Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This idea just popped into my head while at work and I had to get it out. It's been so long since I've seen Young Justice, so forgive any canonical errors that appear. Let's see where this goes and enjoy!

There were lights. Sudden red, flashing lights.

23 stiffened, staring at his commander from his peripheral out of instinct, then up at the screens that switched to show a feed of the main entry hall. Strange people - soldiers, 23 thought - had activated the alarms. They had somehow got deep in the base without detection, and were now expertly fight the guards. 

HIs Commanding Officer - Savage - didn’t react to the alarms. He stood beside Queen Bee, staring up at the huge security feed, as if they had been expecting the sudden attack. So 23 didn’t do anything either, standing dutifully behind the Commander. It didn’t matter if he didn’t understand what was occurring. 23 only had one job - follow orders. 

But… 23 couldn’t help his curiosity. It was hard to swallow, and he discreetly found himself eyeing the footage of the intruders. They were nothing at all like the armored soldiers 23 was around everyday. They looked more like his superiors, with flashy clothing and superpowers, though he was unfamiliar with any of them. 

23 felt his heartbeat pick up in excitement at the agility of a small caped male, who was leaping from the wall and striking two combatants out with skillful kicks. It was very flashy. An odd, green-skinned girl was floating. She raised her hand, and from down the hall, guards were flung as if by an invisible force. The intruders fanned out below her. There were five in total. They quickly disappeared from the cameras, deeper into the base. 

“-well, Savage?” Queen Bee had asked.

23 snapped back into focus, heart pounding faster, now in fear, that he had missed vital information. But the Commander hadn’t given him an order. He did cast his cold gaze towards 23 though, a considering expression on his face that made 23 nervous. He wished he wasn’t so easily distracted. The Commander hated that about him. 

“I suppose this could be a good test…” Commander looked him up and down. 23 felt his insides rattle and grow cold, even if on the exterior he maintained a perfect, unwavering stance.

“23. Our guests are entering the second floor. I want you to keep them there. And don’t reveal yourself to them. Not yet. You can handle that, right, 23?” 

Don’t reveal yourself , he thought firmly. He nodded, to affirm his understanding, always trying to be quick to pick up on what was wanted of him. Sometimes orders were confusing, but this was easy. This he could do. His nerves were soothed at the idea that this was staged. These intruders must be other Light members, here to test him. 

The Commander had initiated more tests late. This must be another. So 23 knew he had to engage this task carefully. He didn’t mess this up. He wanted badly to make the Commander proud. His insides fluttered at the idea, a feeling neither good nor bad, just intense. 

“Yes, sir.” he stated, the two simple words the bulk of his vocabulary. Savage smiled at Queen Bee, then back to him. “On your way, 23.” 

23 nodded and in a blur of black, he was gone. He wore the standard guard armor. He didn’t have a mask or cowl, and with the Commander’s orders, knew he’d have to maintain constant speed to avoid recognition of his face. Another part of the test. 

He felt a bit more confident, even if he was nervous to face combatants he had never fought before. Five no less. But as the Commander said, he was faster than The Flash. And though 23 had never met the Flash, didn’t even know what he looked like. All he knew was that, when he was strong enough, Savage would let them meet. 

23 wanted to impress the Flash more than anything, had fantasized about making the man proud, to prove that he was worthy of having his speed powers. But right now, he was too weak. That dream was a far reality, and in his current one, he couldn’t afford distractions. Even if his mind wandered too easily… 

He had to be perfect in this fight. The Commander would be watching from the security feed, and the thought made 23’s gut twist in discomfort. He swallowed it thickly as he entered the hallway and engaged the enemy. 

But something happened - something that he couldn’t recall. A mental wall had been thrown up, passed the point when he sped into the corridor with the intruders. He had already had a strategic plan in his head to combat both the green girl and the strong black-haired boy. They were the most immediate threats, to be taken out before they even realized he was there.

But 23 had never engaged. Or had he? His head stung. He saw red. Red, red, red. He felt sick, but nausea was little reason to hold his eyes closed. If he had failed this test, the Commander was going to be furious. He better not hold off on his punishment any longer. 23’s heart jumped when he looked up at the dark ceiling. Not white. 

He craned his neck, ingoing the ache there as he blinked at the unfamiliar room. It was bare save for the low cot he laid on and a toilet and sink in the corner. A basic prisoner cell, but not one that belonged to the Commander’s home base. He felt his breath freeze with the rest of his body. He had been transferred. 

Why? Had he not completed the test? 

He must have failed, and the Commander must have been sick and tired of his failure to be as good as The Flash. How could he do that when he couldn’t stop a few intruders? He looked down at his outfit, at the lack of his usual guard uniform. He’d been changed into a grey jumper. Not one he recognized. Confusion and uncertainty coiled in his gut. 

He stood, pacing the room and eyeing the door. He hoped the Commander would come soon. He wanted to get his punishment over with and go back to routine. This jumper felt baggy and light, not secure on his body like the heavy weight of his uniform. 

His hand twitched and he resisted the urge to bite it - a habit the Commander beat out of him early on. 

It was a relief when the hiss of the door’s lock disengaged. He stood to attention immediately, finding it hard to breath but sucking in subtle shallow breaths anyway. It wasn’t the Commander. He grew even more nervous as a large man in a black cowl stepped in, a cape draped over his form and giving the impression of a solid wall of shadow. 

Two points like ears stuck from the man’s mask. It looked silly, but the menacing set of white eyes beneath negated that fact. By his presence alone, 23 knew this man must be incredibly high ranking. 

He stood a little taller, trying to seem unphased by the man’s powerful, threatening aura. The Commander had drilled into his head that he wasn’t allowed to show fear. He hoped this was another test, and in case it was, resolved to pass it and prove to the Commander that he was still useful. 

The man stared down at him. 23 tried hard not to swallow the lump in his throat. He maintained his stance, trying to be as respectful as possible. It was hard to tell what offended some members of the Light. Almost all of them were hard to be around. The Commander was predictable. He was the only one he felt safe around. This shadow man was unnervingly hard to read. He felt his fear growing the longer the silence stretched on. 

Should he say something? He knew the Commander hated when he spoke out of turn. But other members like Queen Bee and Klarion would get upset if he didn’t react to their prodding. 

Klarion especially hated it if he thought 23 was purposefully ignoring him. 23 didn’t like Klarion very much. But he knew words worked better with him than silence, so maybe it was the same with this shadow man? 

23 felt his heart drop as he opened his mouth, ignited with the gross feeling of testing a boundary and not knowing if he’d be hurt for it. 

“Sir. I failed the test,” he stated, both asking for confirmation and wanting to get the worst of it out of the way. He should present his failure. The Commander liked it when he understood why he did wrong, otherwise he’d never learn. He had to show them he was still willing to be better. 

The shadow man didn’t say anything. Nothing on that masked face changed. When he spoke, 23 couldn’t help the slight jump at how deep and frightening his voice was. “Explain the parameters of your test and why you failed.” 

23 stood straighter, nodding. Yes. He had been right to speak. His chest felt a bit lighter. If the Light were willing to correct him for his mistake, it meant he wasn’t being discarded. It meant he had a chance. 

“Sir, I failed to engage the combatants. I-” he forced himself to keep speaking, despite the slight lump in his throat. He wasn’t sure how to admit he couldn’t remember. The Commander wouldn’t accept such an excuse. But he had nothing else to admit but the truth. 

“-I can’t recall what occurred after I made contact. I can’t remember.” He finished, voice growing smaller, fearing the repercussions for such a stupid answer. The shadow man was quiet. 23 felt like a bug under his stare. He wasn’t sure if he was allowed anymore words. 

“Who are your superiors?” the man questioned. 

23 perked up. “The Light. And above all, Commander Savage,” he said, happy to have an easy answer. But the man didn’t seem pleased. He kept staring. 23 didn’t think he liked this man. And worse, he feared the answer was wrong. What if the Commander didn’t want him anymore? He was scared to ask if he was to be decommissioned. 

And then the shadow man stood and turned. 23 wanted to ask him to wait. He wanted to go back to the Commander. But he refrained. He watched silently as the man disappeared from the room. 23 didn’t sit back on the bed. He stood where he was, forcing his hands to the small of his back and straightening his legs. He was going to prove he was a good soldier. He would wait for orders. He would wait. 

The door hissed open an hour later. 23’s body ached, but he tensed at the unlatching of the lock. The metal slid free, and he blinked at the strangely bright red man that walked in. 

At first, 23 thought he had red skin, like that girl with the weird coloration. But it was a full-body suit, with stripes of bright yellow and two little bolts by his ears. 23 felt his head twinged in pain, that bright red before him flashing in his mind. He… he saw that color. It was wedged in the missing memories of his test. 

The man gave him a smile. 23 was immediately put off by it. Smiles were often followed by pain and mockery. He refrained from stepping back. If he was to be punished, he had to take it like a soldier. He had to prove to the Light that he was strong. 

“Hey, kid. I hope Bats wasn’t too scary,” the man knelt. 23’s hand twitched, but he didn’t move. He wished the red man would stop smiling. And he didn’t know what bats was. He just listened, much too scared of this enigma to ask questions. The man’s smile pulled into a bit of a more neutral line at 23’s stare. 23 grew more nervous. Was he expected to respond? 

“No, sir,” he said, maybe a little too quickly. 

The red man frowned. Was that better or worse than a smile? 23 shook inside. He hoped desperately he didn’t look as sick as he felt. 

“Ah, that’s good,” the red man’s voice turned a little awkward, before he grinned again. “I’m sorry for, uh, being so rough by the way. I didn’t realize how… young you were,” the red man said. And 23 did not understand. He had not met this man before. Had he? 

Red. Red. Red. Red. It flashed in his mind at the question, and he blinked hard. He remembered. A little bit. He remembered the green girl. He struck her first, throwing her into a wall and ignited a roar of anger from his next target. But before he could attack, there was red. It hit him hard. Harder than anything he’d ever felt. 

He blinked up at the worried look of the red man. Oh. This man was a part of the test. This man was the one who knocked him out before he could prove himself. This man had enhanced speed like him. Excitement mixed with fear. He had never met another like him. And yet, that excitement morphed into sudden terror. 

What would the Commander need for a weak soldier like him, when he had another so much better? Maybe this man was created from the Flash too. It would be smart of the Commander to have back-ups, especially for how weak 23 was turning out. 

“Uh, hey,” the red man said. 23 snapped back to the present, shutting off his whirlwind of thoughts. “Calm down. You’re safe here. You’re probably hungry, huh? Let me go get you something to eat and we’ll talk more. Bats says you might be confused about what’s going on.” 

23 blinked up at him, not understanding. But he was hungry. He was always hungry. It was just a side-effect of enhanced speed, a discomfort he was forced to live with. And he had already eaten this morning. This must be another test. Self-control. 

“No, sir. I had my sustenance this morning,” he stated. 

The red man blinked, like that's the wrong answer. “Oh, uh, well, it’s pretty late in the day. You need dinner.” This must be a trick. 23 got one meal a day. He wouldn’t let himself be tempted to lie. Afterall, this man must surely know 23’s strict dietary restrictions. 

“No, sir. I had my sustenance this morning,” he re-stated. He wouldn’t fail. But the red man kept frowning, another deeper emotion setting into the lines along his mouth. 23’s gut sunk. The red man looked very upset. 23 felt sick. He wished the Commander was here. These strangers were scarily hard to read. 

“Kid… you’re a speedster. You need more than one meal a day,” the red one said. 

Was this… another trick question? 23 didn’t like these tests. “No, sir,” he stated. He felt his tongue start to twist with nerves. He fumbled in a rush to repeat himself, feeling it was the safest thing to say. “I had my sustenance this morning.” 

“Okay…well,” the red man had a new weird look on his face, frown deepening, but not in anger. 23 couldn’t decipher it. It put him on edge. “Well, while you’re here, you get dinner. Okay? Just.. I'll be right back.”

The red man suddenly stood, his words fumbling in an odd way that did not represent a member of the Light. He seemed flustered. 23 remained still, uneasy around the unfamiliar emotion in a superior, until the red man finally left. 23’s shoulders slumped, only slightly. He resumed his stance, knowing he had only a small break to collect himself. 

He barely got a moment to get his breathing proper again, before the door was unlocking again. He tensed. The red man came back in. He had a large tray, filled with food. His stomach ached, as it always did around this kind of stuff. He resisted the urge to cry. Food like this was reserved for Light superiors. 

His sustenance was gray, hard and calorie sufficient. It was soldier food. The Commander would eat the kind of food that the red man brought in - food he was not permitted to eat. His mouth watered. His stomach hurt. He forced his eyes on the steaming pile of food that he had no names for but always desperately wanted to eat. 

So this was a punishment. He stood still as the man put the food on the bed, awkwardly apologizing that he had no table. 23 could barely focus. He kept his eyes on the red man instead. The man was frowning. 

“Hey, kid. Come here and eat. Then we can talk. Okay?” 

23 felt sick as he walked over, the order making the scents waft right under his nose. He didn’t dare reach out. If he did, he knew he’d get nothing but pain. 

“Kid? It’s okay, it's yours,” the red man took a hesitant step back, gesturing to the pile. “Seriously, you need to eat. You’re a speedster, kid.” 

23 gulped. He didn’t move. The red man kept pushing, though, sounding more worried. 23 wished he’d stop. And then the red man crouched next to him, reaching out and grabbing on the soft pale items, the edges overfilling with dark stuff. It looked gross, nothing at all like the familiar gray of his morning meals. But it smelled heavenly. He clenched his jaw as it was pressed near his face. 

“Kid? Oh. Hey, do you think-?” The red man paused, pulling back and then taking a bit of the food himself. 23 felt his gut drop as he watched. “See. Not poisoned. Safe as can be,” the red man said, as if that was the problem. 

When 23 made no motion towards the offered food, the man’s frown deepened. This time, it did look angry. 23 reached out in blind fear, heart thumping at the expression. He took the food and the red man relaxed. That relaxed expression tightened again when 23 made no move to eat. 

“Okay, that’s alright. Just eat when you feel ready,” the red man kept his crouch, gesturing to the bed and asking him if he’d be more comfortable sitting. 23 didn’t move. He didn’t eat. The food was warm in his hands, melting away the cold in his fingers. He clenched his teeth together. He hated this. He would rather be hurt. 

“Do you have a name?” the man asked. 

“My identification is 23, sir,” 23 answered quickly, relieved at the simplicity of it. But the red man didn’t look pleased. Not at all. 

“No, your name, kid. Not a number. A name.” 

23 felt the urge to look away. He refrained. “23, sir,” he repeated, not sure what else to say. 

“O-okay. Okay, um,” the red man sounded flustered. “Well, you can call me, Flash. Um, kid?” 

23 didn’t mean to, but his mouth fell open. He felt the blood in his ears as he faced the very man he was created to surpass. His mouth felt dry. His knees were weak. He had dreamt of meeting this man the entirety of his short life. 

Why was he here now? 23 was still weak. He wasn’t anywhere near perfect enough to be in this man’s presence. The Commander had always said he’d never be able to meet him unless he became strong enough. 

He didn’t know what this meant. He was scared and in awe at once. 

“Sir!” He shouted, the hand with the food flying up to salute, then going back down in a panic, having forgotten about the warm, greasy thing. He blinked at the Flash’s startled face. 23 grew more panicked and resumed a normal stance. “I’m sorry, sir- Flash, sir. I didn’t realize it was you.” He wanted to shut his mouth, but stupid words kept coming out. 

“You know me?” The Flash asked. He reached out. 23 tried not to flinch, but the Flash only took the food, shockingly gentle, and set it back on the pile. “And why are you calling me, sir? Just Flash is fine, kid.” 

It was another test. He had to show the utmost respect. He hadn’t eaten the food. He hadn’t sat down. 23 didn’t want to fail. Not in front of the man he’d idolized all his life. He opened a dry mouth, feeling a desperate need to correct himself. 

“Sir. I will do anything to prove myself. I- I-” he flinched at his own voice crack, stupid, stupid, “I will be able to become your equal. I know that I can.” 

The Flash just blinked at him. 23 bit his lip, feeling sick. He had spoken well out of turn. He didn’t know why he felt so tongue-tied. He was just nervous, knowing this man he’d only imagined in his head was real, here in the flesh, judging him for how stupid he was. And then the Flash smiled, but it seemed odd. 23 couldn’t place it. 

“You’re fast, kid. I had a hard time catching up when you came into the room,” The Flash said. Oh. Right. The Flash had been the one to knock him out. Shame pooled in his gut. He felt his face flush red and wanted desperately to look away, but that would be disrespectful. 

“Oh, hey, no. I shouldn’t have hit you so hard. I didn’t realize how young you were.” 

Another bolt of shame ran through him. He wasn’t young. He was three years old. That was a lot of time. Regardless, he didn’t see why the Flash thought it mattered to the test. Maybe he was testing to see if 23 would try to take the excuse. 23 was a better soldier than that. 

“No, sir. I was too slow. That’s the one thing I should be able to surpass you in. I’m sorry.” 

“I- um, okay, this might be more complicated than I thought,” the Flash said under his breath. He looked at 23, opened his mouth, and then the door clicked open. 23 saw the shadow come back in, the imposing man looking at him with those piercing eyes, then at the Flash. 

“We need to talk

“O-okay. Um, kid, just try to eat, okay?”

The Flash stood, a hand coming out towards his shoulder. 23 didn’t know what he was doing and flinched, too late to catch it. The Flash paused, face pinching in anger, and 23 prepared for the worst. The Flash only sighed and walked passed. The door closed, and 23 was alone with the mouth-wateringly torturous food. 

His legs ached. He turned forcefully around, standing to attention towards the door. His hand was still warm. The smell was stuck in his nose. He closed his eyes, even if he wasn’t supposed to, and breathed through his mouth. He’d wait. He’d get through this weird, confusing test, go back to the Commander and continue on as normal. 

Everything would be fine. 

Both the Flash and the shadow came back. The shadow looked the same level of grimness as he’d been. The Flash looked upset. 23 wondered what was going to happen in the next few seconds. He felt his heartbeat pick up slightly. 

The shadow stopped next to the door. The Flash frowned at the food, noticing it was untouched. 23 had hoped he’d looked impressed. The Flash sighed again, a heavy thing, and looked back at the shadow. 

“Um, so…” The Flash began awkwardly. 

Then the shadow spoke, and he was looking directly at 23. “Explain. How were you made?” 

Easy question. He could do this. Some panic eased. “I was made in the Flash’s image… Sir,” he added clumsily at the end, intimidated under the shadow’s permanent glare. 

“Is your eventual object to destroy the Flash?” the shadow asked. 

He shook his head. He wasn’t a traitor. “No, sir!” 

“And what of the Justice League?” 

23 knew those words. It was a group of superpowered that the Light opposed. He was left in the dark about much, but he caught bits and pieces from passing conversation of the members. 

“The Justice League seeks to destroy progress,” he repeated bits of what he recalled the Commander saying. He didn’t understand it all, but he was desperate to seem smart in front of these two. Especially Flash. “They must be destroyed.” 

The Flash frowned. 23 looked at him, nervous at the weird look on his face. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to know this stuff. Maybe they were testing to see if he was a good subordinate, not eavesdropping and simply carrying out orders for order’s sake. He felt uncertain and scared. 

“Bats…” The Flash said, looking at the shadow man. The man was silent, looking at 23, before pulling that heavy gaze off him. “I don’t care. I don’t want to send him off somewhere where no one will be able to help him.” 

“It’s not a prison,” The shadow man said. 23 didn’t understand. They were talking over him, like he wasn’t there. He was used to it. It didn’t make it any easier to listen to. “He’ll be properly helped. His programming is connected directly to you-” 

“He obviously doesn’t understand,” The Flash argued back. 23 resisted the urge to step away. He hated when his superiors got mad at each other. “He’s a speedster. He needs another speedster to help.”

“Flash, he’s a security risk-”

“He’s a kid. They fed him once a day, Bats. I don’t know how long he’s been with them, but one meal a day is starvation for a speedster. And he’s still growing! I don’t know how he’s on his feet.” 

