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It started on Bart's birthday.
(Which was a totally crash concept, by the way. His mom and dad and Aunt Dawn had told him about how birthdays used to be celebrated, and they'd done a toned down version when he was younger, but he'd never really believed them. And then he'd gotten to the past and had seen it- and Bart really wanted to celebrate his.)
He hadn't told anyone it was coming up. Really, he had more important things to be doing, stopping the apocalypse and all. But he was benched after he'd broken his leg on a mission.
(He didn't really understand that. It was already almost all the way healed by the time the mission was over, but Grandpa Barry had insisted.)
And Jay and Joan were out for the weekend, Grandpa Barry and Grandma Iris were at work, and Wally was out with the entire team for another mission, so Mount Justice was completely empty and really it was a crime if Bart didn't come use the kitchen-
He'd never made a cake before. He'd... never cooked anything before, really.
Bart did have the Internet though. (Again, totally crash. Nothing like that existed in the future. It was so useful!) He did a little research, watched a couple videos on two-times speed, and Bart was pretty confident he could make an awesome cake. He had all the stuff, so now he just had to actually do it. Easy enough.
Except Bart found himself standing in the hallway staring into the empty kitchen, unable to move.
He couldn't breathe. His lungs moved, but the air wouldn't move past his throat, completely stuck there. He was completely stuck there. He jerked, crouching against the wall, his t-shirt scraping the rough stone. His breath was coming again, but now it was too fast, and somehow, despite his whole state of being, it wasn't better. Bart clutched at his head, fingers digging into his scalp.
Was he dying? Was this some unforseen effect of time travelling? He certainly felt like he was dying. His heart beat too fast in his chest, pounding against his ribs.
Think. He needed to think. What had he been doing? Was this the Reach? Was this a part of their plan? Had they always known he'd come back one day? He couldn't think. Nausea rose in his throat. His vision swam. And he still couldn't breathe.
He tried to focus his eyesight. And... there, on the ground a few feet away was a plastic container of sprinkles. Because he was going to make himself a birthday cake, to celebrate his fourteenth birthday. He was in the mountain.There were no Reach soldiers hunting him down, no ash burning his tongue or eyes. He was in the past. The apocalypse hadn't happened, and it wasn't going to happen, because he was going to stop it. The future he knew was never going to happen.
Bart sucked in a full breath of air and started coughing. He felt uncomfortably small against the cave wall, but at least he could breathe again. Bart liked breathing.
He stood up, rubbing his wet eyes. Then, he slowly picked up his grocery bags of ingredients. He wasn't hungry. But it would be a waste to not use all the stuff, and he was sure someone else on the team would enjoy the cake.
He'd just leave off the candles.
~~~
Bart hadn't expected it to happen again.
He was fine, really. He'd done a bunch of tests and had determined it wasn't a time travel thing. Clearly, it had just been a fluke. Something weird in the mountain air. Something one and done, never to happen again.
Except it did. During dinner with his family, no less.
It was one of those rare weekends when no one was busy. No work to do, no league business, no team missions. Grandma Iris decided to celebrate with a family dinner, which sounded totally crash. Bart had never been to one of those. (He had got some weird looks when he'd said that though, so Bart had quickly decided to shut up.)
The speedsters had been banned to the living room while Iris and Joan cooked, citing something about Wally eating everything before it was even done once, which made the older teen go redder than a firetruck and caused Grandpa Barry to laugh so hard he started coughing. (Bart really wanted to hear that story now.)
He sat on the couch, drumming his fingers against his legs until they blurred. He had no idea how Barry and Wally could sit so still. Bart always felt jittery unless he was using his powers. (He knew all too well what it was like without them.)
They sat in relative silence. Wally was scrolling on his phone. Barry and Jay were talking quietly to each other. And Bart was drumming.
(Maybe he should see about getting a drumset. He'd seen one once, on a supply run when he was younger. He hadn't been allowed to touch it. Too much noise was a never a good idea, and unfortunatly, noise was the one thing Bart was good at.)
His hands froze mid tap on his knees. A chill passed through him, making him shiver and half close his eyes, meaning he didn't see as Wally peered at him over his phone, green eyes narrowed.
Bart was so cold. He didn't know why. Just a moment ago he'd been nice and warm. Now he was freezing, and he couldn't stop shivering. And it wasn't even the fun shivering and vibrating that came with his powers. This was almost painful. Or maybe it was his lungs, and the fact that air wasn't going in right-
He choked on his breath. He knew this feeling. It had happened before. It wasn't supposed to happen again!
