All about Flinx

one of you

“Don’t, Wally,” Jinx said softly as she unlocked the door instead of letting him vibrate them through it. “Just don’t. Please.”

He followed her into the darkened apartment, not even blinking as she steered herself blindly to the bedroom, then through it to the bathroom. The door was closed and locked before he’d even locked the front door, something that was rare for the young man who once known as Kid Flash. Kid, no longer, he was already assuming the mantel of the Flash from his uncle with a near open invitation to join the Justice League the moment he tired of work as a Titan.

He wouldn’t, Wally knew, not without Jinx, and there wasn’t an invitation for her. Yet. If he had his way she’d be one of the most honored heroes, a girl who turned away from an easy life of crime and joined him in the fight against it. If he had his way.

He bent his head to the side for a moment, letting the vertebrae there snap once, then twice, before straightening up and peeling the mask back from his face to flop loosely behind his shoulders. The water was running as he followed the faint glow that was now creeping from beneath the closed door.

He stopped at it and laid a hand against it, then his forehead, eyes closed in defeat. “Jinx.”

Her name was near whispered, but he knew she would hear simply by virtue of him not wanting her to. It was her charm, her magic, the reason why she was locked inside the bathroom. And crying. He hated to think it but Wally knew better. The water was running but there was no splashing, no sound of it hitting her pale skin or even running across anything but the smooth porcelain of the sink. It was there for nothing other than to hide the faint sniffles, the quiet sobs.

He hated the water. He hated that she was crying. He hated that he was the reason she was crying.

“Go away, Wally, I don’t want to talk to you.” Muffled, but not angry, and he closed his eyes, willing his body to move faster and faster until the molecules of it and the door were one and then none, he once again solid on the other side of the door.

“Jinx, I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

She looked up at him, wide eyes pink and red, and Wally’s heart tightened at the sight of wet cheeks. “I can’t do this anymore, Wally. It’s not fair to ask me to.”

He didn’t say anything as he dropped to his knees in front of her, one hand finding its way to the soft cascade of pale pink hair and brushing it back from her face, the other to the blistered and near bleeding circlet of raw flesh around one wrist. Without a word he reached for the washcloth she had already laid on the counter next to the sink, slipping it under the warm water and wetting it before pressing it to the weeping wound at her wrist.

Jinx breathed in sharply and Wally steeled himself at the teardrop that fell on his hand. “I’m sorry, Jinx. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“You never do,” she whispered bitterly as she tugged her arm from his hands, the washcloth dropping down to the floor as Wally rocked back onto his heels, staring up at her with his clear blue eyes, worried. “You don’t mean for this to happen, but that doesn’t change that it does.”

She sucked in a shuddering breath before covering her face with her hands. The words that she’d been thinking for so long, so damned long, bubbling up and spilling out before she could stop them. Before she thought about stopping them. Before she realized that she didn’t want to stop them anymore.

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be one of you; it’s impossible.”

“Don’t say that,” he breathed, and she jerked back from the hands that were suddenly covering her own and pulling them away from her face.