The Flash turned back to him, so fast it startled him. Hands were on his shoulders, firm but not painful. The touch made him stiff. The Flash gestured to the food. “Kid, come on. You have to eat. You shouldn’t go more than a few hours without calories. And even that is pushing it-” 

“Flash.” The shadow man was suddenly there, a hand on the red man’s shoulder. “You’re scaring him.” 

The Flash paused, looking back at 23. His lips pressed together before he tugged himself back, standing quickly in a blur. “I’m sorry, kid. Um, please. Can you eat for me?” 

23 didn’t move. He wasn’t going to fail. The Flash looked at the shadow man, gesturing at him. The shadow man shook his head. “Flash. Come with me. We’ll discuss this privately." 

“No. I’m not leaving him under some under-paid, over-worked, uncaring-” 

“He can stay, Flash. But this is not helping. We need to talk. Privately.” 

The Flash’s shoulders slumped. He looked back at 23, at the door, then sighed. “Okay, okay. Kid, please try to eat. It’s not poisoned, okay? I promise. Um, okay. I’ll be back soon. You’re safe now, okay?” 

23 nodded, not sure what else to do, and saluted just to be extra respectful. The Flash frowned. 23 frowned too, lowering his hand as the two men left. The door shut. 23 didn’t move. The food sat tantalizingly behind him. It felt like a taunt. 

23 realized he was biting the back of his hand. He tugged it down, the skin stinging with indents of his teeth. He closed his eyes and hoped the marks would be gone before his superiors came back. He’d already screwed up enough in one day. 

It was hours later. His legs hurt. His back hurt. His chest hurt, and he wasn’t sure where that pain was exactly coming from. But that one was the worst. He replayed the conversations over and over in his head. He didn’t understand. He wanted to go back home, the Commander’s base, where he understood what to do and what to say and how to act. 

He almost dozed off on his feet a few times. He would pinch himself under his sleeves to keep up. He was grateful when the door gave a sharp hiss, even if it made his heart jump. The Flash walked through. 23 lifted his chin, trying not to show any exhaustion. He must have failed, because the Flash frowned deeply, then looked back at the food. 

The Flash seemed to want to say something, but he only closed his eyes, opened them, and gave a smile. “Hey, kid. Came in to move this out. It’s, um, it’s morning time.” 

He walked to the tray. 23 stood still, not sure what he meant. He hadn’t realized that he spent all night standing though. It hadn’t felt that long, but then again, he’d had a lot to think about. He felt bad when the Flash took the tray, lifting it and walking back to the door. He paused before passing 23. 

“Um, here, kid. Um, it’s morning so you need your… um, morning sustenance,” The Flash seemed to stumble over each word. 23 didn’t understand what he had to gain from acting nervous. But he was focused on the food in front of him - one last test. 23 didn’t take it.

“Um,” The Flash looked at the door, mumbling under his breath. He was quiet for a moment, then looked down at 23 with a frown. 23 didn’t understand anything this man did. 

“You, uh, passed with flying colors,” The Flash smiled, still holding out the food. “So… we’re out of your regular rations so this will do for now.” The Flash waited. 23 looked at the food in disbelief, but slight hope. He wasn’t sure… was this still a test? He stared. 

“Solider,” Flash said, raising his voice a little, pressing the food forward. At the tone, 23 winced and reached out, grabbing the food. The Flash kept staring, an intense look on his face. “I need to make sure you eat your morning sustenance. Okay?”

He… he didn’t know what to do. His hands started to shake. This order was reasonable. They were out of rations. He needed to have something. But this wasn’t food for soldiers like him. This was person food. This was human food. 

He felt his throat well with an awful lump. He gasped on it, scared of it, knowing he was on the verge of losing control of his emotions. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t dare do that. 

“Kid. Kid- o-okay, wait. It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have ordered you,” The Flash was gently grabbing at his shoulders, face pinched in worry. 

23 didn’t understand, and the shock of the situation, of not being struck for his insolence, had him snapping out of his panic to stare. The Flash was panicking himself. The fingers on his shoulders trembled. The Commander had never looked like this before. No one in the Light had looked so distraught. 

“Please. You were hurt in the fight. You have to eat to heal. Just this, just for now, please,” The Flash pressed something into his hand, voice trembling. 

It was like the food variation before, but flatter, with green and orange and pink things folded in between two pale soft pieces. The Flash’s hands curled over his, pushing up, and he let him carry the food to his mouth. 

It went against every bone in his body. But it was too tempting. His stomach cramped horribly as it came close. He didn’t look at Flash, just in case he failed the test, and took a bite. 

Oh…

Oh. 

Oh!

His eyes went wide. It was… what was that. There was a crunch, not at all like the soft but firm yield of the gray rations. Under that was something soft and acidic, tingling on his tongue in a strange but delightful feeling. He had no idea what to call it.

He opened his mouth, barely through the swallow as he took another bite. He didn’t even think about it. He had forgotten about the man before him, focused on the tangy soft yellow thing. Focused on the pink thing that had a tang like sweat, but different in a way he had no words to describe. He had never tasted anything before. He had no way to even know what taste was beyond the dullness of rations and the iron of his own sweat. 

He went for another bite, then his eyes flew open. His heart dropped. He stared up at the Flash. The man was smiling, looking hopeful. 23 didn’t see that. He just saw a superior watching a soldier act out - act like some animal greedily taking more than he was worthy of. 23 reeled backwards, the food threatening to come back up as he realized how disgusting he’d acted. The Flash’s face fell. 

“N-no, it’s okay. You needed to eat. You must be starving, kid. It’s normal to… to be eager, okay? Here. I’ll… this is the rest of your morning sustenance. You… need a bit more to get stronger like me,” The Flash’s voice faltered again, like he was reading a script. “Um, so I’ll leave this here. Your… orders are to finish your rations. I’ll be back in an hour.” 

“Yes, sir.” 23 said, trying to hide his embarrassment under a firm voice. 

He tried desperately not to stare at the plate that was set aside. It was the food he’d taken a few bites of, and another different piece of food he’d never seen before. The Flash took the rest of the tray, giving him an uneasy look. 

“Remember your orders. Eat. Okay?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“O-okay. I’ll be back, kid.” 

As soon as the door closed, 23 darted to the bed, his super speed making him barrel into the side of the mattress by accident. He couldn't help it. He had eaten the food and wasn’t corrected. 

The Flash was telling the truth when he said they were out of gray rations. He would probably have the gray brick again tomorrow, but for now, his excitement swelled as he lowered himself by the plate. He wanted to inhale the soft pale pieces with the colorful layers between them. But he refrained, instead picking it up and allowing himself to feel it under his fingers. He had an hour after all. And he’d never get this opportunity again. 

He opened it. The green pieces were stiff, the middle pieces pale and crunchy. He lifted it, noticing the smear of pink sauce under the side. He tilted his head and took a bit on his finger, not sure what this was or its purpose. 

Some vitamin supplement, maybe? He tasted it. 

The entire food was gone in the next few seconds. 23 couldn’t help it. It tasted so good. Nothing he’d ever experienced. He licked his lips, the taste fading. He was disappointed in himself, that he couldn’t even remember eating it. 

He tried to be careful with the second and last item. It was softer than the stacked pieces and presented as a whole structure. It was dark brown, cube-shaped and sitting on a round white paper.

23 poked the paper, not sure if that piece was edible, then picked it up. The sub was spongy. Weird, no food should be spongy. Inside were lines of darker brown. It wasn’t spongy though. It looked solid and firm. He smelled it. His mouth watered but he pulled it away, nearly biting into the cube at the sickeningly sweet smell. 

Was food supposed to smell like that? 

He opened his mouth, angling the cube awkwardly so he could bite off a corner. His eyes lit up. And like his first food, this cube was gone in a few seconds. He licked at his lips, the sweet taste overwhelming, and he wished he could keep it in there forever. It went away so quickly. And it was probably the last time he’d ever get to taste something so wonderful. He felt tears sting in his eyes. It shocked him. He’d always been able to keep himself under control. But now he shook, feeling a pit grow. 

 He felt bad suddenly. Even if the pain in the stomach was gone, something else had settled there. He felt stupid. He felt bad. He felt weak. He wiped at his face, and stood, standing to attention by the door again. He was not ordered to sleep, and though he desperately wished too, Flash said it was morning. 

That meant he had to be prepared.

He had to be ready. 

He had to be a good soldier. 

The Flash came back not long after. 23 was ready. He lifted his head, even if it weighed what felt like a hundred pounds. The Flash peeked his head in, sliding around the door. He eyed the plate, smiling, but it faded when he looked back to 23. 

“Um, hey kid. There’s no, um, schedule for you today. You just need to lay down and rest. Doctor’s orders,” The Flash rambled, going over to collect the plate. He turned, as if waiting. 23 looked at the cot, then back up. No training today? 

“I feel good, sir. I can train without disruption,” he supplied. 

The Flash shook his head. “Uh, you have training tomorrow. Right now, you need to rest. I… um, want to see you at your best,” The Flash nodded, as if to himself. “Um, yeah. I need you to rest now so tomorrow, you can show me what you’ve… learned.” 

The Flash said the last word as if it pained him. 23 wondered if he didn’t expect much out of him. The Flash probably didn’t want to waste his time with a lowly soldier. But he still liked the idea of rest. It made sense. If he was needed in top condition, rest made sense. He tried to ignore the excitement he felt at that suggestion. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Okay, good,” The Flash seemed relieved there was no pushback. “I’ll lower the lights for you some more. These things are the worst," he grinned, then it faltered when 23 only stared back. “Alright, kid. Get some rest. Breakfast, um, morning sustenance when you wake up. And then training with me.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Okay… okay. Night, kid.” 

23 didn’t know what to say to that. He just nodded respectfully. When the Flash left, the lights went dim. He blinked, eyelids heavy all the sudden, and turned to the cot. He’d wanted to lay on it since he’d woken back up. Blessedly he laid down, feeling warm as he slipped under the covers. They were thicker here than in the regular base. 

His stomach felt good too. Much warmer than normal. And even if it was morning, he felt so comfy in bed that it might as well have been the middle of the night. He closed his eyes, head sinking into the too-soft pillow, and fell asleep immediately. 

Chapter Text

Bang. Thump. Thump. 

It was still dark in the room. 23 opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling. He was only half-awake. He felt exhausted, and he thought the noises were in his head at first. Then clarity sharpened and he realized it was coming from the wall over his head. 

He sat up, still gathering his bearings, when the vent over his head suddenly turned green. He lurched backwards at the bright light in shock, falling off the cot in a tangle of sheets. The vent lifted. There were bickering voices and then two bodies tumbled out. A small one and a larger one. They bounced on the bed. A blonde girl stuck her out of the vent above them, glaring down. 

“You’re too loud,” she whisper-hissed. “Is this even the right room?” 

“Uh, yeah, my coordinates are never wrong,” the smaller body jumped from the bed, leaping off the other who 23 recognized as the strong boy. The one with the black shirt and red color on the chest. 

He blinked at them, catching the smaller one's eyes. He grinned, jumping off the bed. 23 scrambled to his feet, shocked that (when the blonde girl jumped into the room) another boy and the green girl followed behind. Everyone from the fight. The fight he failed before he even got to prove himself. 

He felt uncertain and weird. What were they doing here? 

“Hey! Mini-Flash! Hope they’ve been treating you well,” the small boy jumped from the bed. He had on his mask still, even if the others were out of their costumes, dressed in odd soft looking apparel in various colors and patterns. Those clothes were definitely not for fighting. They looked like sleeping uniforms but… much more cheerful. 

The masked boy was still staring at him. The dark-skinned boy, he had gills, shoved the boy off the bed. It wasn’t a hard shove, and there was a faint smile on the gilled-boy’s face as the masked boy squawked and fell sideways. 

While they scuffled, the blonde girl and green girl wandered towards him. The strong boy stayed by the bed, standing there, arms crossed and not saying anything. 23 took a step back. Then wondered if that was the wrong thing to do. Were these his superiors? He had no idea where they were in the hierarchy of the Light. If they were high ranking members like the Brain or Klarion, then he had to follow their orders. 

“Sorry we got off on the wrong foot,” the blonde girl was saying to him. “We didn’t know you were under Cadmus’ thumb.”

“Yes, we’ve been very excited to meet you,” the green girl was grinning, face bright. She was floating, and 23 struggled to keep his eyes off her feet. It was surreal to see them just above her own shadow, making his perception feel off and his eyes strain. 

“Bats wouldn’t let us see you, but we heard you weren’t a willing member of the Light, so we thought - let’s introduce ourselves,” the masked boy jumped over to him, smiling wide.

He was jumpy and agile, seemingly unable to walk anywhere without a few bounds and leaps thrown in. “We already have a resident clone, so we know you’ll fit into our team! It’s only a matter of time before I get Bats to let you join us in the mountain.” 

23’s head spun. He couldn’t keep up with the conversation. He was lost. He felt so lost. The strong boy’s glare sharpened, then he uncrossed his arms and started towards him. 23 held his ground. The girls parted as he got close. 

“Connor-?” The blonde girl asked. 

The strong boy- Connor - paused in front of him. He inclined his head. “I know it seems overwhelming now. But I too escaped my fate as a weapon. You are in safe hands here. I promise.” 

There was meaning behind that. 23 just didn’t know what. He looked around at all the expectant faces, all waiting for… for… he didn’t know… 23’s gut twisted. 

“Uh, you okay, Mini-Flash?” the masked one asked. 

“Perhaps our arrival was overboard,” the gilled-boy said. He looked to 23. “I’m sorry for our intrusion. I understand we met on the battlefield, but we are not enemies. We are, in fact, hopeful you will join our team.”

A team? 23 had always learned to work alone. Was it because of his failures? Did the Commander not think he was strong enough to be solo? He swallowed thickly. “I… was I not adequate?” he asked shakily. 

The faces pinched in confusion around him. A weird stillness floated in the air. 

“Uh, no, you kicked our butts,” the masked one chuckled. “You did way more than adequate, dude.”

“Yes, your skills in battle are impressive,” the gilled-boy stated. 23 wanted the words to make him feel better, but confusion greatly dampened any to be gained. “Under proper guidance, you’ll be a fine addition to our team. Of course, if that’s what you want.” 

23’s brows furrowed. That was an odd thing to say. “I… are you my superiors?” he asked, desperate for some clarity. Desperate to know how to act. There were too many new people. Too many new ways to screw up and get hurt. 

Everyone looked even more confused at his question. The blonde girl shook her head. “No? Why would you think that? We’re not in the League yet.” 

“League?” 23 repeated. What did she mean League? “League of… of Justice?” he asked. The very people he was meant to stop. The villains that want to stop humans from becoming healthier and stronger? He grimaced. Was this.. another test? He couldn’t be in the League’s base. The Flash was here.

 The Flash was here. 

“Yeah!” The masked boy said, oblivious to 23’s growing panic. “Sheesh, did Bats not explain anything to you? And why did they stick you in here? Connor got free reign as soon as we were above ground.”

“Hey, new guy,” the blonde was leaning forward, looking at him. “You okay?”

“You… are a part of the Justice League.” 23 said slowly. Was this another test? It rationalized the illogical scenario of this group falling into his room. Was this meant to test how he reacted to being engaged with an enemy? Was he meant to initiate aggression himself? He didn’t know. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think…

“-back up. We shouldn’t have come here. He might be locked up for more than medical reasons…” the gilled-boy was saying. He had taken the blonde and green girls by the arms, easing them away. “Perhaps we do not fully understand the situation.” 

“Don’t act like he’s a threat,” the masked boy rolled his eyes. “My name is Robin. Soon to be Nightwing. And you?” 

He - Robin - walked closer to 23 and held out his hand. 23 stared at it. An olive branch. Was this the test? Was the Commander watching, waiting to see if he’d take the kindness offered by the enemy? These soldiers were making it very obvious they were (acting or not) a part of the Justice League. He had to act accordingly. And that meant breaking any attempt at peace. He grabbed Robin's wrist, determined to prove himself. 

The boy’s face fell in shock, and then 23 jerked him over his head, throwing him directly into the wall. The gill-boy jumped at him. He was prepared for it and sped from the center of the room, a blur of grey fabric that ran up the wall and over the ceiling. 

Every time he passed, he struck one of the soldiers, sending them flying across the room. The space was so small that the soldiers had no time to get up before he made another complete lap and hit them again. Over and over, he slammed them to incapacitate, not kill. He wanted to make sure they wouldn’t get back up. He wanted to rectify his mistake. 

The door slid open. He paused in the center of the room, flinging the green girl one last time into the gilled-boy. They groaned, a heap of bodies that were struggling to get up. 23 tensed, about to attack again, hyper-focused on the red-man in the doorway watching. Hyper-focused on impressing The Flash. But the man held out a hand, voice loud and panicked. 

“No! Stop! Stop attacking!” 

23 stopped. He looked at the Flash, ignoring the movement of the other soldiers shifting and getting up around him. He felt a little ashamed that he hadn’t managed to beat them down completely. 

The Flash looked at the others, mouth open, looking scared, and 23 didn’t understand. Then the shadow man came up behind him, like a silent gilding void, and glared at the scene. He paused on 23, looking him up and down. 

“Did he listen to your orders?” the shadow asked. 

“Y-yes. He stopped. He stopped as soon as I told him,” The Flash said. 

The shadow looked at the beaten soldiers. His glare darkened. “You five. Out. Now.”

“Um, mind explaining why he attacked us? I thought he was a clone like Connor!” Robin said. 

“And non-aggressive,” the blond one added, she rubbed the back of her neck, wincing. 

“Out.” The shadow didn't pay attention to their questions. His repeated demand was met with acceptance. The soldiers filed out, giving him odd looks as they passed. The strong boy looked especially odd, almost sad, and 23 found himself looking at the Flash just to ground himself.

“We weren’t trying to do any-” Robin began just before he left the room. 

“Go. Wait outside. I’ll explain. I promise,” The shadow’s voice softened in a way that did not fit the large imposing figure. Robin nodded, looking at 23. 23 didn’t look back. The door shut, leaving three. 

“Kid… why did you attack them?” The Flash knelt down, voice soft in a way 23 didn’t like. He didn’t know how to engage with the tone, didn’t know where the dangers lay. 

“Sir. They said they were a part of the Justice League. I engaged in an appropriate response,” he said, then regretted his words. It wasn’t his place to say whether he did good or not. Only his superior’s. 

The Flash closed his eyes. “Okay. Um…” he opened his eyes, looking at a loss. He looked at the shadow man. “I don’t know what to do.” 

The shadow man nodded, then stepped forward. It took everything in 23 not to pull away. “Flash. Stand ready,” the shadow said. 23 didn’t like that. Was 23 going to be ordered to fight? He was scared to fight The Flash. He was scared of looking weak again. 

“Bats… you sure?” 

“Young Justice may or may not be correct. But they also contaminated the environment we’ve been setting up. If they want to be involved in his recovery, we should take the step.” 

“I… okay, if you think it’s the right course…” Flash nodded. 23 looked between them. 

He didn’t like the next words the shadow poured over his head. 

“23,” the shadow got his attention. He looked up, startled. Hardly anyone used his full identification anymore. He heard ‘kid’ a lot more now.  “You are no longer with the Light. You were apprehended by the Justice League two days ago, of which The Flash is affiliated with.” 

There was a pause, letting the information sink in… 23 didn’t get it. He cocked his head. “Sir?” he asked. The Flash was a part of the Light. 23 was made to be like him.

“You are no longer with the Light.”

“...” 23 looked back at the Flash. He didn’t understand this test. 

“Kid… I’m a part of the League. The Light used my DNA to make you… They lied. I’m not on their side. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to help. You’re allowed to be more than-” 

“Flash,” the shadow interrupted him, still looking down at 23 whose vision was starting to thin. 

He stared at the red man. At the yellow accents that he had thought were odd at first, but grew quite fond of the bright color. The Flash wasn’t a part of the League. This was a lie. A test? He tried not to let his face twist in discomfort. 

“Do you understand? You are not with the Light.”

“N-no, sir.” 23 didn’t know what he was saying no to. He couldn’t look away from the Flash. “Sir?” 

“Bats,” The Flash looked pained. “He looks pale.” 

“Sir?” 23 asked again, voice almost pleading. He stared at the Flash. “S-sir? This is a test?” 

More pain filled the lines around the Flash’s frown. “No, kid. There’s no test. We… mislead you. I’m sorry. I needed to make sure you ate, and-” he cut himself off at another look from the shadow. “You okay, kid? You can ask questions, alright?” 

