says, careful not to say who she is talking about specifically. She wants to know more about what Wally actually knows, rather than just blurt it all out.
"Good work?" Barbara asks, then laughs. "You might as well have been adopted, damn," she says, sharing in the mirth.
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Post by Nomz on Nov 11, 2024 22:10:09 GMT
Wally tips his head up a little, trying to think of the best way to explain what and who his Nightwing had been. "We were kids. We tried. We both could have been better and I certainly did not know enough to be able to support him. Not in the way he needed. We grew apart enough that it became clear we should only be friends."
"He dated Kori after he dated me and-" Wally frowns, the first trace of something bleak in his tone. "Terrible things were done to him and no one wanted to believe him because he 'is a man.' I found out too late and he had shut down by then. He closed us all out. Dick disappeared in favor of Nightwing and only Nightwing."
The speedster rubs the back of his neck, eyes far away. "He tried. He wasn't the best, but none of us are. All any of us can do is try." He isn't sure if the answer was the right thing to say. He isn't sure of many things since he's come to this universe, but all he can do is try.
"Youngest bat?" There is the briefest second as he does the mental math and comes to an answer he thinks fits. "Is your youngest bat a stabby teen with green eyes and a grimace that could put Bats to shame? If so, I don't mind making a new impression. Last time I met him had been when he was falling from a building and I made the grave error of catching him in a bridal carry."
His arms come up to mimic the pose as his face lights up with laughter.
"Arsenal, the asshole, thought the whole thing was the funniest situation to happen that week. Absolutely no help, that guy. I should have made him eat his Speedy Hat." Wally says it all rather fondly like it is one of several happy memories tucked into a beloved scrapbook. He entirely fails to mention that it was the 'I've got you little guy' line that made the young Wayne attack.
"Don't even get me started on the name 'Speedy' for an archer. I was right there. Add in that we both have red hair and the whole thing was a nightmare." He waits a moment before circling back and he carefully leaves his voice soft and full of midwestern twang. "Is...what is your Dick like? What are you like?"
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Post by Countess on Nov 11, 2024 23:45:51 GMT
Barbara feels the ice cold finger of horror going down her spine. "Was- was it the Joker?" she asks, stopping in her tracks as she looks to Wally. God- there are infinite universes, surely it is true somewhere, infinitely, but- she doesn't want- to think he might- as much as she does not like him, she would never-
Her thoughts continue like this, a loop she cannot quite stop. Her breaths get deeper, heavier. In being worried about something happening to this other Dick, she is confronting her own wounds, ones that have not healed and are festering. "He wouldn't-" Babs starts, but can't get more words out as she gulps deep breaths of air almost in sobs. No- not here- not now- But no, it is coiled in her belly like a rot she can't get rid of. Her hands get cold, clenching and unclenching as she starts to shake. Poor Wally, he is still chatting happily and she can't get out of the past.
"Please stop," she says, words choked out. Flashes of light make her flinch, taking steps backwards. She tries all the usual things, trying to ground herself but she knows it is too late. That doom is settling on her again, knowing this is it, this is how she dies. Carefully, with shaking hands, she tries to open her briefcase. There are pills there, pills for this exactly.
Barbara can't get her hands to work as she puts her back to a wall, sliding down it. Everything seems so close and so far away all at once. Everything is wrong, unreal, and her soul threatens to slip out of her skin into the ether. "Wally- pills-" she gets out. He is fast- he can be fast- he can outrun her panic.
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Post by Nomz on Nov 12, 2024 0:45:29 GMT
Her words are like ice, the gripping cold of Gentleman Ghost's touch on his skin. Wally turns to Barbara, watching in confusion turning realization as she steps backwards and into a wall. He notes the panic in her expression, the fear, and the haunted look of someone who isn't quite with him. It is awfully familiar. All that's missing are tanned hands clawing at dark hair, and wild blue eyes begging for help and demanding he stay back.
Wally does not immediately run to her side, afraid that something he did or said triggered this reaction and not wanting to cause more damage. Not like last time. He watches as her hands struggle with her briefcase and he waits for the sign- the signal- permission to help.
Time around him slows down until it stops. Trembling hands card through his hair as he pushes back his own emotions, his memories of Dick and then Donna in this same position. He blinks back tears, taking a deep breath as he runs up to where he knows there is a sink and he has a cup he found in the tiny kitchenette. He sets it down on the floor when he returns to Barbara. With movement gentle due to their speed difference, he opens her briefcase and retrieves her pills.