Like it had been waiting for his brain to catch up, his heart started to jackrabbit in his chest. Bart was suddenly uncomfortably aware of his family all in the room with him. He couldn't freak out in front of them. He had to cut this off before it started.
He clenched his fingers around the cuffs of his shorts and focused on steadying his breath. His chest was rattling and he was still shaking. His mind was trying to run off. Bart wouldn't let it. He breathed in through his nose. Out through his mouth.
He was fine. He was okay.
And then Wally got up from the armchair and walked over to him.
"Bart? Are you okay?"
Bart froze.
He was fine. He was perfectly fine thank you there was no need to look closer no reason to worry because Bart Allen was doing perfectly fine
Wally repeated the question. Bart tore his eyes away from where they'd been frozen staring at his still hands. Barry and Jay had stopped talking, and were looking over at him.
Bart needed to do damage control, and fast.
(He was good at fast.)
He ripped his hands off his legs and started to tap his foot. He plastered a smile on his face. "Hmm? Oh I'm totally crash! Got lost in thought for a moment, y'know how it is."
Was his foot tapping too frantic? He could write it off as him just being hungry. No one would look too closely at that excuse.
Wally still looked concerned. His eyes searched Bart's face. Bart kept his easy smile, and Wally eventually looked away.
He was good. He was safe.
His breath might've been just a tiny bit too fast, but that didn't matter once Iris and Joan called them in for dinner. He just had to focus on stuffing his face full of food. His heart would calm down eventually.
He was fine.
~~~
Now, Bart didn't mean to get kidnapped.
Really, he didn't. Missions were dangerous! And this one had just managed to turn from normal dangerous to we've been caught dangerous. At least Bart was the only one who'd been caught. He'd managed to help everyone else get out. They'd got lucky, managing to knock him unconscious.
When he woke up, he was barely even handcuffed. He was in some sort of vehicle though, judging by how the ground was rumbling under him. There was also a hand firmly on his shoulder, pressing him down. Clearly these kidnappers wanted a more hands-on approach.
They didn't know he was awake. He could probably escape. But they didn't know who these gang members were working for, that had been the whole reason for their mission. Bart was in the perfect place for some intel gathering. It wasn't like the thugs could actually hurt him.
(Nothing they could do to him would be worse than what the Reach had already done.)
So he kept his eyes closed. The team could get mad at him later. Right now he had to focus on staying as still as he possibly could. Bart hated keeping still when he could be moving, but it was a necessary evil for the mission.
He hoped it wasn't a long car ride.
(Then again, he didn't know how long he was unconscious. He hoped it wasn't longer than thirty minutes.)
The thugs were being uncharacteristically quiet for hired muscle. It didn't make Bart nervous, because Bart didn't get nervous, but it did make him wonder if there was something... bigger going on.
The vehicle went over a rough patch of road, jolting the floor. The movement slammed his head up and back down hard on the metal. Bart choked down a pained cry, nearly biting his tongue. Something must have happened earlier. This was not a normal hit.
One of the thugs laughed. At least someone was having a good time.
Another shushed him. The first thug grunted.
"It's not like he can hear us. He's out cold." His voice was deep and gruff, a touch raspy, like he'd been smoking several packs of cigarettes. It wasn't a voice Bart recognized.
"Boss said we shouldn't talk." This thug had an accent, something northern. "Don't know if he's got some kinda listening device or some shit."
Bart's eyebrows furrowed minutely before he smoothed them out. His kidnappers hand't even searched him? They hadn't taken his gear?
There was definitely something going on, and Bart didn't like it one bit.
The first thug grunted again. And the vehicle once again fell silent.
(Bart really didn't like silence either.)
He had no idea how long he laid there. His head was pounding more than normal. He didn't know why his healing factor was being slower than normal. And then, the vehicle stopped.
Bart jerked. The hand on his shoulder finally released, and loud, thumping footsteps echoed through the small space. A door creaked open. He kept his eyes closed still, breathing through his nose, listening.
"Yeah, he's still out. Drugs definitely worked."
Okay, so he was drugged. Good to know. Explained why his healing factor was being weird too.
(It did put Bart a little on edge though. If these guys had drugs that worked on speedsters, what else did they have?)
"No, no one on his team saw us. We wouldn't have been able to get this far if they had."
At least these guys were self aware. There was no way his team hadn't seen though. They had to be biding their time as well, which was good. That worked with Bart's plan.