23 opened his mouth, opened and closed, opened and closed. But… the Flash was a soldier. He protected humanity. He protected progress. Flash wasn’t a part of the League. But 23 didn’t know any other speed-enhanced soldier to exist. He’d always been told he was made after one man. 

23’s world was too small to know anything else beyond the Commander’s words, always in the bowels of isolated cold bases, wide training rooms and bitter-smelling, sterile labs. 

“Sir?” He asked again. He wanted affirmation that he was just misunderstanding. This was some test he was too stupid to get. 

“I am a part of the Justice League,” The Flash repeated the terrible statement slowly. “But you’re not in danger. You won’t be hurt.”

He didn’t get it. He looked between the men, breathing growing more rapid. That didn’t make sense. Why were they saying these things? Was he supposed to attack? He couldn’t be aggressive to superiors without confirmation for training. He couldn’t do anything without orders. He grabbed his head, shaking, suddenly unable to breathe anymore. Someone reached out. He jerked away, expecting pain.

“Help him! Please-” 

 There were voices, then a pinch in his neck. 23 blinked rapidly as the panic drained away, replaced by a dampening lethargy. He slumped, unconscious before he could close his eyes. 

He felt the presence beside him before he woke up. 23 felt a strong urge to lash out, to fight. His consciousness came without sluggishness. He immediately recalled the Flash - his idol - declaring he worked for the League of Justice. It couldn’t have been true. 

And the very man was sitting next to his cot, staring at him, apparently aware that 23 had woken up even though he attempted to fake unconsciousness. 23 peeked an eye open, his mouth feeling dry at the sight of that red mask. 

The Flash offered a small smile. “Hey, kid. How are you feeling?” 

23 sat up. His head spun. The Flash reached out but retracted his hand at 23’s flinch. Silence ran between them, a thick tension in the air that 23 felt suffocated by. 

“W-why?” 23 finally asked. 

“Why am I a part of the League?” The Flash asked. 

“I… I don’t know.” 23 didn’t like hearing the Flash say that. It sounded wrong. “You- I thought-” 

“Hey, slow down. One question at a time. I’ll answer anything you ask, okay?” 

“I-” he felt light-headed. “Why?”

The Flash sighed quietly. “Let me start from the beginning. I’ve always been a part of the League. The Light took my DNA. They made you, then lied to you about who I was. I don’t know why. But when I learned about you, I wanted… I wanted to help.”

“Why would they lie?” he squeaked out. He wasn’t allowed to ask questions like these, but the Flash had yet to strike him, and he seemed to perk up that 23 was speaking. 

“I’m not sure. But they did… But now, you’re allowed to know the truth. And you can choose what to do with your life. I’ll help, kid. I want to help.”

23 just stared, feeling nervous in the slight pause, as if he were supposed to answer. He didn’t understand the statement, let alone how to respond. “I am a soldier,” he settled for saying. 

The Flash looked saddened by the truth. “You’re a kid.”

“I…” he felt stupid for saying it out loud. “I don’t know what that means.” 

“Kid? It… it means child. You’re a child…” The Flash stressed. 

“No. I’m a soldier.” 

The Flash shook his head. “No, kid. How long have you been with the Light?” 

Easy information. Easy answer. It came out like an automatic response. “I was made January 24th, 2010, sir.” 

The Flash’s eyes widened. He seemed at a loss for words for several seconds. “2010… oh, kid.” He sounded incredibly sad. 23 didn’t know why. 

And then arms came forward. He wanted to lash out, to fight, but he suppressed the instincts in front of his superior as he was embraced. He blinked awkwardly, looking up, not sure why he was sitting wrapped in the Flash’s arms. What was he doing?  

23 sat stiffly as the Flash gave a small squeeze, then leaned back, hands on his shoulders. It had felt… nice… 23 wanted to pull away, uncomfortable with the unfamiliar feeling, no matter how warm. 

“You’re barely three years old… You’re so close to Connor’s age,” The Flash seemed so pained. 

“I don’t understand… sir,” 23 added. 

He wasn’t sure if he should still refer to the Flash as his superior. He didn’t know what to believe. It felt safer to keep saying sir. And… oddly, 23 didn’t feel as angry at the Flash as he should. If he really was a traitor, shouldn’t 23 be fighting back? Shouldn’t he be trying to return to the Commander? He gulped, not sure where the base even was. He had no way to contact the Commander. He was never supposed to leave his side in the first place. He choked, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. 

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s fine. I, um, here. I brought some food. Bats said we should start simple. I overdid it last time…” The Flash reached down by his feet, grabbing a small white bag he didn’t notice. 

23 immediately felt wary of the plastic wrapped container. Surprises were always bad, bad, bad. But then the plastic was removed, and a heavenly scent rose from inside. 23’s mouth watered. His stomach gave a sharp, terrible pain. 

“Here. It’s warm. Try to drink slowly,” The Flash carefully handed over the white styrofoam. It was large and heavy, and 23 took it out of surprise, looking inside to see dark gold liquid. He looked up, confused. 

“It’s… it’s soup. You drink it,” The Flash urged. “Try it. It’s good for your stomach.” 

Yes. His stomach hurt. But 23 wanted to drink this by smell alone. His instincts screamed at him not to. That it was a test… but… but he was taken by the League… and the Flash was here, and the Flash had already given him food and nothing bad happened when he ate it and it was so good that- that- that- 

The soup was gone. His stomach hurt in a different way and his front was wet. The Flash leapt upward, hands up and 23 blinked in surprise, cowering away. The Flash immediately stepped backwards. 

“Oh, no, no. It’s good you ate. It’s great! I just didn’t expect- I should have brought a towel… um, give me one sec-” 

The Flash blurred to the door, opened it, and blurred away again. The door took a few seconds to close. 23 could have left in the time. For some reason, he didn’t move. Then the Flash appeared just before the door closed, holding a few different things as he moved more slowly to the bed. 

“Here’s a towel, kiddo,” The Flash handed it off. 

23 gingerly reached up. He should be beaten for causing a mess. He didn’t understand. He shakily started to dry himself off, cheeks bleeding red with shame. 

The Flash set the other items on the bed. One was a water bottle that was cracked open and handed over. 23 took it after looking up at the Flash. He wanted verbal permission, but when he grabbed it, the Flash merely smiled and went back to the pile. 23 didn’t drink, even if his throat ached. 

He eyed his idol, eyed the man on his side and yet not, and tried to quell the nausea rolling so constantly in his gut. Then another container was offered. His eyes went wide. More soup? He was startled by his own voice, not realizing he said that out loud. 

“You’re a speedster, kid. You need calories to keep going. Here, it’s yours.” 

23 reached up and took it, even as he protested. “B-but, sir. I had my morning sustenance.”

“Well, we’re on a new routine. If I’m going to train you, you need more calories.” 

“Train?” 23 gasped. He wouldn’t- he never thought - The Flash training him? He forgot that the Flash was a traitor for a moment, feeling his chest swell at the idea, at being mentored by the Flash himself! And then he deflated, pulling the soup away from himself. 

“You’re a part of the League,” he argued, voice weak. “You… hurt people.” 

“What?” The Flash’s voice raised in shock. “No. Kid, no. The League are heroes. We protect people. We protect those without powers… Did the Light tell you that?” 

“You… you hurt progress. You keep people from- from being healthy-” 23 tried to repeat the things the Commander spoke, but it felt like a weak replica on his tongue. 

“No,” The Flash said softly, and there seemed to be relief in his voice. Again, 23 didn’t understand. “It’s good though, that you don’t want to see people hurt. That’s very in line with what I fight for.” 

“No.. That’s not-” 23 shook his head. The Light helped humanity. They were the good guys. But the Flash was good. He was chosen to be made in his image. Why else if not because he was helpful? 

“It is,” The Flash said, firm but gentle. “We help people who are hurt. Who need help. That’s why I want to help you, kid. You need someone to give you a chance.” 

“No. No, I’m not a person,” 23 said, parroting the ingrained phrase. “I’m a soldier.” 

The Flash suddenly looked ill. “You’re a person. You’re a person. Okay?”

“I’m a soldier..” 

23’s chest felt full. It felt like it was going to burst. He didn’t like this conversation. He didn’t like waking up in this room. He didn’t like being confused like this. He gasped as he was pulled into another embrace, the odd hold that didn’t hurt, that felt warm and nice. He flailed a moment then leaned forward. He didn’t understand, but he didn’t want to pull away. He felt bad when The Flash pulled back. 

“Alright, kiddo. It’s alright. I don’t expect you to fight for me. Okay? But I do want to teach you how to use your powers, and how to take care of yourself. There’s things about being a speedster that you need to know to stay healthy.” 

23 felt that he was adequately healthy. He trained all the time. What else was there to do? Confusion must have shown on his face, because the Flash gently shook his head. “We’ll figure it out. I… listen, do you understand me when I say that I am with the Justice League. You understand that fully?” 

“Yes, sir.” He lied. He didn’t fully understand. 

“And you understand that you are not going back to the Light?” The Flash pressed. 

23 gulped. “I… what about the Commander?” 

“You don’t work for him, not anymore. You don’t work under any of the Light.” The Flash paused, lips tightened like he didn’t want to say the next part. “You now are under my orders, okay? I am your new superior.” 

“Oh.” 23 didn’t get how someone could just change sides. He wasn’t a part of the Justice League. But now he supposedly was? He didn’t like that. He didn’t want to hurt the progress of humanity. His throat clogged up when the Flash asked if he was okay.

 “I-I don’t know-” he choked out the words, shocked by the watery shake in his own voice. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t-” 

Another embrace. 23’s face pressed into the Flash’s chest, muffled his panicked, repetitive words, each rendition growing louder and more scared. He felt a hand pet over his scalp, over the slight fuzz of his shaved head.. He liked that too. He shouldn’t, but he did. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re doing good, kid. You’re listening so well. I’m so proud of you.” 

The Flash said more words, but 23’s mind got caught up on that last one. Proud of you. The Flash was proud of him? Of the whimpering, pathetic mess of a soldier that couldn’t keep himself from getting kidnapped? Emotions, painful bad emotions, ran like ice through his blood. 

He found himself clenching at the Flash, scared of losing the embrace. The Flash grabbed him tighter. It felt grounding. It felt bad, like 23 was also a traitor. 23 should want to go back to the Commander. He needed to go back. Back to gray sustenance. Back to corrections. Back to no questions. Back to the labs. 23 grit his teeth. Why did everything hurt so much? He wasn’t wounded. He wasn’t in battle. 

“Shhh. Let it out. You needed this, huh, kiddo? It’s okay. You’re safe now.” 

The Flash’s words were kind. 23 wanted to believe them. But he couldn’t. Not truly. He didn’t even understand half the things the man said. Even so, he couldn’t detach himself from the warmth. He couldn’t leave the offered comfort. He never knew something could feel so safe. 

The Flash had given him more soup before he left - four containers in total. 23 had a hard time eating. It wasn’t hard to get down in the sense it was bad. It was amazing. He wanted more even after he finished. But he knew his place. He was lucky to get so much. The Flash had reached out to pat his shoulder, ordering him to rest and drink water. 

“Tomorrow, we’ll get you out of this room to stretch your legs. Are, um, you sure you’re not hungry still. I can get more food,” the man had said, stopping at the door. 

23 shook his head, even if he felt his stomach cramp with want. “No, sir…. Thank you, sir,” he added, feeling the need to express gratitude. He had more than enough, don’t be selfish, he told himself. 

“Call me, Flash. Remember? No sirs. It’s… um, you’re my student too. That means you can call me Flash.” 

“Oh. Okay,” He stated. It felt much too informal and disrespectful. The Flash frowned at his short response, but nodded anyway. 

“Night, kid. Sleep well.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

The Flash paused, shoulders stiffening, before he closed the door behind him. 

The next day was nerve-wracking. 23 hadn’t felt this anxious since his first few weeks of being alive. He followed the Flash down the bright halls, sticking close despite how easy it would be to run away. 

Yes, Flash could catch him, but he had always been told his speed was the only thing that exceeded the man’s. And even then he wasn’t as coordinated or precise. Even then, he had a chance. 23, for a reason he didn’t dive deep into, kept close to the Flash. He obediently walked to the wide double doors a few levels above his room. They hadn’t crossed paths with anyone else in the huge space. 

The training room was huge. Bigger than at his own base. He blinked in surprise at the height of the walls and the giant glass panel. A few people were there, watching them walk in. One of them was the shadow man. 23 gulped as the doors locked behind them, the light suddenly too bright. 

He was glad he got more food this morning - something called eggs and ham. A lot of it. More than he needed. He thought he’d feel sick afterwards, but it only fueled his nerves and made him much more alert. 23 wished he was back in his room, eating more food. He was already looking forward to tomorrow morning’s food. 

“Alright, kid! Here we are,” The Flash turned, smiling down at him, arms wide. “We’re going to go easy today. A few warm-ups to get started, okay?” 

“I…” 23 looked up at the window.

“Hey, it’s alright. It’s just Bats and a few friends up there. They heard you were pretty fast, so they wanted to see for themselves.” 

“Okay. I mean, yes. Yes, sir.” 

The Flash frowned, but didn’t correct him. “Let’s start with running, do a few laps around the room. You think you can keep up?”

Excitement coiled in his gut. Yes. Yes, that was something he could do. He felt the presence of the window fade, eager to show the Flash that he could be fast. “Yes, sir.” 

“Um, alright. And remember, it’s just Flash. Okay? I’m your superior, but also your teacher.”

“Oh, uh, yes, s-. Yes.” 

“We’ll work on that,” The Flash smiled, turned and gave a thumbs up to the window. “Keep up, kiddo.” 

He blurred. 23 blurred with him, easily able to keep up with his reaction time. He felt his leg muscles ache, a good feeling that bled into the soles of his feet. He hadn’t been able to run in days. Let alone in such a big room. He easily kept up behind the Flash, feeling a smile on his face when the man turned back and grinned in surprise. 

23 felt a spark of pride when the Flash went faster and he kept up. Another smile was sent his way. It looked impressive. 23 felt more exhilaration run through him, fast as the wind whipping through his hair. When the Flash spiraled back to the center of the room, coming to a stop, 23 didn’t want to. But he did, feet fumbling for purchase, not at all the perfect halt that the Flash executed. 

A firm hand reached out, grabbing him and gently easing him to his feet. The Flash patted his head, grinning wide. 

“Look at you, kid! A natural!" The Flash looked up to the window, while 23 stared at him, mouth opened slightly, his heart beating with more than adrenaline. The Flash looked so… proud. “Hey, Bats. See that? He didn’t break a sweat!” 

The shadow man didn’t move. He was hard to see from this far down though. The Flash patted his head again, and 23 wanted to reach up and grab his hand to keep it there. He refrained. 

A voice came over the speakers - shadow man’s. “Continue to the strength test.” 

Flash nodded, then paused. “Oh, here. You need to supplement your calories.” The Flash reached into a compartment on his suit, pulling a little bar from it. He unwrapped the plastic, handing over the light-colored food to him. Little spots of dark pocketed it. He stared at it. 

“I know it’s not morning. But you need to eat. You have to be fully prepared for the next test, okay?” 

“Okay, Yes, si-” he stopped himself, taking the bar. This food looked more like the gray rations, though, so he didn’t feel as bad eating it this late in the morning. When he took a bite, though, it was nothing like the gray rations. This bar tasted sweet and sticky, and the dark spots tasted like the brown cube. The bar was gone before he could properly taste it. 

The Flash smiled. “There we go. Alright, kid. Some targets are going to pop up over there. Strike them as hard and as fast as you can when they come up. Think you can do that?” 

“Yes.” 23 was used to human targets - guards with guns and armor, superiors of the Light, and Savage himself when he wasn’t on missions. He didn’t want to say that out loud though. He didn’t really like humans. They didn’t hold back like he did. 

The Flash stood back. 23 was directed to the middle of the room where he readied his stance. The room whirred to life. It scared him a little but he remained in position, hyper aware of the red-clad audience behind him. 

The first target shattered under his fist. Metal shattered into the far wall. He wanted to look back at the Flash, to see the reaction, to see if he did good, but more targets appeared. He destroyed each one, ripping them from the hinges with each strike, putting everything he had into the hits. These weren’t human. He didn’t let himself hold back. 

When everything came to a still, smoke all around him, 23 turned around with heavy breaths. The Flash was staring with wide-eyes. It… was it a good look? 23 was suddenly nervous. He felt his hand shake, feeling the urge to bite it. Why wasn’t the Flash smiling? Why was he looking at the window? 

The Flash’s eyes finally found his. His weird expression shifted into a frown, then an uneasy smile. “Hey, kid. Good job. You’re… you’re really strong.”

It didn’t sound good. 23 looked back at the targets. “Was I not to destroy them?” he asked. Maybe that was it. Maybe he destroyed equipment and it was hard to replace. 

“No, I asked you to hit as hard as you could. You did good, really. Um, I’m just surprised. You’re a lot stronger than I expected.” 

He was? Then… Then… “Why do you seem upset?” He bit his tongue, upset he asked, but his insides were squirming at what he did wrong. The Flash was his superior. He had to tell him when he did wrong or he’d never learn. 

“No, no, not upset,” The Flash knelt in that way that put them on equal level, that made 23 feel a little less intimidated. “I’m not mad at all. You did exactly as I asked. I didn’t know the extent of your strength. You… could have really hurt the kids when they came to your room the other night. You held back?” 

Kids. That word again, applied to the five soldiers that fell out of the vent. 23 nodded. “I don’t harm humans, sir.” 

“I- kid…” Flash looked pained. “You are human.” 

They went over this. “No. I’m a soldier. I’m not allowed to hurt humans unless they are tied to the Justice League.” He’d only hurt a few humans in his lifetime, when he was getting used to his powers, when he was fresh to the world and to power. He didn’t like it. 

The Flash paused, looked to the window, then back down with a pensive expression. “Kid. You know I’m a part of the League. You haven’t hurt me or Bats.”

23 felt his chest constrict. No. He was failing to follow the Commander’s orders by not attacking the moment he realized he’d been taken by the enemy. But… no one was hurting him. He didn’t feel the need to fight. And he, shamefully, realized he really didn’t want to leave behind the opportunity for more food. He looked down, face flushing in embarrassment. The Commander would call him selfish for such thoughts. 

“Kid. Hey. You haven’t hurt me . You could if you wanted, but you didn’t. Why?” A hand gently fell on 23’s shoulder. He looked at the red glove, following the arm to that kind, patient expression that he didn’t understand. The Flash had hurt him upon their first meeting, yes, but afterwards, he’d been… nice. And 23 didn’t feel threatened when he was around. If anything, 23 was sad when the Flash left him alone, and alone time had always been 23’s favorite while still living with the Commander. 

“You haven’t hurt me first, sir,” 23 said. 

Flash’s face fell. Was that the wrong thing to say? He felt himself in another embrace. It was unexpected, but equally as warm as the others. Flash carefully took him from the targets, a hand lifting up to the window, making gesture 23 couldn't see. He was led from the training room. 

The Flash didn’t say anything as he led him back to his own room. Flash kept one arm around him the whole time. 23 didn’t pull away. He didn’t want to. He didn’t understand, but for once, he didn’t let himself dwell on it. 

He didn’t question the oddity of the Flash offering him more food. It wasn’t morning. But.. but he wanted it. It was more soup, different this time. Green and thick and as wonderful as everything else. 

He liked the bright color, and felt in control enough to enjoy the flavor between each mouthful. His stomach didn't ache as much as it did when he started eating, but after, it lost a pang he didn’t notice. One that had always been there. 

“We’ll get this figured out. You and me,” The Flash had said. 

23 didn’t understand what it meant. But it sounded hopeful, and it was said after he was given the soup. Maybe, even if the Flash was a traitor, he wasn’t a bad guy. Maybe the rest of the League was bad, but maybe the Flash was trying to make things better. 

23 certainly felt better when the Flash was nearby. He never liked being around anyone before. It was a good feeling, but it was also painful. Especially when the Flash offered him one last embrace before he left. 

“You’re a good kid.”

23 was left alone. He rolled to his side, staring at the wall, deep in thought. 