He places the correct amount in his hand, puts her briefcase back where it had been, and gathers her glace. Wally steps back to where he had been standing and the world runs around him again.
"Hey, Babs," he calls softly and he walks over to her at a human quick pace. Wally crouches down next to her, showing her pills in his open palm. It's the correct dosage per the script on the bottle. "I've got your pills and water."
He offers both to her rather than trying to feed her. He won't make this worse. He can't afford to make it worse.
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Post by Countess on Nov 12, 2024 1:02:45 GMT
Barbara’s chest tightens, the first sensation a dull, creeping pressure. It feels like someone is squeezing the air right out of her lungs, and she can’t breathe—really breathe. Her throat constricts, making it harder to catch a full breath, and with each shallow intake, the panic swells. The room starts to blur at the edges, and the sounds around her become muffled, distant. She feels as though she’s trapped in her own body, unable to escape the tightening vice in her chest.
Her heart begins to race, and she’s sure it’s beating too fast, too hard—pounding against her ribs like it might break free. Her palms go clammy, and she can feel a cold sweat prickling along the back of her neck. There’s a tingling in her fingertips, and her hands start to shake, even as her legs feel like they might give way beneath her. She needs to sit down. She needs to breathe. She can’t breathe.
The air feels thick, suffocating, and Barbara tries to take control, tries to focus—but her mind spins, her thoughts scatter, a relentless storm of what ifs and irrational fears. What if she’s going to pass out? What if she’s dying? What if she’s losing control and nobody notices? The world feels impossibly large, and yet, she’s so small—so trapped in the panic she can’t escape.
Her vision blurs, black spots beginning to dance in her periphery. Her mouth is dry, her body trembling like a leaf in a storm, every muscle wound too tight, too fragile. The heat in her body spikes and then dips into a cold chill, and she wants to run—but she doesn’t know where. She doesn’t know how to get out.
She tries to steady her breathing—inhale, exhale, slow down—but the rhythm doesn’t come. It’s just gasps and jagged breaths, and the more she tries, the worse it feels. She’s drowning in air, suffocating, unable to break the cycle.
Please. It has to stop.
Her thoughts blur, fading between panic and reality, between the sharpness of the moment and the terror that swarms her. She wants to scream, but her throat is tight. She wants to make it stop, to find some way out of her own skin, but there’s nothing she can do.
I’m not dying. I’m not dying. I’m not…
It’s the mantra she clings to, over and over, as her body fights to regain some semblance of control. The moment Wally is there with water and her pills, she takes it all greedily and sloppily. She hates this, hates feeling like this, hates being seen like this. How is she supposed to function? How is she supposed to do her job? How is she supposed to be herself?
The tremors in Barbara’s hands start to ease, but her heart is still racing, the echo of her panic reverberating through her chest. It’s like the storm inside her isn’t quite over yet, but the worst of it is starting to fade, retreating like the tide pulling back from the shore.
Wally’s voice is gentle, calm—like a lifeline in the fog of her panic. She doesn’t quite focus on the words, but the tone soothes her, somehow grounding her as she takes the pill from his steady hand. It’s small, unremarkable, but it feels like a promise—a signal that she’s doing something to help herself, even if it’s just for a moment. She swallows the pill dry, but Wally’s quick to offer her a glass of water. The coldness of the water is a relief as it slides down her throat, and it helps clear the dry, sticky feeling that’s settled there. She sips slowly, deliberately, as though each swallow is a small act of taking control, of pushing the panic further away.
The worst of the dizziness starts to lift. The tingling in her fingers begins to fade, and the tightness in her chest loosens just a little, like the knot that’s been pulling everything so tightly together is finally starting to unravel. She takes a deeper breath, trying to fill her lungs without feeling like they’re constricting around her. It’s not easy, and she’s still jittery, but the sharpness of her fear begins to dull, like the edges of a knife being slowly ground down.
Wally’s presence is steadying, his quiet confidence a calm contrast to the storm she’s just been through. She can still feel the echoes of her panic, like an aftershock, but it’s no longer the tidal wave of terror it was. Slowly, the world starts to feel more solid again, the spinning edges of her vision settling into focus. The pulse in her neck begins to slow, the wild beat of her heart finding a rhythm again.
There’s a tightness in her throat as she exhales, the weight of the attack still lingering but softened. She looks up at Wally, the smallest flicker of gratitude behind her eyes. She’s not okay yet, but the worst is behind her. Slowly, piece by piece, she’s coming down.