"Yes I'm sure!"
There were footsteps. Were the guys walking away? Sure, they thought Bart was unconscious, but that went against kidnapping 101. Never leave your charge alone. (Especially if they were a superhero.)
Maybe it was time to get out of this. The team was probably getting worried.
"You got it?"
Voices, much closer than before. A new person walking over, not someone leaving, got it. Bart was really missing sight.
"Yup. He'll be no trouble at all."
Okay, definitely time to crash this joint. Bart did not want to be drugged again.
The drug must have been more effective than he'd realized though, because hands were on him before he could move. His eyes jerked open. It was too late. Something was placed around his neck.
Bart moved.
His vision was blurred. He couldn't see, but it didn't matter, he had to get away, had to go, had to run- There was something heavy around his neck. It wasn't hands. It was metal, and it was familiar.
Bart couldn't breathe.
Shouting. Everyone was shouting. Was Bart included in that? He didn't know. He couldn't tell. He had to get away-
Electricity coursed through him and Bart seized.
He was out before he hit the truck's metal floor.
~~~
He woke up to the sound of incessant beeping. It was shrill, and too high pitched to be his alarm clock. Bart blearily blinked open his eyes, fighting the resistance. He squinted.
He definitely wasn't in his room. Wherever he was was dark. he could barely see, even when he squinted. His mouth was dry. He shifted- or at least he tried to. His arms were chained above his head, leaving him haning.
(How had he not noticed that before? He tried to think, only to be met with staticy fuzz, his mind trudging through fog. He remembered... drugs? Had he been drugged? That would make sense.)
The chains rattled as he moved his hands, trying to get a feel for his restraints. The beeping was starting to give him a headache, piercing through the fuzz.
Then suddenly it stopped, and Bart screamed as he was shocked.
The electricity cut off as quickly as it had started, leaving Bart panting and trying to catch his breath. At least he could think now, even through his mounting panic. They'd gotten an inhibitor collar on him.
A low chuckle came from across the room. "So you can speak. I was starting to worry the drugs had done more than I'd hoped."
Bart forced his head up.
Across the dim room, lounging in a chair, was a woman, staring right back at him. She was dressed in a suit, dangling a familiar remote from her hand. She had blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun, and sunglasses, despite the dark room.
Bart didn't recognize her at all.
She say up out of her relaxed position. Bart could feel her eyes on him even with them being covered. His skin prickled uncomfortably, but he kept his own unblinking gaze trained on her.
Her lips quirked. "Hello Impulse."
She stood up, dropping the remote. It hung by her waist, attached to her wrist with a black cord. He didn't feel better that she dropped it.
It just meant she had alternative ways of getting what she wanted.
"I have a few questions for you," she said easily. She'd crossed the room in no time at all, looking down at him with a smirk on her face. Her glasses were mirrored- Bart could see his own face staring back at him. His lip was split. he hadn't even noticed the pain due to everything else. He ran his tongue over it.
"I'm not really in the habit of answering people who chain me up." Bart winced at the rough sound of his voice. The collar really wasn't helping matters. He hadn't even had the misfortune of seeing one since he'd gone back to the past. Of course his first encounter was one being put on him.
Focus, Bart.
Irritation twitched on her face before she smoothed out her features. Her finger brushed over the remote. Bart flinched despite himself.
"We can do this the easy way," she said. "Just a few questions."
"And then what? You'll let me go? Cause somehow, I really doubt it."
Faster than a snake, she grabbed his jaw and squeezed. Her nails dug into his skin, but he refused to let his wince show.
(Bart was done being scared. He'd been held by beings a hell of a lot more terrifying than this woman.)
"Tell me about the Flash," she spat. "His skills. Weaknesses."
Bart laughed out loud.
The hand across his face didn't suprise him. It was how much it hurt that did. He'd gotten so used to near instant healing that he'd forgotten what it felt like to be normal. He licked his lips, tasting the blood from his reopened split one.
"Kid Flash then. Tell me about him."
This woman really couldn't tell he wasn't budging? She gripped his jaw again, and Bart spat blood right in her face. It splattered across her mirrored lenses, and she released him, shocked. He smirked.
Her fist slammed into his gut, and he doubled back, coughing. He didn't get a moment's break before it came again, and then again onto the side of his face. Bart wheezed, hanging limp from the chains.
The woman laughed. "Not so tough now, huh."
She punched his face again. Bart's head spun.