Morning sustenance was provided. 23 had woken up before the Flash entered the room. He’d been hopeful for food, and happily surprised when both his superior and a heavenly smell entered.

The Flash was smiling. 23 liked his smile. It didn’t feel as scary as it had before. He was able to keep himself from scarfing down the strips of long chewy red pieces, and more eggs and ham. He liked the orange gooey stuff spread over the eggs. It was quickly becoming one of his favorite nutritional supplements, right next to the tangy spread on the stacked food. 

The training room was next. The Flash asked him to follow as before, no extra measures in place to keep him from escaping. 23 felt a small bit of pride that the Flash trusted him so much. Or maybe he just trusted his own abilities. Either way, 23 dutifully followed the red man back to the room with the tall walls and large window. 

This time, only the shadow man was up there. On the ground floor, there was another person. He paused. The Flash put a hand on his shoulder, urging him further in. “We’re gonna try some new training today. Are you up for some easy-going sparring?” he asked. “Nothing serious, just some exercise, okay?” 

“Yes, sir,” 23 nodded, nervous as they approached. The masked boy - Robin, that’s right - grinned and waved, hopping up from his stretches. 

“Hey, mini-Flash! Here to join the fun?” Robin asked. 

23 looked up to Flash, not sure if he was allowed to speak to them. The Flash nodded towards Robin. “Do you have training in hand to hand?” he asked. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Ah, right. Flash, remember?” 

“Yes,” 23 nodded, embarrassed, not wanting to use the man’s title. Even asked, it felt too wrong. He wasn’t anywhere near an equal. 

“You’re calling Flash, sir?” Robin asked. 23 thought it was a disrespectful question, but the boy kept talking before he could think of opening his mouth.

 “You don’t have to do that. He hates stuffy titles. He’ll like you better if you call him Flash,” Robin said, so offhandedly, it was as if he wasn’t verbally disrespecting his superior. But then again, 23 didn’t know anything. Maybe this Robin was on equal levels with the Flash. Klarion seemed young, but he was incredibly high ranking. 

“It’s respectful,” is all he could say. 

“Ah. A brown-noser, huh?” Robin laughed. 

“Robin,” The Flash scolded. But he didn’t sound actually angry, just exasperated. 

23 was still stuck on the soldier’s comment. He looked up at Flash, nervous, but figured the man wouldn’t be upset if asked a question. He hadn’t been upset with him yet. “What’s a brown-noser?” 

There was a pause. Flash looked down at him and he feared he messed up. Then Robin burst out laughing, holding his gut as he dramatically fell over. 23 felt his cheeks go red. He said something wrong. What did he do wrong?

“Robin, please,” The Flash sighed. “It’s okay kid. It’s just an expression. You didn’t say anything bad. Robin just likes to tease people.”

Robin hopped back to his feet. “I also like to wipe the floor with speedsters. What do you say, Mini-Flash. Wanna practice?” 

Mini-Flash. He’d said that a few times. It sounded like it was meant to be demeaning. And despite the blatant disrespect of it, 23 quite liked being compared to the Flash. Who wouldn’t be? 

“Yes. Let’s spar.” 

“Sweet!” Robin jumped to stance. 

“Hold on. We’re going to be clear on ground rules, alright?” The Flash stepped between them, one finger up. “One, this is for practice. No full powers. We don’t want anyone hurt.” He raised another finger. “Two, let’s go slow,” he looked down at 23 and smiled. “I know it’s hard to do, but this is just to stretch your muscles. Think you can do that for me, kiddo?”

“Yes, si- er, yes. I can.” 

“Good. Let’s get you set up here. Remember. Hold back. We don’t hurt anyone.” 

23 nodded, understanding the emphasis. The Flash didn’t want unnecessary injuries. Maybe no injuries at all. 23 could do that. He didn’t want to hurt Robin anyway. The soldier was rather annoying, and his childish laughs and actions had made 23 first think of Klarion’s attitude. But Robin hadn’t hit or cursed at 23. He hadn’t gotten angry in between his loud laughs. So he wasn’t that bad. 23 didn’t want to hurt someone just for being annoying. He knew firsthand how bad it felt. 

“Ready to eat the floor,” Robin asked. 

23 wasn’t sure what that meant. Robin said a lot of odd things. “I’m ready to spar,” he said. 

Robin snorted, grin turning lopsided. “Cool.” 

He didn’t understand the response. 23 didn’t want to ask anymore questions though, and got into stance before the other. Robin gave him a cheeky grin. 23 kept his face neutral. 

“Go.” Flash said. 

Robin was fast. If 23 was able to use his super speed, he’d easily be able to dodge. He crossed his arms, blocking a kick and shoving Robin back before swinging with his own foot. Robin flipped backwards, the motion unnecessary and extravagant, but effective nonetheless. 

The back and forth went on for a while. It was lackluster and almost boring. 23 didn’t mind too much. He liked that he wasn’t getting any bruises. It always took a long time for the aches to go away. 

“Stop.” The Flash stepped between them, hand up. He smiled. “Good job. And good self control, kid. You have nice form.” 

“Thank you, sir,” 23 fought the smile that wanted to worm on his face. 

“Yes, sir ,” Robin teased. 23 looked at him, embarrassed again. Flash scolded him again in that same non-aggressive manner. 

“Robin, I don’t think he quite understands teasing. Go easy, okay?” The Flash suggested. 

“What, like he doesn’t get humor? No one should not understand that,” Robin said, bounding over to 23. 

23 took a step back. He looked at the Flash, uncomfortable, but the Flash was looking at the window. He looked back, lips pressed together, but didn’t tell Robin to move out of his personal space. 

“When I fight, I like to throw in some quips. You know, make fun of the bad guys. It gets them riled up and they make mistakes. And it’s funny. You should try it when we spar,” Robin said. 

23 didn’t know what quips were. But he could see the advantage in aggravating an enemy mentally into mistakes, but the Commander didn’t allow him to talk freely. It would also be wasteful of breath in exchange for an unpromising payout. And more importantly, he had no idea how to make fun of people. 

Klarion did it often, called them pranks, and they ended with someone bloody and only the witch boy laughing. 23 looked at the Flash, growing nervous when he realized Robin was waiting for an answer. 

His superior looked slightly pained, but he was smiling, as if this conversation wasn’t derailing training time. “If you’re up to it, you can throw some quips. We’re not taking the training too seriously today,” the man said. 

Training was always serious. Otherwise, there’d be no point. But maybe he was missing the point of these quips. He still wasn’t sure what it was, maybe another word for mockery? He didn’t want to look stupid and ask. Robin’s cackling laugh from his “brown-nose” comment was still stuck in his head. 23 frowned. No one had even told him the meaning.

“Yes, sir. I can try, if you think it’s best,” 23 settled for. 

The Flash frowned, scratching the back of his head. “Uh, only if you want to, okay kid?” 

When 23 only stared, internally panicking over the vast terror of choices, the Flash held up his hands and shook them, as if wiping away the suggestion. 

“You know what. Let’s just focus on the fighting for now. No powers again, but it’s alright to hit a bit harder. Nothing that will harm your opponent, alright? Are you okay to resume?” 

23 nodded immediately, relieved he didn’t have to decide to use quips or not. He’d be too busy worrying over what Flash would want him to pick over his opponent. Speaking of… 

Robin bounded over to his place, a wide grin on his face as he lifted a finger and gestured for 23 to hurry up. 23 felt… something in his chest. He wasn't sure what it was. It wasn’t like the terror of trying to achieve perfection for his superiors. It wasn’t anger that he was forced to stuff down. But it did make him frown. It was an odd want to prove himself to this soldier. He got in position and lifted his hands. 

“Ready to lose, sir, ” Robin’s voice pitched up high at the title, mocking, teasing. He was grinning wide. 23 tried to slow his breathing. The teasing was a little annoying. He knew the purpose, so he wouldn’t let it bother him. He had the urge to say something back, but his mind came up completely blank. That annoyed him even further. 

Flash paused for a few moments, then said, “Go.” He sounded hesitant.

This fight lasted a little longer. Robin seemed to take what he learned from the short session and apply it to this one, dodging more quickly and almost catching 23 off guard with a backwards throw of his fist. 23 blocked it and attempted a kick, but Robin did another one of those obnoxious flips and slapped his ankle away. There was no strategic advantage to the touch. It didn’t throw 23 off balance or even slow his motions. But 23 found it mocking, like a fly in his room at night, buzzing incessantly. 

“Stop,” Flash called after a few more minutes of back and forth. “Good jobs, kids. Take a breather and drink some water.” He took another one of those bars out and tossed it to 23, before walking over to offer him a water bottle. “Eat this in between sips.” 

23 wanted to argue. He’d already had one of the bars. This was excessive. But he was hyper aware of Robin behind him, and feared rejecting the offer would bring up more mockery. He just obediently opened it, eyes wandering over to the masked soldier who took a long swig of his own bottle. Was Robin not going to get his own bar? It felt wrong. 23 had never gotten special treatment before, quite the opposite. He knew what it felt like to be ignored. It was a bad feeling. 

Not looking at Robin, he broke the bar in half. It was painful to give away the delicious piece of food, but it felt worse to let the other suffer for it. Even if he was an annoying brat like Klarion… 

“Here,” he said shortly, trying to be discreet while Flash had his back turned to them, finger to his ear and looking at the window. Robin looked at 23, at the bar, and gave a lopsided but confused grin. 

“It’s yours, Mini-Flash,” Robin said. “You’re a speedster, you need it.” 

“You…” 23 glanced over to the Flash, back still turned to them. “You didn’t get one.” 

“Uh,” Robin raised a brow. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.” 

Who would turn down food? Maybe Robin was scared of repercussions. The superior was right there after all. He subtly pulled the food back, eyeing the Flash and missing the odd look Robin gave him.

Flash said bites in between sips . But when he bit into the bar, it felt like his teeth sank into heaven, and he inhaled it before he could follow the orders. He looked down at his empty hand and his bottle, then his gut sank. He looked back at the Flash. He wondered if he would notice, if he’d be punished for being so greedy with the food… The Flash smiled at him. He hadn’t noticed. 23 felt his shoulders sag a little in relief. 

“You two up for a few more sessions?” he asked. 

“Yes, sir,” 23 answered automatically, wanting to rectify the guilt he felt in his chest. 

“Yes, sir,” followed Robin’s mocking tone. 

23 shot him a glare. He didn’t mean to. He wasn’t supposed to act out like this. But Robin only cackled and bounced over to position. The Flash gestured, still smiling in that warm gentle way that was feeling less dangerous every time 23 saw it. Wanting to work the sudden nerves that made his limbs achy and stiff, he hurried to his place across from the annoying soldier. 

He wanted to prove to the Flash that, despite all his flaws, he was worth keeping around. 

Chapter Text

23 waited in his room. 

Flash had taken him back from the showers not long ago. 23 was still getting used to the warm water and Flash’s urging to take longer than five minutes to get clean. 

The first time 23 had finished his cold shower in under three minutes, the Flash had frowned deeply and ordered him back into the bathroom, showing him how to turn the heat on and making it clear that 23 was expected to use it. 23 both desperately loved the alone time, but it was always ruined by his (The Commander’s) hatred of wasting time. 

23 wished he was still under the showerhead. Instead, his hair was damp. He shivered slightly, resisting the urge to look back at the cozy cot. The Flash had brought him back after training with Robin, telling him to wait and that he’d be back. 23 didn’t dare move. 

He had the slight notion that the Flash wouldn’t be upset with him if he laid down (or at least took a seat) but a deeply ingrained instinct from living under the Commander had him staying put. It was safer to stand in physical discomfort, than to wade in mental fear. 

He had the sudden urge to bite the back of his hand. His fingers twitched and he balled them into fists. It was a relief when the door gave its growingly familiar hiss, unlocking to reveal his superior. 

The Flash’s neutral expression tightened. Disappointment? 23 tried not to look away, hating how hard this superior was to read. 23 sometimes wished the Flash would lash out and hurt him, just so 23 understood where the stark boundaries were.

 Beside that was a terror that he’d lose the kind words and smiles the Flash offered him. Soldiers didn’t deserve those kinds of things but 23 had always been slightly selfish. 

“Hey, kiddo. You didn’t have to stand the whole time,” The Flash said.

23 felt that same cold void growing in his throat, unable to pull a proper response from it. He never knew what to say in front of The Flash. But as much as he fumbled and tripped, he was never punished. 23 licked his lips, throat too dry, and nodded. 

“I’m sorry, sir.” 

Wrong . 

He knew not to say sir. Knew the Flash didn’t like it, but it slipped out as easily as taking a breath. 23 ignored the pang in his chest at his superior’s growing frown. 

“That’s alright, but um, when I leave you here, you’re allowed to do what you want. Maybe I can bring in some books or something for downtime. You probably don’t want to sleep during all your off time… Um, you like reading?” The Flash’s voice rambled at a speed a regular human wouldn't be able to decipher. 

23 felt his cheeks heat up. The Commander didn’t think 23 needed to know such a skill. He wasn’t supposed to know anything beyond what he was told. He didn’t know how to write either. 

The Commander had always made it seem like soldiers weren’t supposed to have such skills - they listen to orders and that’s it. But then Klarion had found out and the mocking got relentless. 23 knew he was a particularly dumb soldier and it pained him to tell the Flash that. 

“I… I have no need for such things, sir,” he settled for saying.

“Oh, no,” The Flash shook his head, kneeling down, voice lowering into that kind warmth again. “You don’t read because it’s necessary. You read for fun. I guess you never got to read anything fun, huh? I’ll bring some comics tomorrow. Robin would know what kids your age like, we can borrow some from him.”

23 stared. The Flash thought he was smart. He thought 23 could read, and even worse, thought he was good enough to enjoy reading. 23 didn’t even know what comics were. He opened his mouth to admit his faults - to admit that he was never permitted to learn such things. But he couldn’t. He didn’t want the Flash to know just how stupid he was. 

The Flash might regret taking on such a dumb soldier. 23 didn’t want the Flash to mock him like Klarion did. And what if Robin found out? He apparently read comics for fun. Robin would for sure call him stupid. 

“Y-yes,” he stammered, realizing how shaky he sounded. “Yes, sir,” he added too quickly, feeling small under the Flash’s rising brow.

“Okay,” his superior began slowly. “Let’s not worry about that right now. First, I wanted to ask you a few things about our training session earlier. And then we can go get lunch. Sound good?” 

23 nodded, agreeing despite barely hearing the words. He was still reeling from his lie. What if the Flash found out he’d lied? What if the Flash thought him even more pathetic for pretending to be what he wasn’t? A hand suddenly fell on his shoulder. He jumped, only pausing when he found his superior leaning down with a worried look. 

“Hey, calm down, kid. You’re safe. You’re not in trouble. We’re just talking, alright?"

He nodded, understanding the words a bit better this time. He swallowed thickly, attempting to reorient his spinning thoughts. 

“Yes, sir. I’m okay.” He resisted the urge to apologize. The Flash reacted oddly when he did that too much. The Flash reacted oddly no matter what he did… 

“Here, take a seat and some deep breaths. Are you okay to talk?” 

“Yes, sir.” Wrong . 

He kept saying sir but he was too nervous to reel it back. He was too nervous to apologize and bring attention to it too. The Flash only sighed softly, but it didn’t sound angry, just tired. 23 felt a pang in his chest, not fully understanding it. The Flash took a seat first, patting beside him. 23 understood the order and sat. 

“How did you feel about training today?”

That was a… very open question. 23 usually only had to answer straight forward questions with specific answers. He felt his gaze flicker to the floor, then up again, not used to explaining something as complex as his own thoughts and feelings. 

“I could have been more efficient when engaging the combatant,” he answered, voice smoothing into an almost robotic tone. “His taunting was… irritable,” he decided to admit shamefully. 

The Flash actually smiled, a little breath of humor following. “Yeah, that’s Robin’s style. I can ask him to tone it down though, if it’s bothering you. I don’t want training to be uncomfortable.” 

23 wanted to nod. He wanted to admit that Robin’s teasing reminded him of Klarion and he didn’t like it. But soldiers didn’t get opinions. His comfort was irrelevant. So he shook his head. “No. It’s fine.” 

“Okay. But if you change your mind…” The Flash said. “Besides that, how do you feel about Robin?” 

23 didn’t understand Robin’s place here. The Flash and the shadow man were obviously higher-ups, probably similar in rank to the Commander. Robin seemed to be a soldier, but he was loud and obnoxious. He back-talked superiors and laughed and acted in a childish manner. He wasn’t cruel, but he was so similar to Klarion that 23 couldn’t help but dislike the soldier. 

“He is fine,” he said instead. 

“Just kind of annoying?” The Flash joked. 23 hesitated, then gave a slight nod. The Flash chuckled, and 23 froze up, not sure if that was good or bad. The Flash only patted his shoulder softly.

 “Okay, I’ll talk to Robin and ask him not to be so overbearing during training. But, um, I think you’d enjoy throwing some barbs his way. I like to use puns, personally. My rogue gallery hates them, but the public thinks they’re hilarious. At least Keystone Daily does,” he shrugged, then paused, noticing how confused 23 looked.  23 understood only half of that. Maybe less than half. 

“What’s a pun?” he dared to ask. 

“Huh? Oh! It’s, um, it’s a type of joke,” Flash said, waving his hand in the air as if that would demonstrate this vague concept. “Word play. Like, um… I can’t think of anything off the top of my head… but you replace a word with another word that’s similar, but has a different meaning,” Flash started to use his speed talk again. 

23 gathered this was something he was passionate about. 23 didn’t understand how one could enjoy words so much, but he couldn’t deny he wanted to understand. Unfortunately, Flash wasn’t good at explaining things. 

“I don’t understand, sir,” 23 admitted reluctantly. 

“That’s my bad, I'm sorry. I suck at explaining things,” The Flash said, as if he just read 23’s mind. 23 felt a small pang of something unfamiliar, but not unpleasant in his chest. The Commander never admitted his faults, let alone apologize. 

“That’s okay,” 23 said quickly, not wanting the Flash to feel bad. “I’m bad at understanding things.” 

An arm came up. 23 flinched violently, not expecting it, and The Flash gasped, retracting the arm that had been about to pull 23 into a half-hug. “No, kid, I was only gonna-” he bit his lip, then carefully finished the motion, drawing 23 into his side slowly. The soldier stiffened, then relaxed when he realized this was another embrace. 

“I won’t ever hurt you, okay? If you do something wrong, I’ll tell you. I’ll use my words and I know you’ll listen because you’re a good kid. I know how confusing and scary this must be. I won’t hold that against you, okay? I promise.” 

23 was frozen in Flash’s arms. He felt his eyes heat up, the tightness of tears (forbidden to soldiers, a weakness only afforded to civilians) and refused to look up at the kind smile he knew was looking down at him. 

Why was he so nice to him? How did 23 end up with a new superior who acted so… so… he couldn’t put a word to it. 23 had never met anyone as confusing nor as comforting as this man. He closed his eyes when a gloved hand ran through his hair, his locks starting to grow out from his scalp in a layer of red fuzz. 

He wouldn’t deny he enjoyed the feeling of it, or the fact that The Flash made no mention of haircuts. By now 23 would have his head shaved in the cold early hours of dawn.

“Red-head, huh? Do you want to grow it out?” The Flash asked. 23 blinked upward, head tilting so fast that the Flash blinked in surprise.

 “I can grow it?” he asked, unable to bite his rebellious tongue in time. 

The Flash only grinned brightly, the slightest edge of sadness to it. “Of course! It’s your hair, so you can do whatever you’d like with it. No one is allowed to cut it without your permission.” 

23 could only nod wordlessly. He didn’t fully trust those words. They were too good to be true. But then so was the new foods and the lack of corrections. Everything about this place was…

It was too good. 

Like a rope had been cut, 23 felt his mood absolutely plummet. This was too good to be true. All of this. It had to be an elaborate test. It had been some critical training that he was too stupid to realize. The Commander had to be watching. How else would 23 be taken from his side so easily? Why would it be the Flash, of all people, to capture him? He was too nice, too good to be real. Why would anyone be this kind without a reason for it?

The Flash said something over his head. It sounded like a buzz. The embrace suddenly felt claustrophobic. It was hard to breathe. He had betrayed the Commander. Just like that, he had allowed himself to become a traitor. There had been no resistance. And why? Because 23 was weak, because he caved into some kind words.