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Post by Nomz on Nov 12, 2024 4:13:01 GMT
Wally keeps talking in the same steady, soothing voice he is used it. Usually, he knew more to go off of- something to help his friends come back down. He doesn't know what triggered Barbara, or what topics to stay away from. Instead, Wally describes what he sees happening around them.
"This building is washed out in just about every universe I've been to. We get it, the white on white evokes a certain emotion that borders on awe, but the way it makes my eyes water after a long night shift."
He is slow and calm.
"I will admit the view out the front windows is something I can stare at for a few hours a day. More so when you calculate for the way the sun has nothing blocking its path. Not like when you're further into the city itself."
His tone is gentle.
"You know, I once stood here and argued with stabby Robin about the exact shade of white they used for the ceiling. He was so smug when I unfortunately proved he was correct. Guy did not let that go for months."
He is steady.
His words come to a halt as he notices she's looking up at him and she sees him. He tips his head in acknowledgment, confirming that he sees her too and that he's not going anywhere until she's ready. There's no pity in his expression, just simple relief that she's coming back down.
Wally's lips twitch just a little, "How hard do you think it would be to convince your Arsenal to eat his Speedy hat? I almost talked mine into it once but the fun police showed up and escorted me out. The fun police being Dinah and Ollie."
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Post by Countess on Nov 12, 2024 4:32:28 GMT
Barbara’s breathing is still unsteady, her chest rising and falling in sharp, shallow bursts. She’s quiet for a moment, processing Wally’s words, letting the calm rhythm of his voice gently brush away the lingering panic. She slowly glances up at him, her eyes a little glassy, but not as lost as they were moments ago. There's a faint, almost imperceptible nod from her, the acknowledgment that she’s heard him, that she’s trying to keep herself together.
Wally's presence, his steady, familiar tone, is a new grounding force for her—no words of judgment, no rush to fix things. He doesn't know her, not really. Something about that makes it... real.
A slow exhale escapes her lips, and she offers a tiny, almost wry smile as her hands rest at her sides, the tension in her shoulders loosening bit by bit. The weight in her chest still lingers, but the panic is no longer clawing at her throat.
"Arsenal, huh?" Her voice is soft but carries a flicker of humor, her mind grasping for something light, something normal. "I don’t know, Wally. That sounds like a public service announcement waiting to happen. 'The dangers of extreme fashion choices and the people who wear them.'"
She pauses, chewing on the last of the thought, still caught somewhere between the remnants of panic and the sharp edge of her usual wit. "I think Ollie might have more fun eating his own hat, to be honest. Dinah would never let him live that down."
A beat. Another breath.
The tension has dissipated enough that she can form full sentences, can hold on to the thread of the conversation, but she’s still carefully watching Wally, gauging the trust he’s given her. She knows he's not going anywhere. And in this moment, that’s enough.
"Thanks... for staying."
It’s a simple phrase, but the sincerity behind it is palpable. She’s not used to being vulnerable, but she’s beginning to realize she’s not alone, and that’s a small relief she didn’t know she needed.
Another quiet moment lingers between them, comfortable, but not quite silent, as she pulls herself more fully out of the panic that had engulfed her.
"Maybe I’ll pass on the hat-eating for now. But next time Arsenal starts talking about his ‘grand plans,’ I might suggest we switch to a snack. Just in case," Bans says. A small smirk tugs at the corner of her lips, finding her balance once more.
Wally doesn’t need to say anything, but his smile—small and knowing—lets her know that whatever happens next, they’re in this together. She didn't expect it- not in the least. "I think we just... you know. Defeated a troll."
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Post by Nomz on Nov 12, 2024 4:48:07 GMT
Wally chuckles slow and soft, his timbre deep, warm, and genuine. There's the faint trace of laugh lines as he listens to her. "Well, I wouldn't mind seeing that. Why not do a mentor/mentee moment of them eating the other's hat? 'The Dangers of Peer Pressure and Twenty Dollars.'"
"You're welcome. I'll be here anytime you want me," he says in a way that just feels like he means it. Probably because he does. He's also careful to state that it is only if she wants him.
He lets the silence rest around them, eyes pinned on the sunlight outside. This is comfortable for him. Despite being a Speedster, he no longer has the need to run everywhere he goes. Rather, he would prefer to sit and watch the world move around him.
"A troll? Okay Heromine," he smirks at her, teasing lightly. "As long as I don't have to be Ron, we're good. Well, I'll be Ron as long as I'm not movie Ron. They did him so wrong in the movies. Like, let my man live a little." He pauses, thinking out loud, "But who is our Harry? It's not Roy, right? Tell me it's not Roy. I'll eat the Speedy hat if it's Roy."
