The Batpoint Paradox

Haunted

*Dick

"We need Wally."

Ten minutes after Damien and I return to the BBC (Budget Batcave) Tim, wearing a resigned but determined expression, announces that he has a plan to finally fix this mess. Unfortunately, for me the whole thing hinges on the cooperation of a certain ginger speedster-the very same one I'd just unwillingly told under compulsion of the Lasso of Truth, was the person I cared for most in the world.

I had mistakenly thought that Damien's timely rescue directly after saying his name had spared me from facing the repercussions of my forced confession. Namely, that I wouldn't have to explain to the confused, scared, closeted, love of my life that his entire life is a lie. That everything he thinks he knows is wrong, that this whole reality is a twisted consequence of a plot against a man that he can't even remember anymore.

My stomach twists with dread, I have no idea what learning this information might do to him. I worry what he'll feel when confronted with the knowledge of our relationship. Because this version of Wally has spent a lifetime hiding, so deep in denial, so afraid of who he really is that he'd locked such a huge part of himself away. How hard must he constantly fight to continue to repress who he truly was, all these years spent at war with himself and why? How could my best friend, my other half, my partner for life, be so ashamed of the part of himself that let him love me? I have no desire at all to subject him, or myself to the trauma of this revelation. Telling him the truth could shatter the very foundation of his life here, it would force him to confront the demons he should've already fought a long time ago, ones I had personally helped him exile. I know that Wally, even as fast as he is, won't be able to outrun his demons just like that, not on his own, not right now. No, I would rather not subject myself to the agony of whatever kind of rejection this repressed and terrified Wally West would surely level on me. After all here, he only knows me as his friend's spoiled socialite little brother. The second Arsenal- a rookie team member, a novice crime fighter coasting off nepotism and slick playboy charm. Just lackadaisically following my adoptive brother's footsteps until the excitement and thrill wares off.

Even after hearing the truth of who we all are, I know that hearing a brief synopsis of my real life- our real life, wouldn't be nearly enough to cut through those memories he had of the other me. I imagine just looking at me after learning the truth of this all will be a struggle for him, I only hope it's not enough to deter him from helping us.

I quickly push down that doubt though, no matter what, memories, no memories, in the closet or not, I know damn well that Wallace Rudolph West, no matter the circumstances, will always do the right thing in the end. He'll deal with it and so will I, if Tim's plan works, then it will all be worth it. I can weather this final blow, stay strong for just a little while longer and finally, finally, everything will be right once again. I can handle this, I can face him now to get him back later, back where he's meant to be, here with me.

I square my shoulders and steady myself with a few deep breaths before forcing myself to meet Tim's apologetic blue eyes.

"Do what you have to Timbo, what's a little more heartache to top of the last few months we've had of it." I muster up a rueful smile I know doesn't reach my eyes before letting out a heavy sigh.

At Tim's responding nod Bart pulls out his cell, fingers moving faster than I can process across the small screen, not that it's any secret what the hyperactive little imp is doing.

Sure enough only seconds later a rush of wind sounds outside the door signaling his arrival. I meet Tim's eyes once more and convey a wordless request. Tim, understanding what I've asked despite communicating only with my eyes nods once before motioning that Bart can go get the door.