 He felt pathetic. 

What if the Commander was watching now? What if he’d been watching- and- and- he couldn’t breath. 23 lashed out, feeling trapped, and the weight of something flew off him and into the wall. He was shaking. He wanted to fix this but he’d fucked up. He was too stupid to understand anything. 

“Hey, no, kid, it’s okay-” Reassuring but panicked words tried to slip through the fog. 

23 lashed out again. He didn’t know what he was doing. Just that he couldn’t control himself. He was screaming. He didn’t realize he was screaming to drown out the Flash’s words, not until he saw hit fists flashing in and out of his blurry vision and the Flash’s cowled face dodging between them, a look of pure dread and fear pinching the man’s face into something gut-wrenching. 23 was causing that. 

He screamed wordlessly and forced himself away from the Flash, not realizing he’d literally tore holes into the walls in an attempt to strike his superior. He grabbed at his head, and heard that voice reach out behind him. It was shaky and small, but it was still patient and so fucking kind . 23 felt sick to his stomach. 

So he ran. He tore through the door that he'd stared at the last few nights, finally tearing free and into the hallway. There was a shout for him to stop as he dropped onto the carnaged metal. Then he was a blur sweeping down a random direction, just to get away from that voice. 

The Flash followed. 23 felt his presence more than he saw anything, the vibrating of another with his speed adding to the hum of his own blurry world. He made his legs move faster. He was faster than the Flash. It was the one thing he had - the one thing that made him more than a clumsy experiment who couldn’t reach his full potential. 

Fingers just touched his arm. 23 grit his teeth and pushed his muscles, gaining a short burst of extra speed just as those fingers grasped. 23 moved instinctively through the halls, taking the sharp turns more dangerously than the Flash, giving the man those precious nanoseconds to nearly catch up. 23 felt blood pool over his bottom teeth, a pain in the side of his mouth as he pushed harder and harder and harder- 

Something happened. 

23 was barrelling towards the wall, unable to turn in time, too focused on going faster and - and then he passed right through it in a haze of electric yellow. He crashed on the other side. The wall remained intact as if he had just passed through it like a ghost, and the bewilderment of that had him rolling face first into the next wall he met. The room had luckily been wide enough that he was able to slow before eating metal. 

It still hurt, and he blinked up at the height ceiling of what looked like another training room. One he hadn’t been in yet. One that was… occupied. Head spinning, it took 23 a few seconds to understand his situation. 

The young soldiers were all staring at him. All five of them. They all looked shocked, blinking in surprise… except Robin. The masked soldier was grinning at him, offering a wave like he was expecting 23 to come crashing through their session. And for some reason, his anger surged, and it was directed right at that stupid smug face.

Before 23 knew what he was doing he was on his feet, and in a blink, standing in front of Robin. There was movement behind him - but the others were too slow. 23 raised his arms and- and- and he pushed Robin. Not hard. 

He didn’t know why. He didn’t want to hit the soldier, just wipe that stupid smile off his face! 

Robin actually had the decency to look a little taken back. Then that grin returned, bigger than before. Robin raised his hand, palm up, and 23 realized the gilled-soldier was right behind him, probably about to throw him into the ground. 

“If you wanted a rematch, Mini-Flash, you just had to ask,” Robin chirped.

Now it was 23’s turn to hesitate, feeling his fists stiffening against his sides. “You- I- Stop smiling all the time!” 23 finally shouted. 

Robin kept smiling. “Why?”

“B-because! It’s-” annoying - “It’s not how a soldier acts! You’re so disrespectful!” 23 snapped instead. 

Robin just shrugged. “No, I’m not.”

23 paused, suddenly unsure. He was assuming again that Robin was a lowly soldier, when there were clues that his age may not be telling of his importance in the League. But 23 felt too embarrassed to back down now, and he’d already escaped his cell- he’d already gave The Flash a reason to- to- 

“Fuck you!” 23 snarled, shoving Robin again. 

Robin seemed to let him, simply allowing the momentum to take him back a few steps. This time, 23 felt the gill-soldier grab him. 23 let him, knowing he’d already fucked up enough today. But the soldier didn’t throw him to the ground or beat him. He just put a firm hand on his shoulder and gave a push, turning him around. 

“I assume you are out without permission?” he asked in a firm but passive way. 

23 felt himself deflate a little. He didn't look at the stares around him. He definitely felt Robin’s though, and resisted the urge to spin around and give him a third shove, maybe this time sending him to the ground. He refrained, though with great resistance when the masked soldier chipped in. 

“We have a whole hour left in the room. Why doesn’t he join us? He seems full of energy.”

“That seems unwise at the moment,” the gilled-solider said, his pale eyes flickering to the door. He kept doing that, and 23 realized why when they opened to reveal the blurry red smear of his superior. Behind him was the shadow man, walking in much more slowly. 

He felt himself go rigid, head down and biting his tongue as the shame of what he did became suddenly clear. His whirling emotions stilled under the icy film of creeping fear. This had to be it. The Flash would definitely correct him now, because he was so stupid he couldn’t just shut up and accept this golden grail of foods and sleep and warm showers. 

All that was for sure going to be taken away now that he showed he was a defective time-bomb. He stepped backwards from Robin, hands at his sides and head down. 

He didn’t look up as the Flash blurred in front of him, the tension of his stiff frame sending alarm bells ringing through 23’s head. He didn’t know what to expect. Definitely pain. 

He had acted way out of line. No way was the Flash going to allow this to pass uncorrected. But the Flash only started to speak, voice high and almost panicky, too fast for anyone but him to understand. He could faintly hear the shadowman talking to the others, but 23 was too focused on the superior currently clutching his shoulders. 

“You could have seriously gotten hurt! You cannot run like that! Do you understand? Kid. Look at me and tell me, do you understand? You can’t run off. You can’t do this, it’s- it’s really dangerous, okay?” 

23 blinked. It took him several seconds to process the words, put off by how scared the man seemed. Maybe he thought he’d have hurt the soldiers. They seemed young afterall, and well taken care of - prodigies perhaps, made to be leaders rather than fodder. 

Before he could apologize and explain he didn’t hurt anyone, the shadowman’s voice caught his attention, the question loud despite his lowly gruff voice. 

“Did he attack you?” 

Robin snorted in response, catching 23’s eyes as he smirked. “No. Just shoved me like a child and called me annoying.” 

“He showed no real violence,” the gilled-soldier added, and 23 didn't understand why they’d try to assuage his obvious incoming punishment.  The shadowman’s piercing gaze shifted to him. 

“Why did you run?” 

23’s brain short-circuited. He didn’t have a decent answer, especially not one he was willing to divulge in front of the soldiers standing behind him. He found himself looking at the Flash, but the shadow man's dark voice commanded him to look forward and answer the question. 

“23,” the superior said, and at his designation, 23 felt his blood run cold. “Why did you run?” 

“I don’t know, sir,” he forced out, unable to come up with anything as close to the truth as that poor excuse of the answer. The shadowman’s stare seemed to narrow and his cold blood turned to ice. 

“I don’t- I don’t understand what’s going on,” 23 blurted, trying to explain himself, but feeling even worse once the stupid words left his lips. And then even more dumb words fall free, his anxiety skyrocketing when the shadow man still said nothing.

 “I don’t know if this is still a test. I just- just want to know-” but no one could understand him, not when he started speaking too quickly to comprehend. Then The Flash was in front of him, hands on 23’s shoulders and his voice shockingly, confusingly kind. 

“Kid, I thought you understood. You’re under the League’s custody right now. You’re not with the Light. There is no test. This isn’t a test.”

23 wanted to admit that it wasn’t just that, that he was also struggling to accept his own easy submission to captivity. 23 didn’t want to go back to the Commander. He was a weak excuse of a soldier, regardless if this was a test or not. 

Regardless if the Commander was watching, 23 had long since failed him. And he knew it was because of the Flash. He looked up at the red-masked man, throat going tight. He desperately hoped this kindness wasn’t fake. A soldier wasn’t supposed to want these comforts - the food, the gentle touches, the playful way his superior talked to him…

“I’m taking him back to his room,” The Flash said at the sudden lack of response, glancing over at the other soldiers still behind him.

 23 felt his hackles raise slightly, forgetting about his audience. He didn’t look back at them. He didn’t want to face the embarrassment of acting like a spoiled child in front of them. Especially not Robin. 

The Flash stood. 23 followed wordlessly with the hand on his shoulder. But the shadowman shook his head and turned to the door, gesturing for them to follow. 

The Flash frowned, seemingly about to argue, before sighing and giving 23 a reassuring smile. When the doors shut behind them, 23 felt a miniscule better that it was only two sets of eyes now to witness his shame.  

“You’re not in trouble, okay? After this, we’ll get lunch. Alright, kiddo?” 

23 kept his eyes straight ahead, only giving a small nod of acknowledgment. He was too focused on the sharp steps of the shadowman, of following the sway of his cape. 23 was sure that this was it. He was going to be corrected for his tantrum. He had attacked The Flash and interrupted soldier training. 

Outwardly, he held it together, desperately hoping that it wasn’t the Flash that would be carrying out the punishment. On everything he ever hoped for, this felt the most sickeningly intense. 

The room they walked into was wide and filled wall to wall with consoles and computers. Large screens hung from the center mantel, giant in a way that was almost comical. 23 almost misstepped, surprised by their designation. This was a very bad room to do a correction in. 23 didn’t know much, but he knew computers were both delicate, and very expensive. 

The shadowman stopped by the large console, typing away as the huge screen came to life. 23 struggled not to inch behind the Flash as tapping filled the room in quick, precise cracks. 

The Flash offered another soft smile. 23 wasn’t sure if it was a good thing. His chest felt warm at the small offer of reassurance, but it was also cooled by the fear of distrust. Panic tried to pry itself from his control. He reigned it in and stared ahead, a video player popping into the corner of the screen before blowing up to fill the borders. It stayed black, the white play button waiting patiently in the center. 

The shadowman turned, eyes on 23. “From what Flash has informed me, your knowledge outside the facility is almost nonexistent. Besides the Flash himself, you hold hostility for the League. What do you know of them?” 

23 hid his nerves. “I know you’re a part of the League. And… so is The Flash…” 23 glanced at said superior, that confusion ringing in his head again. There was the disconnect. The uncertainty. The reason he wasn’t sure if this was still a test or not. “But you shouldn’t be,” he finished, voice wavering. 

The Flash frowned slightly, but his head snapped up when the shadowman cleared his throat, obviously wanting to lead the conversation. 23’s attention was dutifully back to him.

“You think the League is dangerous? That they hurt people , as you put it. What convinced you of this?” 

“Commander-” 23 began, then stopped himself, noticing the Flash’s frown deepen from the corner of his eye. “I- I mean, he always told me. You fight The Light. You try to stop them from progressing the world.” He paraphrased Commander Savage’s usual monologues, the familiarity of it steadying his voice. 

 “And the Light,” the shadowman pressed. “How do they help humanity?” 

“They protect people,” 23 answered. 

“How?” 

“They… I mean, the Commander-” 23 paused. The Commander said so, so it was. “They help people,” he repeated. 

“Are you familiar with most members of the Light?” The shadowman asked, turning back to the panel. 

23 stared warily at his back. “Yes, sir.” 

“So you would recognize them?” 

“Yes, sir…” 

He looked uneasily at the screen as the video started to play. He didn’t have to be told to watch. He wasn’t able to take his eyes off the screen. 

The video started pointing upward, to the outside. He had never seen it before. The sky - the blue and the white stretching out behind the giant metal structures. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the odd scenery. The video was terribly shaky, someone running down the asphalt road that was strewn with fires and carnage. The cameraman’s breath was ragged. 

Scared. 

23 knew that emotion well. But the next emotion was new - familiar in its essence, but new in its intensity. 23 didn’t fully understand what he was witnessing, but his heartrate skyrocketied in reaction, his heart catching up to the video’s conetnes before his mind could. There was… blood. And screaming. 

He knew Kaldur was cruel. Knew he was dangerous, and had seen him attack guards when in a poor mood… but 23 witnessed a civilian be torn apart. He knew what he saw, but he couldn’t fully register that he just saw a recording of Kaldur killing a man, not before the footage changed to another member of the Light. 

He saw security footage in warehouses, of working human men being caught in the crossfire of Deathstroke’s silent killings. 23 couldn’t look away as one of the workers tried to defend himself with a wrench, clumsy and uncoordinated and not trained to fight - one of the weak that they were meant to protect. He pleaded, begging, and his head fell from his shoulders in a display of eccentric disregard for life. 

He was silent as more clips trailed, one after the other, showing the members of the Light as uncaring of civilian collateral, or intentionally torturing the defenseless for the crime of being in their way. 

The video changed again. This time a crowd. 23 was wide-eyed, staring, his breathing caught in his throat. The crowd was destroyed into the side of a building, the mass of people caving in like the bricks when the familiar magic of Klarion’s energy blew into the screaming mass. He saw smaller humans in the crowd - children, little civilians that the adult ones somehow create and care for. 

23 had never seen a child before, and he was frozen silently as he watched the children in the crowd succumb to the same violence as their larger counterparts. 

23’s chest felt weird. The footage clicked off, turning black, but he didn’t look away from the fish-eyed reflection of himself staring back. He was breathing, yet it felt like no oxygen pooled into his lungs. 

He heard someone say something beside him, but it sounded as if underwater. Red fell over his vision. He thought it was blood at first, but then the red lowered until the cowled face of the Flash was looking at him, brows and lips pulled tight with worry. 

“Kid. You alright? If you have any questions… I mean, after you process everything,” he stuttered, voice speeding up in discomfort. 

23 barely comprehended the words. He was barely comprehending what he’d just seen, pieces of the footage flashing in his mind unbidden - tiny details that wouldn’t leave him alone, like the way that child had reached out to one of the adults that was already dead, how he couldn’t see anything in that chaotic mass of terror except the little human tugging that downed woman’s hand. 

There had been terror for her in his movements. And 23 couldn't help but wonder how the two knew each other. He wondered if that child was okay at that very moment. His chest constricted tighter. 

He felt someone turn him around, a soft hand on his shoulder. He walked as he was eased forward, but it felt like he was floating, like his legs weren’t his own. He thought of one of the civilian’s begging for their life off screen, how their voice strained in a way that 23 couldn’t dislodge from his skull. 23 knew what he saw. 

He saw The Light butchering civilians. 

But for some reason, he wasn’t comprehending it. 

He had seen the Light kill them in terrible ways, saw Klarion mock a man for screaming in pain… but the truth of it wasn’t settling. 23 wouldn’t let himself venture beyond the numb aloofness he found himself floating in. There had been a point in the footage that he saw his… that the Commander… His mind wouldn’t let him access that memory. 

He saw death, he saw the blood. Yet at the same time, he didn’t. 

That hand led him to something and turned him around. His back hit the edges of his cot, but he didn’t recognize it as he sunk onto the mattress, still staring straight ahead. The Flash was talking. 23 didn’t know what he was saying, and despite the soul-sucking anxiety that usually came with ignoring a superior, he felt nothing. 

He blinked, and it was dark. There was a little light in the corner of the room, glowing softly and 23 found himself under the covers of his bed. He blinked, his chest constricting as he started to think about the day, about his tantrum and… and… 

23 stared at the wall, once more passing into that nothing state. He didn’t sleep, but he wasn’t awake either. 

Chapter Text

23 never truly woke up. Not for a while. 

He didn’t do anything but lay in bed, sometimes aware enough to feel a hand in his hair or see red sitting beside him. He didn’t smell the food that was brought. He didn’t register it, nor the slow hollowing of his stomach. 

A smeared image of that child and that woman kept drawing across his mind. He didn’t need to understand the relationship between the humans. He just knew that the child was scared and sad and someone they cared about was taken away. 23 didn’t want to recall that look. He didn’t fully understand it enough to label it, but that bloody expression on the screen left him deeply disturbed. 

Anytime he came close to being aware of himself, of the world, the images on those recordings threatened to consume him. He didn’t think. If he dind’t think, there was no blood or carange or lies. The Light were the good guys. 23 didn’t hurt people. The Commander didn’t hurt innocents. 23 didn’t see his superior butcher them. He didn’t. He couldn’t have. 

It took a long time. 

But he slowly blinked, and the world shifted into slight clarity. 23 thought he was in his cell at first, but then he realized he’d been placed in a new room - one white and sterile smelling and eerily similar to the labs that homed his first year of life. He felt incredibly weak. 

Tubes ran from his arms and he panicked, grabbing them in trembling fingers and struggling to yank the needles from his skin. As soon as blood spurted free with the sharp metal, yanked off with the sticky padding on his chest, the beeping machines started to scream a long, high-pitched beep. 

23 heard commotion outside the door. Between that and the sudden rattling alarm, he grew scared. He didn’t know what to believe anymore or who to trust. On legs barely strong enough to hold himself up, 23 knew he had to run before The Flash showed up, otherwise, he’d be caught. 

He couldn’t stay here. 23 didn’t know what to do. 

Either the Flash would soon realize he was worthless, or the Commander would come and decommission him for abandonment. Maybe the Commander had already moved on to soldier number 24, birthing it from a green tube of sickly smelling fluids, starting it on a path that he and 22 others couldn’t complete. It made his head hurt and his eyes burn. 

23 barrelled through white rooms. People cried out in surprise, but he was too fast. He almost fell over, and his lungs burned before he even started running. So he pushed himself out of the building, and… and…

He stopped immediately, face going up and eyes going wide. It was nighttime. He knew the sky, and had seen it for the first time in those recordings… but this… It was pitch black, with things like gemstones far over his head, a giant white moon, so much more grand than any of his superiors gave it credit for. 

It was so bright, so huge, it burned his eyes. It made his throat constrict tightly. He understood little about the world. He knew what the moon was, but to see it before him? 23 felt smaller than ever. It made his heart ache, wondering what else the Commander blinded him to. 

And then two bright lights loomed before him and with came a terrible screeching noise. It was some kind of vehicle. 23 screamed, barely having enough breath to do so, and ran, barely missing the swerving car as he made a mad dash between the huge buildings, too scared to appreciate the vastness of this concrete landscape. 

It was a city. 23 knew that, but it seemed so… so unreal, so unlike the images he’d made up in his head. Those images were so small compared to the real thing. It was loud and big and it smelled bad. 23 fell over, too exhausted to keep moving, in an especially unpleasant alley, managing to avoid a green puddle just before he hit the ground. 

He rolled over, stomach cramping horribly. HIs legs hurt as bad as his head. But the stillness of laying there… it was almost balming to his incessantly thudding aches.

He didn’t notice how small his wrists looked, not until he was staring at them, on his back and face towards the moon again. He looked at his shaky fingers between the luminescent light, and for a brief moment, wondered how long he had been numb. He thought of the red he glimpsed in between brief moments of clarity. 

His eyes welled with tears, shame and regret and confusion fighting in his chest. He wished he could be swallowed up by the asphalt. He wished the Commander had never created him. The Flash didn’t deserve a protege like him. He bit his tongue, not sure how long he lay there, crying silently as he stared at that giant white light. 

Eventually, there were footsteps. 23 didn’t react to them. It could be a civilian, but he knew better. The steps were caferul, but quick, and he heard the draw of a bow string. He stared at the moon still. The person spoke, voice low and commanding, just like the guards he grew up with. 

“You’re Flash’s runaway, right? You gonna come peacefully?" 

23 didn’t respond. He kept staring at the moon. There was a beat of silence and then the string loosened its pressure. 23 heard the footsteps approach, then saw a young man in a domina mask and short red hair staring down at him. 23’s eyes went wide. 

He had never seen another red-head. He’d seen photos and videos of the previous soldiers (1 through 22), but those videos made him feel ill. Instead, the man’s red hair gave him a moment of curious interest, before he was drawn back to the moon. The man was quiet again, then sat beside him. 

“Ever seen the moon before?” the man asked. 

“No,” 23’s voice was hoarse. It hurt coming out. 

There was a sigh. “When I heard the League lost a clone, I figured you’d be more… lively. What’s the deal? Did you even have an escape plan?” 

23 didn’t. He just ran. He didn’t even know why. It didn’t solve anything. It just made things worse. The Flash might never speak kindly to him again, and he felt his eyes heat up again, his throat clogging. The man stiffened beside him. 