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Post by Countess on Nov 13, 2024 0:05:38 GMT
Barbara smiles softly at Wally’s easy laugh, finding comfort in the cadence of his voice. It’s a welcome anchor—something solid to hold onto as the storm in her mind settles. Wally’s presence isn’t overwhelming, just steady, and that's exactly what she needs. She chuckles in return, the sound light and genuine, but still laced with the remnants of her tension.
"I think Roy might actually eat the hat if it meant getting one over on me. Though, I'd prefer if it wasn’t him. Maybe we should just stick to the two of us eating hats for the greater good," she teases, her voice a little more playful now. The thought of a goofy mentorship moment with Wally is oddly comforting, grounding her back into the here and now.
She shifts, looking out the window, her gaze catching on the way the sunlight dances across the city. It’s a strange feeling, like being in a dream where the world moves slower but still feels so vividly real. Her breathing has slowed, but the weight in her chest hasn’t entirely lifted, though she feels a little more like herself with each word exchanged. Wally has this way of making things feel lighter, as if he just gets it—the way trauma lingers, the way some days are harder than others, and the way jokes can help patch up what words can't fully heal.
Barbara can’t help but roll her eyes at the mention of Roy, but her lips curl into a grin. “It’s not Roy. I think I’d rather be the one to eat the hat if that were the case,” she jokes, though there’s a quiet affection in her tone for her team, for the ridiculousness of it all.
She lets the silence linger for a moment, comfortable in its weight. No rush. No expectations. Just the soft hum of the world continuing around them as the sun filters in, casting long shadows against the floor.
"Alright, if you’re Ron, then I guess I’ll be Hermione. But, you have to promise me no one is wearing those ridiculous dress robes at the Yule Ball," she says with a grin. “We’ll have to change the whole plotline if that’s the case. And, yes, I’m in charge. I’m the boss of this version of our little world. You’ve been warned.”
The warmth from the sunlight begins to seep deeper into her bones, and for the first time in a while, the world feels just a little bit more like it’s within her control.
"As for Harry... we will have to do try outs," she says, thinking on it, slowing standing up on nervous legs. She starts to get a little more somber. What triggered all of this... she gulps. "..... who hurt Dick, Wally? In your world? Cause the Joker hurt me in this one. That's... just the thought of someone else..." she says, looking away in a bit of shame. "I had been thankful it hadn't happened to me in your world. Never considered it happening to someone else..."
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Post by Nomz on Nov 13, 2024 0:40:08 GMT
Each little tease and word back feels like a victory, and they warm his heart in a way he is no longer familiar with. Wally never leaves the space he's occupied at her side, unwilling and uncertain if he should. She has done nothing to imply she wants him to do so, and that makes him incredibly happy. This meeting isn't like the one with Barry.
His emotions had been completely encompassing and the line between this Barry and his Barry is unrecognizable. To Wally, he can't see the difference and he knows that is not fair. But Barbara?
"I'll have you know, those ridiculous dress robes have been passed down in my family for at least two generations," he snarks, trying and failing for mock offense. Wally runs a hand down the front of his Gotham Knights sweater as if they are magical dress robes and he tips his head up a little. "If you insist, I suppose I can be convinced to wear something more...modern."
No, these feelings with Barbara are so entirely hers. The Batgirl from his universe and him had never been close. In many ways, the woman in front of him is his Barbara. His only one.
"I automatically disqualify Batman," he says with a hand raised as if being sworn into before a judge. Wally follows her up as she stands, not offering a hand but still being nearby if she decides she wants it. Her question sends his smile to the back and his expression grows serious.
"Joker got his hands on Jay and Tim, but it wasn't like that." Wally rubs the back of his neck, glancing back out at the sunlight but not really seeing it. His words come soft and slow. "The first pretended to be Kori and it became this scandal. They all insisted he cheated, that he knew, that he should have known."
"That wasn't fair. Her metapower was literally shapeshifting. The second-" He sighs and turns back to Barbara. "He thought he was teaching her to be a hero, but she killed people. In the middle of a panic attack she- Well. That one broke him."
Wally swallows, wetting his lips. It's clear that he carries pain and blame from that despite it not being his to bear. The regret of not being able to help, of being too late even when he's so fast.
"Stabby Robin was the best thing for him. Batman disappeared, assumed dead. Dick took up the mantle and made Stabby his Robin. It was slow at first, but, they found what they were missing in each other. Somewhere past all the knives, the kid has a soft heart in there."
He doesn't say it, but there is a fondness there.
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