She backed away and sneered. "I'll be back later. Hopefully you'll be more up to talking."
Bart huffed. "Not... likely..."
She paused, and a second later, electricity came. Bart was out before he could feel the pain.
~~~
A loud boom startled him awake. Bart was really getting tired of waking up like this. His eyes snapped open, and he scanned around the dingy room. Nothing. Everything interesting must have been happening on the upper levels.
He shifted slightly. The inhibitor collar dug sharply into his neck. Bart winced and quickly moved back to how he was.
Another loud boom. An explosion? Bart shivered, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. The combination of the explosions and the collar were not doing wonders for his current mental state. Everything was feeling way too close to the apocalypse for comfort.
A third explosion. Bart focused on his breathing, in and out despite the sharp pains in his chest. (They weren't a good sign.) In and out. Loud thumping footsteps from above. In and out.
A door creaked open, and light flooded the dark basement room.
Bart let his chin fall to his chest. They'd made it.
Robin was the one who held him as they got him down, the feel of Tim's gloves familiar against his suit. He thinks it was Nightwing with him. The fuzziness was back, eating away at the edges of his vision. Hands touched the collar, and Bart buckled. He couldn't let anyone touch it, if they tried to take it off the Reach would know and the shocks would be so much worse, the last time he'd tried he'd thought he was dead-
"-art! Bart can you hear me?"
There were hands on his shoulders and all Bart could hear was a high pitched whine. He was shaking, the fasted he could go without his powers.
"I don't think he knows what's happening-"
"Call the Flash-"
"I can'-"
"-need to knock him out-"
"-safe?"
He was moving, though not by his own design. Someone was carrying him, and Bart couldn't do anything about it. He was exhausted, but he couldn't fall asleep, because whoever was holding him was jostling him around. All he could hear was that high pitched whine, and Bart realized with a start that it was coming from him.
The movement stopped for a second as he was handed off to someone else. A soft voice whispered, "Sorry Bart," and he was knocked out again.
~~~
Bart had never been happier to wake up and know where he was.
He blinked his eyes open slowly, the familiar sights of the Mount Justice infirmary fading in around him. He was lying on one of the wheelable cots, an iv attached to his left arm. Bart stared at it for a second. He breathed.
His neck was bare. He could feel the familiar thrum of his speed under his skin, filling him with a warm comfort. He also wasn't alone. Wally was asleep on an armchair he must have dragged in, still in his Kid Flash uniform except for his goggles, which Bart could see on the ground beside him. He watched him breathe, and Bart smiled.
There was a small knock on the cave door. He looked up. Barry was there, leaning against the doorway. He had two plates with sandwiches in his hands.
"I didn't know you were up," he whispered, coming in. He gave one of the plates to Bart, and left the other on the small end table near Wally. He picked up the goggles too, running his hands over the lenses.
"How long was I out?" Bart asked. The sandwiches are peanut butter, banana, and honey. Bart wasn't the biggest fan of honey. He ate a lot of honey, in the future. It was one of those foods that never went bad, and it was everywhere.
Bart ate the sandwich anyway.
Barry went around the bed to sit in another armchair. He winced. "We had to knock you out to get the inhibitor collar off," he said carefully, watching for Bart's reaction. He was determined not to let anything slip as he ate another sandwich, licking the honey off fingers. Barry sighed.
"Bart," he said seriously. "You're not a tourist, are you."
It wasn't a question.
Bart froze. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He opened them.
"No," he said, "I'm not."
Barry nodded. He'd expected that. His granddad leaned forward, massaging at his temples. "How... how bad was it?"
People tended to believe what they wanted about the future. It was how he'd slipped on the edge of the radar for so long, originally. No one wanted to believe the future was bad. He'd told the most bare-bones lies, and they filled in the rest. He could do the same thing now.
He didn't want to.
Bart let his head thump against the pillow.
"It's an apocalypse, gramps," he said. His voice cracked in the middle. He swallowed. "Everything's awful."
He broke down in tears, and Barry gathered him up in his arms.
~~~
Later, Wally would take up, and he'd tell the real story in more detail.
Later, he'd go and tell the League about his mission.
Later, they'd help him make a new plan, one where he didn't have to do everything alone.
Later, he'd meet Jaime Reyes, the Blue Beetle, and he wouldn't freak out, even alone.
Later, they'd win.
For now, Bart lay in a hospital bed with his grandfather and cried, feeling the best he had in a long time.
~~~
Bart Allen was doing perfectly fine. And this time, he really meant it.