“Oh, shit. Don’t cry, man. I’m not good with this crap. Look, you’re not gonna be hurt. The League are a bunch of goodie-two-shoes who’ll, at worst, will set you up in a boring rehabilitation program.”

23 cried harder. He didn’t want to be sent away. He didn’t want another superior other than Flash, but for some reason, he ran away, and now the Flash won’t want him anymore-! His thoughts spiraled, and the man’s uncomfortable words filtered noiselessly over him. 

“Hey, calm down. You’re obviously not running so just… tell me what’s going on. I’m in the dark here. All I know is you’re a clone, you ran, and you’re supposed to be dangerous, but all I see is some starved kid.”

23 kept choking on his own sobs, unresisting as hands urged him to sit up. He coughed, a comforting hand on his back. 

“There, see. You’re fine,” the man said awkwardly. “Now, uh, you gonna run off? Or can I call the League to pick you up?”

23 started to shake, the crying threatening to resume all over again. The man held up his hands. “Hey, I already said they aren’t gonna kill you. Why are you even a prisoner? Didn’t Connor get to join the junior club as soon as they got him?” 

Someone else said something similar, but 23 didn’t understand it then either. He shook his head. “My Commander,” 23 said hollowly, the images flashing across his vision. “He… I… he hurt people.” 

“Oh?” the man said, sounding confused as hell. “Who’s your Commander?” 

“Commander Savage,” 23’s voice sounded far away to himself. 

“Are you loyal to that asshole?” 

“I… he hurt people,” 23 relayed again, still trying to wrap his head around it.

“Yeah, that’s kind of that guy’s deal. You know, survival of the fittest?” the man said, like it was obvious. But it was, in the sense that 23 had to be strong or he’d be decommissioned. 

But he was a soldier. Civilians were meant to be protected. That was the whole point, right? But Savage had never told 23 these things directly. 23 had gathered these ideas in the snippets of conversations he was too stupid to truly understand. And the idea of that made him feel sick to death. 

“Did you, like, not know?” the man asked. 

“I… that child,” 23 said, just to get it off his chest, unable to tear free of that horrible image. 

The man’s voice grew more serious. “What child?” 

“On… the video… I didn’t- he- I can’t stop seeing it,” 23 admitted, closing his eyes like he migh tbe hit for his mental weakness. The man just breathed out beside him. 

“Oh. Did you see something that was bad?” 

23 nodded. Bad was a good word for it. “They showed me a video… of - of The Light, and th- they hurt people. One of them- she died. And the child was- was-” he choked up. “He couldn’t save her. Klarion did that. I k-knew he was mean-but-but that-” he broke down again. A hand touched his back, and this time he didn’t flinch, hating how much he wanted the Flash’s similarly kind touch. 

“I never saw a child before,” 23 said, too tired to wipe at his blotchy face. “I didn’t know they looked… he looked small. And weak. And Klarion just…” 

“I’m sorry, man. That’s… that’s rough. I’ve seen some bad things too. It’s hard to see innocent people being hurt, especially a kid and his mom.” 

23 looked at him, vision blurred by tears. He didn’t know what a mom was, but he figured that’s what the woman was. Children were so fragile-looking, maybe they had special superiors to watch over them. 

But if that were the case, it still made no sense. The mom looked just as fragile as the child. He couldn’t help but voice this frustration out loud, perhaps cajoled by his last week of relaxed discipline. 

“Why wasn’t the mom stronger?” he pressed. 

The man gave him a pinched look, disapproving. Bad. “I’m sure she protected him as well as she could, man. Civilians can’t do much against a super.” 

“Then why wasn’t the child assigned someone stronger?” 23 pressed, so frustratingly upset by the image of that desperately scared boy. 

“No one is assigned a mom. You just have one.” 

“The mom should have had a superior too then! That’s not fair! She didn’t have a chance!”

“Do you even know what a mom is?” the man questioned. 

23 immediately sat back, face going red as he looked away. No. No, he was misunderstanding things. Again. Again, he was making assumptions. He was so stupid. He didn’t look up, even as the man hummed for his attention. 

“A mom gives birth to the child. Do you know that much? Like, about sex and shit?” the man asked, voice growing increasingly cautious. Sex must be dangerous. He didn't know what it was, though. But he knew about birth. He had been born from a tube. Everyone had to come from somewhere, after all. 

“I don’t… if they birth the children, why don’t they give them to a stronger superior? At least until they’re bigger? I mean, they grow big,” he finished with a half question, half statement, once more uncertain if he was making an ignorant fool of himself. The man raised a brow, then shook his head. 

“Okay, I think we’re both misunderstanding each other big time. A mom doesn’t just get a baby out of thin air. It comes from her body as a baby, and she raises it. On like, love and shit,” the man explained. But 23’s mind was faltering. 

“Out of… her body?” he asked, almost scared to know. 

The man blinked, looking shocked, then sheepish as he rubbed the back of his head. “Holy shit, were you born under a rock?” 

“No. I was born from a tube.” 

“Ah, right. Clone. Guess you don’t know much, huh? I bet the League is coddling you and shit and assuming you understand what they’re trying to do.” 

23 listened to the man, thinking him a bit hypocritcal. 23 didn’t understand half the things this man said, nor the ones that just left his lips. The man kept talking. 

“Look. A mom isn’t some highly trained mercenary or killer. A mom is just a civilian. And civilians have children to start families. Moms protect their children because they love them, even if they aren’t physically strong sometimes.”

“I don’t… get it,” 23 risked saying, feeling so hopelessly dumb. He didn’t get the point of it. He didn’t know what a family was. He knew it was a unit, but how it specifically pertained to humans left him scrambling. 

“Oh boy. Okay… we’re gonna be here all night if I try to explain this.”

“N-no, please!” 23 leaned forward, desperate, straddling the man a little. “Please, I don’t get it. And I don’t- don’t call Flash yet, please. Just explain more… please, please-” 

“Shit, okay, calm down! But I can’t not call them for too long. You won’t run off?” he asked again, narrowing his eyes. 23 shook his head. The man sighed. “How about this? Three questions and then I call for the League.” 

23 nodded. “Okay…” he didn’t want to see the Flash. He did. But he didn’t, shame and fear pooling like a leak in his stomach. 

“Well, go ahead. Ask away, I ain’t got all night.” 

“...I don’t get what the mom role means. If the superior is not meant to train or protect, then what’s the relationship? Why… why did that child care so much for that mom?” 23 asked, burning to understand that grief he’d witness. Maybe if he understood it, maybe the gross feeling of despair would leave him. 

The man frowned deeply at him. 23 thought he did something wrong before the man shrugged, words tight despite his nonchalance. “Out here, when you’re born, it’s usually to a mom. Sometimes it depends on the circumstance. But, so we don’t complicate things, let's stick to the basics… um, so a mom has a baby. And she raises it because…” he shrugged again, looking uncomfortable. 

“She loves the baby. She wants it to grow up and be happy and have a good life. A mom teaches a child how to survive in life, and protects them because a mom can’t stand the idea of someone harming their kid. Because of… love and shit. I don’t know, it’s not my best subject.” 

23 digested the rambling words. He didn't understand a few, but he understood enough to get the general idea. At least, he thought he did. Love was a concept he didn’t really get. He heard love in the context of Klarion adoring his cat, or his pranks. And Queen Bee said she once loved Savage - but 23 had assumed, in that context, that love meant warriors willing to fight together. No one had ever explained it to him. 

“What’s love? In the context of the child and mom?” he asked, knowing he had to be specific. The outside seemed filled with so many details that were oddly important. 23 wasn’t used to details, finding them hard to grasp. 

The man seemed taken back by the question.

“Man, I was not expecting this. Uh, well, love is when you care for someone. Like a lot. You think about them and want them to be happy. A mom… uh, well, a mom loves her child by teaching them things. They cook them food and make sure they don’t go hungry. Uh, they tuck them in at night and buy them toys and-” 

The man rambled off seemingly random things, adding random topics off the top of his head. For someone not versed in the subject, he seemed to know a lot about moms. And the more 23 heard, the more he had a realization. 

The man explained that a mom cares for a child because they are still learning about the world. The mom makes sure a child eats. She worries over them because of a need and want to keep them safe. And… and it sounded like how the Flash treated him.

The Flash made him eat, but it wasn’t forceful or tortuous. The food was good. It was nice. So were the gentle touches on his back and through his hair, touches that he had learned meant kindness and not pain. 

The Flash worried over him. He fretted over him even when 23 was the one to act out or make mistakes. The Flash wanted to teach him. He had said it when they met, when he was arguing with the shadow man - the Flash wanted to teach him how to use his powers, or more importantly, how to be a “speedster”. 

Maybe the Flash saw him as a child. 23 could not fathom why, but it would explain all his strange behavior. It would explain the worry and smiles and kindness. 

He had one last question. 23 looked up at the man after several seconds of pondering and opened his mouth, serious as can be. 

“Does the Flash think he’s my mom?” 

The man’s eyes went wide. 23 wasn’t sure what to, especially when the man made a choking noise and bit his lip. He seemed to be lighting back laughter. It was better than anger, but 23 still felt his face flush, reminded of how Robin laughed at him for the ‘brown-noser’ comment. 

The man stifled his chuckles. “Um, well. Does he do all those things that a mom does?” 

23 nodded. “Yes. He doesn’t act like a superior. He’s confusing… but he sounds like a mom.” 

The man snorted again. “Well, I think the Flash would prefer dad. That’s the male title for a mom, by the way. But, yeah, I guess that’s a good way to label it. Do you… think he cares for you?” 

“... I want him to. I sometimes think he does. He makes me feel not bad,” 23 said quietly. “I’m scared I messed it up. He’s going to be mad.”

“Do you care for him?” 

23 nodded immediately. “I would die for him.” 

“Woah, okay. Well… uh, the child shouldn’t really die for the dad. The Flash would be sad about it, you know,” the man said. 

“I would be sad if the Flash died,” 23 argued. 

“Hmmm. Well, that’s three questions. And now that I know you’re the runaway child of a worried mom, I need to call the Flash,” the man stood. 23 kept sitting, looking up at him with a slight frown. 

“You mean worried dad?” he asked, wanting to make sure he understood the title correctly. 

“Yeah, let’s get dad on the phone.” He tapped something on his hip, a red light blinking before he turned back to 23. His voice grew serious but kind. “Listen, kid. The Flash won’t be mad. But like any dad, he’s going to be overwhelmed by worry. He’s going to be scared for you. So when he comes, just give him a hug, apologize and things will go back to normal.”

23 immediately latched onto the instructions, wanting desperately to rectify his repeated mistakes. But there was a problem. “What’s a hug?” 

The man almost rolled his eyes. “Just wrap your arms around him - not too hard, okay - and apologize.” Oh. A hug was the embrace the Flash gave him. The mom (dad) theory was making more and more sense. 

“And… and he’ll still act like a dad after? If I do that?” 

“Yeah,” the man nodded. “I’m certain.” 

“O-okay. Thank you for explaining things to me,” 23 said. 

“Sure. I can explain more stuff, if you want. Maybe I can visit? Help with this whole adoption thing The Flash has going on,” the man said, and 23 felt his lips pull into an unwilling smile, startled by the stranger’s offer. This man seemed similar to the guards, but he was actually quite nice. Then his smile dropped, and he felt nervous again. 

“Are you with the League?” 

“Ew, no,” the man immediately said, and the answer startled a short laugh from 23 who looked scared by his own response. But the man only laughed with him. “Yeah, I’m not with those guys. Not my style. I do things alone. No bullshit, and I can actually get shit done.” 

“You… help people?” 23 felt the need to ask, and was relieved by the answer. 

“Yeah, as much as I can. But- oh, shit, sorry- time’s up,” and he turned, just in time for a red blur to phase before them. 

23 tensed up. Fear gripped him and he found himself speed standing, hands shaking as his superior stood in front of him, panting and frazzled. 

“Kid-” 

23 threw himself into the Flash’s middle, overwhelmed with painful emotions that made him want to cry - a toxic cauldron of things he had no label for. He wrapped his arms around the Flash (a hug, hugs felt good, they didn’t hurt) and hid his tear-streaked face in the red fabric. 

“I’m sorry-I’m sorry-” he babbled, not meaning to act so pathetic. But the Flash was here, and he was scared he would be mad, and 23 couldn’t handle it if he went too far, if the Flash decided he was worthless and wanted him gone-

Arms wrapped tightly around him. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay, kid. I- I was so scared when you ran off - I thought,” he knelt down, forcing 23 away yet holding him close enough to look him in the eyes, a firm look on his face. “You cannot run like that, kid. If you got hurt out here, or there was an accident… please… You can’t keep doing this…”

23 couldn’t find his words. He just nodded, wanting so badly to just go back to food and painless days. The Flash sighed but hugged him again, patting his head. “It’s alright. We can talk more later… at least you’re up… you- can you eat for me? When we get back?” 

He nodded. He nodded eagerly, more than he should have. But he was so relieved. He was getting food, even after running away, even after making his superior - his dad - waste precious time looking for him. 

A part of him was even hopeful enough not to expect a correction. Not when the Flash’s arms were warm and comforting and safe. Not when the man stood, gently taking him with him, promising reassurances as he picked him up off weak legs. 

“Thank you, Red Arrow,” he said, turning to the man. 

“Yeah, of course. And uh, Flash?” the man - Red Arrow - said. There was a slight anger in his voice. “Maybe don’t show him videos of dying children, yeah?”

The Flash stiffened. 23 grew scared, just for a moment, but then the Flash relaxed and nodded. “I… I’m sorry, kid. Let’s get you home.”

And in a blur, they sped off. Back to the base. Back to (and 23 felt himself cradling the word in his mind) home. 

The Flash had taken him to a room different from his first. There was still a bed and the proper arrangements for living long term, but it was smaller and deeper in the base. It was more heavily reinforced, judging by the bulkier heavier doors and extra codes. 

The Flash had seemed apologetic, even though 23 understood why he needed the extra security. It was a small price to pay for having run away. A miniscule price, really, as the Flash returned to him with food. All kinds of food.

 23 still felt bad eating, guilty for indulging, but the Flash smiled when he took bites. His superior lost the edge of worry to his eyes as 23 filled his stomach, in a way that made 23 think again on his and Red Arrow’s conversation. He still didn’t quite understand the concept of a dad, but now the Flash’s actions were making more sense, in an absurd kind of way. 

23 was not a child. He wasn’t even human, just a clone that had failed in its objective. But the Flash’s worry and care made him warm. He felt guilty for the attention, even if he felt as hungry for it as the wonderful soups he was given. He may not understand it, but as he was starting to learn that in this place, it was better to go along with things. 

And… well… maybe 23 liked having a dad. It was an odd superior role, one that was bewildering in its nature, but alluring all the same. 23 never felt cared for. He thought the Flash would be angry at his escape, but his worry had left 23 feeling  warm inside. How odd, that his superior’s negative feelings could make 23 feel (while not good) not bad either. He felt… wanted. 

His stomach cramped on the third bowl. The Flash told him he did a great job (a great job for eating? 23 didn’t understand why that praise was needed, but he liked it all the same) and gently took the empty dish. He wouldn’t let 23 leave his bed, having tucked him in. He recalled the Red Arrow listing one of a mom’s tasks as putting their child to bed and making sure they rest properly. 

“I’m sorry about the security, kid. But Bats thinks it’s safer for everyone if you’re more secure. You’re safe, though, alright? And I’m not mad. I… I am sorry for making you watch that footage. It wasn’t far, to push you like that.” 

23 blinked up at him, stomach full, body aching but warm in its covers, and wondered why the Flash was apologizing. He did nothing wrong. He showed him a terrible truth. 23 may not have liked it, but that didn’t matter. 

“I’m sorry I ran,” 23 said instead.  

He was hugged. He hugged the Flash back, his body already much stronger than it had been an hour ago. 

“It’s okay, kid. I already told you, I’m not mad. You’re in a confusing new place. I can’t blame you for getting scared and running. I just… it can’t happen again.” 

“I know… I’m sorry.” 

“Shhh, no more of that. Here, I got you something,” the Flash leaned back into the plastic bags of food, pulling out some documents. But as he was handed them, he tilted his head in confusion.

 He’d seen his superiors reading over long tight-texted papers all the time, but these papers were bold and vibrant, with huge words on the cover that he couldn’t decipher But the images… the bold hero on the cover was illustrated, made of colors and lines in a way that 23 did not realize they could be used. 

He opened the documents. More pictures filled the pages, text pocketed throughout. He may not have understood the words, but he realized that the images were telling some kind of linear narrative. It was confusing and made his eyes strain, but he was intrigued. The Flash chuckled, smiling at him, and 23’s chest filled with something bright. 

“I’m glad you like them. Robin decided to gift them to you. They’re yours, kid. When you’re done, I can get more. Or maybe some books if you have an interest,” he chuckled. “I know comics are more fun though.” 

A comic. That’s what this was. He didn’t have a name for it, and now that he did, it felt good. Even if he didn’t understand, like with everything in this world, he could still enjoy it. He smiled. “Thank you, sir.” 

“You’re welcome, kid. Get some sleep, okay? I’ll be back in a few hours to check in and see how you’re doing. You’ll eat for me when I get back?” he asked, voice taking on a stubborn tone, like that of a superior but kinder.

23 nodded, feeling warm at the question. He would have to get used to being so spoiled with food. He didn’t understand why the Flash thought he deserved it, but 23 was too selfish to want to let go. The Flash smiled, ruffled his growing hair, and promised to be back soon. 

23 watched him go, not wanting to see him leave, but a warm seed blossoming in his comfortable stomach. He was warm. The Flash had taken him back in even after his escape. He wasn't punished. He had been fed. 

23 closed his eyes in the gentle quiet, a small part of him panicking that this was all a fantasy - some death dream that’d been induced when he’d been decommissioned. He was able to wade through the panic.

 If this was a fantasy, he thought, then he would happily die right now, just for having gotten the chance to feel cared for. 

It had been a few days. 

He regained his lost weight incredibly fast, and used that to reason away his guilt for over-eating as necessary. The Flash was still kind, and still did the things that 23 had feared would be taken away - the gentle touches, the smiles, the way his chest warmed every time the door opened, knowing he wasn’t going to be hurt. 

23 was pretty quiet. But he had a lot to think about, especially with what Red Arrow had explained to him. He wanted to ask The Flash about it outright but refrained, still feeling nervous around the man and his eccentricities. 

But when the door opened that morning, instead of his red superior, it was Robin. 23, who had taken to sitting on his bed and exploring his comics, dropped the documents and stood upright, a bit startled by the disruption in routine. 

He hadn’t been expecting the… Well, he still didn’t know where Robin sat in the hierarchy. Nobody ever called him by his job title. 

Robin smiled as the door shut behind him. “It’s alright, Mini-Flash. You can keep reading. You enjoying the comics?” he asked casually, and 23 was grateful he stayed by the door. 

23 gently stacked the documents and set them on his nightstand. The Flash had brought it in yesterday, along with a lamp for if he wanted to stay up after lights out. 

Though 23 had yet to test that boundary, having been too scared to turn the lamp on last night. He knew the Flash wouldn’t hurt him, but he still wasn’t ready to take too much. He already took the food so greedily…

“Uh, so I heard you met Red Arrow. Hope he wasn’t too harsh, guy likes to play the tough vigilante trope,” Robin said in the stretch of silence. 

23 didn’t know what trope meant, but he knew vigilante. The Commander didn’t like them, but Red Arrow didn’t seem that bad. He had shown mercy to a stranger and was kind despite his gruffness. 

“I like him,” 23 said. “He was nice.” 

Robin looks surprised. 23 tried to hide his amusement at that, not sure why he liked seeing Robin’s cool facade crumble. It wasn’t necessarily a mean-spirited amusement, and he almost wished he could tease Robin for it instead, so that Robin would consider it a proper quip. Maybe he would smile. But he bit his tongue. 

“Really?” Robin asked, he stepped further in. Just a few feet. “He didn’t throw you to the ground or anything rough? Because if he did, I can chew him out for it.” 

It was 23’s turn to blink in surprise. There was no need for Robin to do that. “No. He sat with me. And talked. He was good at explaining things,” 23 said, gauging Robin’s reaction. 

The masked kid grinned. “Yeah, Red is great at explaining things. Better than Flash, I bet,” he laughed, and even though 23 found humor in that statement, he didn’t want to laugh at his superior. Robin cleared his throat. “What kind of things did you two talk about?”

23 was quiet for a moment. Red Arrow had proven to him just how ignorant he was of the world. His context for things had been assumptions and overheard conversations he already couldn’t grasp. He felt his face heat up. Robin leaned forward and asked if he was okay.  And for the first time in his life, 23 decided to explain how he felt, a part of him wanting that strange openness Red Arrow had offered. 

“I’m struggling to understand what’s real. I was lied to. And then I saw things that were bad and now I just feel confused,” 23 admitted. Robin’s eyes widened again, but then he nodded, expression looking relieved. 

“That’s okay. I can try to help make sense of things. If you want.” 

23 eyed him, a bit wary of more mockery, but wanting to understand so badly, he risked embarrassment. “I was made in the Flash’s image,” he said slowly. When Robin nodded, he kept going. 

“And I was raised to be as strong and as fast as him. I grew up hearing about him, about how I needed to be better to be like him, that it was what I existed for.” 

He paused. “But no one ever told me directly why I was made. I just assumed that The Flash was good because I had to be like him. I made assumptions about everything, and I think I was wrong about everything. And I’m embarrassed and confused and this world is scary because I don’t know the boundaries and no one has hurt me but that’s how I know where the lines are and-” 

He cut himself off just before he verged in speed talk, his voice flooding with emotions he didn’t have names for, intense and bad. 

“You’re okay, dude. It’s good you say these things. Here, take a breath. Breathe with me,” Robin used his hand to motion the length of every intake and outtake. 23 followed his movements, realizing he’d started crying and feeling another wash of shame ran through him. 

“No one has hurt you here because our punishments don’t involve pain. Our superiors don’t believe that it’s beneficial to the growth of their students,” Robin said, and 23 paused at the straightforward, almost clinical way he delivered the information.  

“Why?” he asked, thinking he may have been too forceful in the word. But Robin was unphased and simply answered. 

“Well, for example, my superior is Batman.” 

Batman? “The shadow man?” he asked, then wanted to take it back. But Robin only barked out a surprised laugh, highly amused. 

“Haha, yeah, the shadow man. He pretty much raised me, and though he’s strict, he doesn’t harm me because he wants my respect. Not my fear. I have free will to follow him. I do so because I think he’s a great leader. I want to learn from him.”

“If the Commander was not scary, he wouldn’t have others following him,” 23 argued. He knew for a fact that The Light would not be held together by respect alone. It would fall apart. “Fear is necessary.” 

“To the Light it is. To us, we value respect. Things can be different in other places.” 

23 looked down. Yes. This place was different. Looking at it from the perspective of the Light’s way of living had been leaving him frustratingly confused. He thought back on what Red Arrow said. He almost opened his mouth to ask, but then thought of Red Arrow’s restrained laughter and feared Robin’s reaction. Instead, he merely nodded. 

“I’m… trying to understand. It’s hard to accept the Flash’s kindness. I don’t want him to hurt me, but sometimes I wish he would, so I knew where his boundaries were. He’s… he’s really lenient.” 

“I know it’s hard to grasp, but the Flash really cares about you,” Robin said, and 23’s chest warmed deeply at the statement. “The Flash has a good heart. He cares about people and it hurts him to see others in pain. He wants you to have lots of food and not be in pain, because it hurts him that you never got that.” 

23 closed his eyes. That’s what caring was, right? That embodied all the things Red listed about moms and dads. He shook his head, confused. 

“But why does he think I’m a child?” 23 asked. 

Robin smiled sadly. “To him, you are. The Flash is older than you and he’s a speedster. He sees you as someone who is still learning to grasp their powers. He wants to help you. Even if you don’t fully understand it, you don’t have to. You just have to accept that the Flash wants to help because those are his morals, and the understanding will come with time.”

The understanding will come with time. He had been pondering that sentiment for a while now. Now that Robin had voiced the musing aloud, he was less hesitant to embrace it. “Okay… Thank you, Robin.” 

Robin smiled brightly, as if 23 had something worth that. “No problem, Mini-Flash. Speaking of, I wanted to ask you about your designation.” 

“23,” he said, thinking Robin was asking for it. 

“Yes. But what if you had something other than a designation, like a personal name?” 

23 shook his head. “I’m 23. That’s who I am. I…” he paused, but Robin was nice and open and seemed to prefer upfront words. “I don’t like that no one calls me by 23. I am only called kid. The Flash said a kid was a child. But I am not a child. I have a designation already. I’m not nameless.”

“Sure. But Robin is what I use out here on the field, but I have another name for friends. In this place, our designations are for professional use. And we’re friends, right? So if I told you my name, maybe you can pick one out too!”

“I… 23. That is my name,” he said, feeling uneasy, though a bit distracted that Robin called them friends. He hadn’t considered that they were. Friends were another concept he wasn’t certain he understood clearly, but this time, he hoped he was right. He hoped a friend meant a willing companion. 

“It’s your field name, dude. But here, everyone has a personal name. Even the Flash.”

23 stared in shock. “He… he has another name?” 

“Yeah, for friends and family… But he can’t share it because you haven’t given your personal name yet,” Robin said, a sly tilt taking on his voice. 23 sat up even straightener. 

“I don’t have one though!” He was brimming with curiosity. What even was a personal name? Only friends and family knew about it? He may not understand the exact definition, but he knew he was selfish enough to want to be close enough to the Flash to be considered so. 

“Well, you can choose any name you want!” Robin smiled. “You can make one up or choose one you’ve heard before. If you want I can help you think of one, or you can think it over for a while. You don’t have to choose now.” 

He wanted to know the Flash’s personal name. He felt a deep-shard of contempt for himself, that a soldier shouldn’t dare pry into the lives of their superiors, but he was curious. And curiosity always had a stranglehold on him.  

But when he thought about it… he could think of nothing. He knew of names. The Light had them. But he’d heard them use other names before in rare passings, names that sounded too personal for him to have listened in on. Nothing he liked.  

“I can’t think of any.”

“Do you want me to give you ideas? Or maybe I can bring in a book of names? You can look it over and see if one feels right,” Robin suggested. 

23’s chest tightened. He didn’t want to admit his faults. For how nice Robin was, for how uncruel his actions proved, 23 felt more ashamed than ever to admit his failings. He already confessed how ignorant he was. 

“Y-yes. Please,” he nodded his thanks, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. 

“Cool. I’ll come by tomorrow evening. The Flash is coming in to bring you breakfast after I leave.”

Breakfast - morning rations that weren’t gray or bland. His mouth watered at the thought, and though he felt bad that Robin was leaving, he grew excited at the sight of red when the door opened. Along with the smell of that egg and ham concoction he’d grow to love. Robin waved him goodbye, just as The Flash entered with that warm smile, greeting him hello. 

23 tentatively matched that smile, and The Flash seemed to beam brighter at the simple gesture. 23’s gut warmed in that good way, and as he took his first few bites of wonderful tasty food, he realized he wasn't feeling that familiar shame that came with gorging himself in front of someone. 23 felt a sudden swell of gratitude, and he felt himself wanting to thank the Flash again for the meal. 

“T-thank you! For the food.” 

The Flash ruffled his hair in response, and said, “I’m just taking care of you, kid. I’m happy seeing you eat.”

The Flash was happy that he ate. He was happy to see him smile. 23 didn’t understand any of this, but that was okay. Like Robin said, maybe in time, this would feel normal. Maybe in time, he’d understand why this man cared so much.

Chapter Text

23 liked the comic, even if he didn’t understand the majority of it. There was still enjoyment to be gleaned in between the colorful pages. And the more he flipped through the images, the more he understood a bit of the portrayed story. Or at least, he understood the main character’s emotional arcs. 

The drawn character was angry and in pain. He was rejected by those around him, his peers, and underestimated by his superiors. It took 23 several times, going back and forth through the pages, before  he could unwind the story by the actions and emotions in the illustrated faces.

 Real people were hard to read, but these drawings were heavily exaggerated and bold, allowing 23 a much easier time to (hopefully) guess the correct sentiment. He could tell when the character was determined, or angry, or happy, or hopeless. Beyond assumptions and implications, though, just like the rest of his life, 23 wasn’t positive that he understood the full picture. 

That was okay. He didn’t really understand the comic, but he liked it. He really liked sitting in the quiet stillness, the stiff turn of the page against his thumb, engrossed in the details and linework of these drawings that 23 was awed by.

 The words on the other hand (the little scribblings of unknown content that he couldn’t begin to comprehend) were frustrating and annoying. 23 didn’t like that he had context right in front of his face, yet couldn’t decipher it. He glanced to the side at the huge book of names that Robin had brought over the other day. 

23 had yet to crack it open, feeling overwhelmed by the wall of text, full of names for him to choose from, to give himself a secret to share with Robin and Flash, and yet he shied away from it like it was a snarling animal. 23 still hadn’t admitted that he couldn’t read.

 He felt random spikes of anxiety as he tried to relax with the comic, fearful that he’d be found out soon. He was more scared of embarrassment than any kind of pain, and that in itself made him feel more flustered.

  If the Commander could see him now, smiling over still images and worrying over meaningless words… 23 frowned. The urge to bite the back of his hand returned, though it been far and in between the need to do so. 

He hadn’t let himself think of the Commander for days. He had slowly let the bloody evidence of the Light’s carnage trickle back into his head, letting himself process the videos he was shown, basically one frame at a time. His hand twitched at his side. He forced it to stay there. 

The Commander had hurt innocents.  

23’s frowned deepened. He stared at the comic page of the protagonist fighting a villain, their outfit like that of a human hawk. The hawk villain was scary and large, but the smaller protagonist was defending himself with a determined look on his face. Maybe he was hiding his fear. Maybe he felt none at all. 

23 placed a hand over his heart, feeling the up-tick of its beat. 

He wondered, in a voice that sounded like a tiny traitor, What would I do if I saw the Commander again? His heart rate picked up faster, throat slowly growing tight with a sickly pressure.

 23 closed the comic. He was done thinking for today.

He didn’t like this. The door had opened. The shadowman - Batman - had entered in that silently intimidating walk that made him look more like a looming storm cloud than a man. 

23 had tried to hide the surprise on his face, and the shock of fear running up his spine. He’d only seen Robin and The Flash these last few days, and despite starting to feel cooped up, he had enjoyed the limited company. He awkwardly inclined his head in greeting. 

“Sir,” he said. 

“At ease, 23,” Batman said. 

23 felt his chest loosen a bit at being addressed by his title. He felt a little more grounded, feeling more familiar with being treated as a soldier. “I wanted to speak to you myself. To apologize." 

23 had been prepared to open his mouth, to rattle off a generic answer to some simple question, thinking this was just a routine check in with a superior. He blinked. Batman’s ever stern face didn’t change. 

“I misunderstood the extent of how much the Light kept you ignorant. Robin explained you had never seen violence like that before,” Batman knelt suddenly. 23 flinched, thinking he was about to be struck in his stupor, but the man only fell to be eye level, the edges of his thin lips softening a little. 

“You shouldn’t have been carelessly exposed to the truth like that. It wasn’t fair. I’m sorry,” the man said again, and again, 23 was in shock that a superior was apologizing. 

Then again, the Flash had done so much outside the realm of normality, that 23 wasn’t as shocked as he should have been. He felt himself nod, not sure how to respond, his throat feeling terribly dry. Batman gave him the moment to speak before moving on, voice turning a bit more firm. 

“We also need to discuss some hard rules for you to follow. Though, I have a feeling you won’t have an issue with that.” 

23 immediately shook his head. “No, sir.” 

“Good. Rule one: no running away. If you feel the need to be alone, if you become overwhelmed, you are to inform That Flash and return to this room.”

23 swallowed thickly and nodded. His stomach burned at the reminder of his repeated mistake. “Y-yes, sir.” 

Batman nodded. “And rule two: if you don’t understand something, you have to tell a superior. You will not be harmed for asking questions.”

That was a harder rule to follow, but… but he could try. If his superiors ordered it of him, he had no choice. He nodded with verbal affirmation this time. Batman gave him a moment to internally calm himself, and he was both grateful for it but alarmed at how easily the man could read him. 

“Can you follow those two rules, 23?”

He dipped his head. “Yes, sir. I can. I will.” 

“Good. Do you have any questions for me right now? As I said, nothing you ask will result in punishment.”

23 wanted to believe him. He did. But apprehension sat heavy in his gut and he wished the Flash were here instead. Or Red Arrow. He had no idea what it was about the vigilante, but despite the tough exterior and gruff voice, he didn’t set off the alarm bells in 23’s head that superior officers usually did - and for a clone, almost everyone was a superior in one way or another. 

He shook his head. “No, sir. Not now, I mean. I understand the rules.” 

“Very good.” Batman stood, and if 23 had been paying attention, he might have caught the flash of awkwardness the man failed to hide at the pause of dead air. “While I’ll allow you your rest now, if you wish to exercise, simply ask the Flash. We’ll trust you’ll adhere to rule one,” he said it like a statement, like he trusted 23 despite the evidence. 

Batman’s eyes flashed to the comics laid out on his bed. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, 23.” 

And he left, leaving 23 standing there. He glanced back at his comic, to the book of names, then to the ceiling. He thought on the shadowman’s offer. And if he was confident enough, maybe he would ask the Flash to stretch his legs. 

His head fell to look at the door. His stomach gave a sharp twist at the thought of speaking up. But he had permission. It would be fine, right? The twist in his gut loosened a bit, considering how the Flash would react to such a request. The Flash would… light up. He would smile and maybe ruffle 23’s hair. He would be happy that 23 asked… right? 

23 stood there, stuck in a daze. Stuck in the ocean of his own indecision. And then the door opened. He flinched, unveiling open surprise across his usual mask, as the very man he contemplated walked in. Flash had brought breakfast. 23 momentarily forgot his question as he ate, listening to The Flash complain about work he didn’t understand. The League seemed to like paperwork. 

But when the food was done and his hands were left free, he felt himself biting his lip, that question returning now that his hunger was sated. He shouldn’t have, but nerves made him eager to get it over with and he cut off The Flash mid-sentence. 

“I… May I see Robin? Sir?” he stammered hopelessly. 

His face went red, and he desperately wished he’d never spoken, the feeling igniting the moment he opened his stupid mouth. He clamped his teeth shut, heart hammering at how brazen he’d been - at how he’d cut off his own superior to express such a selfish, stupid, needless want-

“Of course!” The Flash was smiling brighter than he had this last week. “The kids are in the training room with Canary right now. You wanna spar with them or wait this afternoon to visit Robin alone? You don’t have to meet him only during training. I’m sure he’d love to hang out, show you those games he likes so much-”

The Flash had started rambling, but 23 barely heard him, swamped by all the presented options, his selfish question having just opened him to more choices. He didn’t know what games meant in this context, but he was sure they weren’t like Klarion’s painful ones. Nothing here seemed painful. 

He felt his tongue go dry at the options. The Flash frowned at his face and 23 grew even more upset at himself, angry that he made that smile falter. 

“Kid? Hey, it’s alright. Am I being too much? That’s okay,” The Flash’s smile returned, soft and patient. 23 felt his chest twinge in guilt, undeserving of this, but latching onto it all the same. 

“I… would like to train,” 23 said carefully, intently studying the Flash’s face as did. He read every twitch and minuscule change, trying to gauge if that smile was authentic, if he was messing things up further by speaking out of turn-

“Yes! Okay, yeah, let’s go,” The Flash’s voice was enthusiastic. He sounded excited by 23’s choice. That guilt tripled. 23 swallowed it down, unable to smile, but able to nod. 

“Thank you,” he said softly. The Flash embraced him - a hug, and 23 felt his tension loosen up as a hand ran through his hair. It had gotten long enough that sometimes, 23 was startled by the color in the mirror. 

“You’re doing great, kid. I hope you know, I’m proud of you,” The Flash stood. 

23 was reluctant to release the hug, but warmed at the statement. His lips twitched into a small smile and it stayed as he followed his superior - his dad - into the hallway.  

The training room was like the last one he ran into. The soldiers were in sparring matches, paired off into duos overseen by what looked like another superior - a blonde woman who The Flash mentioned was Black Canary. They stood off to the side, watching them finish their matches. 23 caught a few looks his way, but otherwise, the soldiers were focused on each other. 

He couldn’t help but follow Robin’s quick, nimble movements as he fought with the large black-shirted soldier. 23 wanted to understand how Robin fought a bit better, just in case they sparred today. His chest itched at the idea, which was odd, because 23 never looked forward to training with anyone… at least, not under The Light. 

He watched Robin swipe the soldier’s feet out from under him after an expert dodge. Their superior raised her hand, their match having been the last to end, and clapped once. 

“Good job, guys. Go ahead and take a break,” her blue eyes stopped over him and the Flash. She walked over. 23 stiffened. The Flash placed a hand on his shoulder and waved at the woman. She smiled back, offering one to 23 too. He felt too nervous to do more than a polite nod of his head. 

“Flash. I see you brought your kid,” she said, a teasing edge to her tone. The Flash waved her off, but the statement had made him smile. 23’s gut squirmed. A kid was a child, right? Was Flash confirming he wanted 23 as his child, or was it just a use of the nickname he’d been designated with? 23 felt his jaw clench. He wished Red Arrow were nearby.

“Kid?” The Flash prompted. 23 resisted the urge to jump, looking up at his voice. 

“Sir?” He asked. 

“Canary is asking if you’d like to join the rest of the session,” he said. 

He assumed that was the reason they were here. He wasn’t sure why he was being asked twice. He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” 

Canary blinked, then laughed. “No ma’am. Alright? You can call me Canary. But it’s refreshing to hear the respect,” she turned, gesturing for them to follow.

The soldiers were sitting around, wiping sweat off with towelettes and draining water bottles. Robin grinned and waved at 23. 23 looked at the Flash, and at his easy expression, waved back. Robin seemed to take that as an invitation to jump to his feet and run over, even as one of the other soldiers told him to come back. Robin ignored the order. The Flash didn’t reprimand him, and though Canary seemed irritated by his butting in, she didn’t stop him either. 

“Robin. You know the kid well, right?” Canary asked. “Why don’t you two take the floor, show me how he fights?” 

“What do you say?” Robin asked 23, even though he should be addressing his superior. 

23 nervously looked to Canary, but she gestured her head at Robin, expecting a response. He nodded. The other soldiers had stood and were watching from the sidelines. The Flash was several feet away from him - too far - and 23 felt like wilting under the attention. Maybe he should have asked the Flash if he could meet with Robin alone. 

“Okay,” he nodded. 

Robin’s smile didn’t falter, but it did seem to stiffen at 23’s lackluster response. Then he bounded backward, flipping dramatically and needlessly onto the mat. “Alright then, Mini-Flash! It’s been too long,” his smile turned mischievous. “I’ve been wondering if you were scared of a rematch.” 

There was that feeling again. It smothered his worry of being under the spot-light - a riled excitement at proving Robin wrong. He knew Robin was throwing out his “quips”, that it was for the purpose of irritation… but 23 would admit that the teasing gave him an itch to smile. He wanted to win, but it wasn’t born out of anger or fear or anything negative. 

“You’re too small to be scared of,” 23 found himself saying. 

There was a beat of silence, and he held his breath, startled by the sudden laugh of the Flash. The other soldiers had more decency to stifle their chuckles or simply smile. 23 felt his chest ignite at the attention. He had hated it seconds ago… but now it felt… good. He made people laugh. He used a “quip” correctly. 

He locked eyes with Robin. The soldier hadn’t been at all offended by his mockery. He looked elated to have heard it. 

“I’m gonna make you eat those words, Mini-Flash,” he grinned, fists raising. 23 matched him. He’d used that phrasing before. ‘Eating the floor’ was the last spar’s quip. That must have implied that Robin was going to win. He didn’t completely understand, but that was okay. He understood enough to reply. 

“You can try, Mini-Batman,” he said.

 It felt a little flat when it left his lips, but it still made Robin laugh. Even the black-shirted soldier, who hadn’t so much as cracked a smile since they’d met, snorted into his hand. 

Canary rolled her eyes as she lifted her hand and called the match. Robin was the first to move. He had been much more defensive with the other soldier, but here, he put 23 on that side. The clone deflected his wild kicks and uppercuts. 

He wasn’t told to not use his speed, but 23 refrained from doing so, finding great satisfaction in dodging without it. He didn’t have to be vicious or be forced to bear through pain. He and Robin were just… dancing around each other, 23 more mechanically, but both developing a tempo between them.

 It didn’t feel like training. Klarion often described himself as having fun, giggling when he pulled a cruel prank… this wasn’t cruel or bloody or scary, but 23 thought he must be having fun. He realized he'd already felt this feeling once before, running with The Flash in the training room. 

 His face was flushed and his breath was steady. It felt good to stretch his legs and arms. When 23 landed a punch on Robin, making him stumble back, he froze up in worry, having been so lost in their tandem that he hit harder than he’d meant. 

“Are you okay?” He stepped forward. 

Robin had a pained look on his face, but the mask disappeared as he smiled and moved so quickly, he could have been an honorary speedster. 23 tried to step back, to raise his arms, but Robin caught him off guard and kicked out a leg before throwing an arm to his neck. His arm looped and threw 23 into the ground, the clone rolling over with a groan as he realized Robin had used his sympathy against him. He looked up at the soldier. Robin had a hand out.

“Good match,” he said. 

23 took his hand, a bit embarrassed he lost. “Uh, yes. You too,” he said awkwardly, now hyper aware of their audience. The spell of the spar was over and he was back in the training room, back with an unfamiliar superior and soldiers he still didn’t know the names of. The Flash came over, easing his stage fright with a hand to his shoulder. 

“Good job, kid,” he said, even though 23 failed. “Let’s get you water and calories.”

“And after, I want to see him against some of the others,” Canary called out. 23 blinked at her, then the Flash. He thought he was only going to spar with Robin. He was used to Robin. He only just started to understand quips, and there was no way he had the nerve to try them on any other soldier.

“Uh, maybe next time,” The Flash said, that hand offered a few grounding pats. “Kid has had a long day.” 

“I… I don’t mind,” 23 spoke up, voice near a whisper. He kept his eyes on the Flash the whole time, nervous but unsurprised when the man only ruffled his hair, as if proud of him for speaking up, for wanting to stay despite his discomfort. 

“Alright then. Sit out this match and I’ll pull you in next,” Canary said, calling up the green soldier and the gilled one. 

They took to the center mat as the rest watched. 23 was too nervous to pay attention. He was focused on the comforting presence of the Flash beside him, and the delicious training bars he was always allowed. He ate it in between sips of water. 

Robin kept trying to get his attention across the room, having been thrown back by his superior when he tried to wander over. Canary seemed to prefer actions over words, but she was never cruel in her handling. Just very stern. 23 risked a small wave in his direction. Robin lit up at the attention, before the blonde soldier leaned over and asked him something. They started to talk, and 23 felt himself look away, suddenly self-conscious of himself. 

Were they talking about him? What did the others think of him? Robin and him never really talked about anything outside of 23’s own questions, and it was usually related to The Flash or asking about rules or vague concepts he didn’t understand. 

23 felt a little bad all of a sudden. Maybe he should ask Robin more about himself. He seemed to have a large life, extending beyond these walls. 23 had never really thought about it. This place allowed so many freedoms, that several questions popped into his head:

Did the superiors allow these soldiers to leave the base? Did they have complex lives, the kind that Klarion and Queen Bee and the Commander had? Did they get to be more than their titles? Robin had talked about secret names, about friends and family. Did a secret name give you access to the more complex layers of life?

23’s life was already more complicated, in many good ways, and he wondered what other good things he didn’t know about. There were probably lots. 

“One more, then you're up,” The Flash gently tapped his arm, handing him another bar. 

23 shook himself from his buzzing head, grateful for the distraction. He watched the spar end in a draw, a bit disappointed in himself for not paying attention, for not familiarizing himself with their fighting styles. But now he was up, and he walked forward at The Flash’s reassuring push. Canary waved over another soldier to meet him in the middle - the large black-shirted one with the stoic face. 

“Conner. Go easy on him,” Canary smiled at the soldier, and 23’s nerves twitched. 

Was Conner a dangerous fighter? He looked dangerous, and as he raised his fists into position, 23 noted how smooth and measured his motions were - the minuscule rigidity of a one born a soldier, just like him.

 23 recalled this Conner talking to him when they snuck into his room, back when 23 still didn’t understand where he was. Conner had said something about being a clone as well, and had spoken with such sincerity that 23 felt bad looking at the cold, indifferent face. Would Conner have looked more kind if 23 hadn’t attacked them? Had Conner tried to offer a branch of true peace that 23 carelessly stomped on? Was he still upset about it? 

23 raised his fists. His mind was whirling today. He wished it’d stop. He nearly missed the call to start, and backpedaled to miss the rush of wind by his ear, Conner having rushed him with speed not matching his looming stature.

23 was almost caught off guard. Almost. He displaced a strike and tried to gain the upper hand, but Conner recovered with every deflect. It almost felt like he was allowing 23 to deflect them, probably hiding just how strong he really was. 23 didn’t think he was having fun. 

He felt his hackles raise a little as he struggled to keep up, the familiar fear of being beaten for failure trying to rear its head. 23 had to shove it down, to remain in the present and listen as Canary offered tips between the two of them. 

Then 23 got a hit. 

He didn’t mean to. He saw an opening and took it, expecting a deflection. Unlike this Robin though, Conner didn’t stumble. His face didn’t even turn, that indifference expression remained fixed in place. 23 tried not to let it trip him up. He fell back to block the kick and following strike, but his heart started to pound, the rush of it building to his ears. 

The soldier’s face flashed between their limbs. For a moment, he forgot he was with the League. He forgot this soldier’s name, the cold expression perfectly slotted into the memory of a nameless guard. 

The guard broke through his defense, striking his side. Another hit on his shoulder. 23’s heart was pounding now. He was messing up. He was slacking in his training and it was showing in his performance. 

His stomach felt too full. He felt nauseous. Bloated.  

The guard’s expression tightened. 23’s fear nearly imploded. He was faltering. He was going to be reported for his mistakes. He knew important eyes were on him, watching. In his growing panic, those eyes belonged to The Commander. 23 couldn’t fail this test. He failed so many already. He’d been really bad.

He put more strength into his next punch. The guard paused, just a millisecond in his defense. The guard's next kick was stronger too, and 23 felt his heels drag across the ground as he blocked it. He grit his teeth. 

He’d been lazy. He’d been slacking. 

He couldn’t falter - he needed to be better. 

The guard’s cold face leveled with his as he rose out of his strike, and 23 rushed forward to take the opening, driving his knee into the guard’s gut and striking him across the face. It had enough force to send him into the ground. The guard rolled immediately back to his feet and there was a voice, a sharp female voice saying something, but 23 didn’t hear it. 

He had to finish the set. He had to go until the Commander told him to stop. He jumped at the guard. His face had the audacity to look surprised, as if he didn’t know how things worked around here, as if he wouldn’t be punished for his ineptitude by the very man watching them now. 

He struck once. Then twice. Then again, and again, breaking a few hits through the guard’s thrown up arms as he added more strength behind every consecutive hit. There were voices buzzing around him and he dismissed them as his own head, constantly moving and thinking and rebelling and-

“23! That is an order! Off!” The voice was sharp and angry. 23 looked up. Red. There was red. His mind whirled. This wasn’t the Commander. He looked down, fist still raised, too see Conner staring up at him, his expression unreadable. 23 snapped upright, off the other. 

“Sir. I-I didn’t - I’m sorry-” he stammered out. 

The Flash stared at him for a moment, as if he didn’t know what to say, before he looked down. “Conner, are you alright?” 

“I’m fine,” the soldier stated. 

“Okay. Good…I…” He trailed off, standing straight and nodding at Canary, who looked just as surprised by the whole ordeal as the other soldiers. 

“Sorry to interrupt. Thanks for having us,” The Flash’s voice was tight. Clipped.  He placed a hand on 23’s shoulder, leading him to the door without further preamble. His voice was stiffer than he’d ever heard it. 

23 stared at the floor. He could feel the eyes on him, especially Robin’s, but shame pooled in his gut. Conner and Robin were close. 23 just went beyond the spar and attacked Conner. Robin must be angry right now. The Flash certainly seemed so. He was quiet as he walked him down the hall. There was no smile on his face. 23’s insides crumbled. 

They walked back in silence. It was louder than any reprimand or cruel remark he’d ever experienced. His body felt cold. He didn’t mean to. He almost wished The Flash would turn around and yell at him, say that he did bad and punish him. If he punished him, they could move on, right? 23 didn’t break this growing thing between them, did he? 

His eyes felt hot. He held himself together though. At least until they reached his room. But there was someone waiting there, arms crossed, face set in the permanent scowl that turned towards their footsteps. 23 hadn’t expected Red Arrow. The vigilante was casually hanging in the hallway of the League, as if he was allowed here. 

“Red,” Flash greeted, voice still tight. “I’m sorry, but now is not a good time.” 

“Something happen?” Red Arrow asked, eyes narrowing between the two. 

“Like I said, now’s not a good time. Maybe later, okay?” 

Red Arrow didn’t move. “Looks like the perfect time, actually. Why don’t I talk to him?”

“No- Red,” Flash’s vice rose in frustration. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s not- safe right now, okay? We- I already have to go to Bats and he’s sure to add more security details and-” he sighed, 23’s heart beating faster with every irritated word. His gut churned at the idea that Flash didn’t trust him anymore, that he was scared he’d harm his other students… 23 really wished he hadn’t woken up this morning. 

“Let me talk to him,” Red Arrow said, eyes flickering to 23. 

“Red-” 

“Flash. Let me talk to him. Alone. Please,” the man pressed, voice holding more resolve than the Flash was able. Said man sighed again and gave a short nod. He placed a hand on 23’s shoulder. 

“Kid… You’ll be good?” he asked, and 23 hated the hesitance in his voice. 

23 nodded stiffly. “Yes, sir,” he forced out. 

Flash nodded, closing his eyes. He looked pained. 23 hated that. “Alright. I’ll be back soon. Just… just be good,” he repeated, voice sounded painfully lost, something The Flash was  never supposed to sound. And then with obvious reluctance, he turned, leaving 23 to follow Red Arrow into his quiet room. 

23’s feet felt like stone. And so did his heart. 

As soon as the door shut, 23 couldn’t help the question bubbling on his lips. “I thought you weren’t with the League,” he said, voice a little hurt, scared he’d been lied to again. Red shot him a thin smile, as if the very idea were preposterous. 

“I’m not, 23. And I don’t make visits either. I came here to see you,” he uncrossed his arms, leaning against the wall. “So? What happened between you and dad?” he asked. 

23 wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the nonchalant tone, or that he’d already opened up to Red Arrow, or just because he felt ready to burst at the seams - but 23 felt his face crumple. He opened his mouth to spill the rattling in his head. 

“I attacked Conner,” he admitted, voice almost too fast to comprehend. “I attacked him and The Flash is really mad.” 

There was no disappointment or anger on Red Arrow’s face. Instead, he actually laughed. “Ha! That’s it? Come on, 23, that’s nothing. I’ve lost my cool and attacked at least half the members in this building. Back when I was a sidekick,” he added. 

23 didn’t know what a sidekick was. He didn’t have to ask. Red Arrow just looked at his face and knew to say, “It’s what Robin is to Batman. I used to be the Green Arrow’s sidekick but…. I didn’t belong here. Had a falling out and left.” 

23 didn’t feel much better. If Red Arrow left because he acted out, wouldn’t 23 have to leave if he couldn’t control himself. His eyes grew wet. Red leaned forward, hands outward.

“No, no, none of that, come on,” he said, losing the cool edge to his words. “Look, 23. What I’m trying to explain is, you made a mistake. I messed up on purpose. I did things my own way. I was loud and reckless. And despite all that, I was never kicked out. I left on my own. But I’m still welcome back, even though I left on bad terms.”

“The Flash is mad,” 23 repeated. It was the only thing he could think of, the only thing that seemed to matter. He didn’t see how the Flash could forgive him. He seemed so upset in the hallway, so disappointed, that he couldn’t even look at 23. 

Red Arrow pursed his lips. “Why’d you attack Conner?” 

23 looked up as if he’d been accused, but at Red Arrow’s passive look, he relaxed. Just a little. “I forgot where I was,” he said, unable to keep his gaze up. “Conner fought like… like a guard. It wasn’t like with Robin, it- I don’t know what happened. I thought the Commander was in the room and I just…” He closed his eyes, unable to finish the thought. “I messed up.” 

“Ah, I see. Did Conner get hurt?” 

“No. I don’t think so.” 

“Then it’s fine. I know it seems like a big deal and all, but The Flash is only freaked out because he’s worried. He’s not mad at you, 23. He’s mad at the situation. He wants to help but he doesn’t always know how.”

Red Arrow sat up, studying 23’s uncertain face. “Look. You had a flashback. You thought you were back with the Light because the conditions lined up to replicate a memory. It’s okay, 23. The Flash will understand. And besides,” the Red Arrow crossed his arms and glared at the door, “It’s The Flash’s fault for throwing you in there with the rest of them. I told him to just keep it to you and Robin for now.” 

“You talk to him?” 23 asked, voice tiny. 

“I only started calling after meeting you. Needed to make sure they were treating you well,” Red Arrow said, then he readjusted his potion, sitting more forward. “Look. Let me see if I can explain this… The Flash pushed too hard. He didn’t mean to. He always has the best intentions, but he’s also a real optimist type. I don't think he considered that you wouldn’t feel overwhelmed, because you’ve done so well with me and Robin. He only wants to help, and sometimes he can get frustrated when things don’t work out. Not because he’s mad at you, but because he just wants you to be happy so badly. But that’s why I told him to leave, because the Flash will go for a run, think things over, and come back with a better head. I promise. He’s not going to stay upset. He’s your dad, right?” 

23 nodded, a tiny hopeful thing. 

“Well, dads always forgive their kids. And once he understands what happened, then you two can keep moving forward,” Red Arrow paused. “I won’t lie, 23, there will be more mistakes in the future. But it’s okay. I make mistakes all the time. I’ll make one tomorrow, I’m sure. But mistakes help us learn. They make us human.” 

I’m not human, he wanted to say, but Red Arrow’s words were actually comforting, and he didn’t want to cut them down. Instead, he wiped at his wet eyes and gave a nod. “He’ll forgive me?” 

“I was right last time, wasn’t I?” Red Arrow asked. 

“Yes… you were,” 23 nodded. 

“And I’ll be right this time too,” he said surely. “I know you’re feeling really bad right now, and things seem messed up, but they will be okay. The Flash would never leave you. He cares too much. The few times I called, he couldn’t stop talking about how great you were, and how happy he was to see you talking more.”

“He did?” 23 looked up, imagining The Flash giving him praise, even if he wasn’t in the room. As if he were someone to brag about. 

“Yep,” Red Arrow nodded. “He thinks very highly of you, 23.” 

He let the words sink in. The Flash did say those things but hearing it from Red Arrow made the doubt feel lighter. He looked up, studying the vigilante’s face and earning a, “What?” 

“I like talking to you,” 23 admitted. “… It’s like you’re able to read my mind. Are… are you able to?” he paused, but Red Arrow shook his head with a chuckle. 

“No. Not a mind reader. Just a guy with a bow.” 

“You have no powers?” 

“Nah, I don’t need them.” 

“Wow,” 23 didn’t mean to say it aloud, but he figured Red must have super strength or something, because he held himself so confidently. He lived alone and he fought alone. He had only himself to rely on. Red Arrow’s chuckle turned into a grin. 

“You’ll be okay, 23. I promise.” 

23’s constant doubts failed to convince him fully, but he still took comfort in the words.  He nodded, then bit his lip. While Red Arrow was here… maybe he could… 23 looked up. Red Arrow reached out his hand, as if asking for something. 

“Out with it. What’s bothering you, 23?” 

“I…” his voice went tiny, as if he were telling a secret. “I can’t read.” 

Red Arrow quirked a brow, absolutely no emotion crossing his face. “Oh. Okay. Do you want to learn?” 

23 went wide-eyed, a bit shocked at the lack of reaction. He had expected at least a little ridicule for his ignorance. “I-yes. Yes, I would.” 

Red Arrow smiled. “Alright then. I’ll make sure that happens. I’m not a great teacher but, uh, Robin might be a good choice.” 

“Robin will think I’m stupid,” he voiced the thought aloud, the one rattling in there for days now. 

Red Arrow rolled his eyes. “No, he won’t. He won’t make fun of you for this. If anyone would be eager to help, it’s Robin. He cares for you too, 23. He was actually jealous that you and I talked so much when we met,” he chuckled. 

23 swallowed thickly. “C-can you tell him?” he felt weak for asking, but there was relief when Red Arrow nodded. 

“Yeah, I’ll talk to the brat. But first, when Flash gets back, we need to talk to him together, alright? I won’t leave until you see that everything is back to normal.” 

23 was overwhelmed with gratitude. He wanted to embrace Red Arrow, but held himself back, not sure if it would be overboard. Like always, Red Arrow read his face and knew, opening his arms and gesturing. 23 smiled as he fell into the hug, the urge to cry slipping away as Red Arrow patted his back. 

“You’re alright, 23.” 

And even though his heart still felt heavy, still felt burdened, it felt lightened by this gifted support. Red Arrow held him for a while, before asking about his schedule and what he’d been doing since they’d met. Red Arrow didn’t seem very happy by his replies, and 23 stumbled over his words as he explained looking through the comic’s illustrations. 

“That’s all? I mean, I’m not mad at you, 23. I’m just annoyed that you haven’t been given more stimulus. This room is boring as hell. You need a console or something.” 

He didn't know what a console was. But before he could ask, the door’s lock made the familiar unlatching sound. 23 whirled around, grounded by Red Arrow’s hand on his shoulder. 

“You’re alright,” he said quietly, and 23 breathed out, trying to focus on those words as The Flash walked in. 

The Flash looked… not angry. He wasn’t smiling, but when he saw 23, his face had turned into something unguarded and gentle. 23 took another breath. 

“Hey, kid,” The Flash knelt, taking a breath of his own. “Look, I’m sorry I got upset. I’m not mad at you, I was just worried. Either you or Conner could have gotten hurt.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” 23 said. He didn’t know what else to say. 

“Can you explain to me what happened?” 

“Kid had a flashback,” Red Arrow stepped beside him. “He said he was fine when sparring with Robin, but it got too intense with Conner.”

The Flash looked from him to 23, a hurt expression crossing his face. “I see. I’m sorry. I should have… it’s obvious now- I just-” The Flash’s words fumbled together, and that pained look pinched his features. “You said you were okay with Robin?”

23 nodded. He didn't trust his voice. 

“Would you still like to see him? Outside of sparring?” 

23 glanced at Red Arrow. Red Arrow shook his head and stepped forward, taking the reigns. “No more sparring unless it’s with Robin, and even then, he needs more time outside of this room doing more than sitting around,” Red said, voice authoritative in a way that only superiors had. But Red Arrow wasn’t a superior and he wasn’t in the League. Yet he still talked to The Flash in such a tone.Red was either really brave or really stupid. The Flash didn’t seem upset by the tone at all. He just nodded, as if taking Red’s words to heart. 

“Yes, you’re right,” The Flash nodded. 

“I’m not done,” Red stated. “I’m not trying to be an asshole, but I found out the kid is only getting reading materials to keep from being bored. But Flash, he can’t read.” 

“What?” The Flash’s face fell as he looked at 23, who immediately ducked his head in shame. “Kid, I didn’t know-  I thought-” 

“We can’t assume anything about him,” Red Arrow injected again. “23 thinks the world of you, Flash. He cared about you more than himself. All he wants is to do right by you, but you have to explain things. You have to over-explain and let him ask questions, and answer them like you’re speaking to an alien from another world, because honestly, 23 knows less than that,” Red Arrow caught his eyes, “No offense, 23.”

 23 wasn’t sure if he should be offended or not. He knew what aliens were, The Commander had worked with a few before, but they seemed rather knowledgeable. Maybe it was another human saying he didn't understand. 

The Flash kept looking at 23 as Red spoke, face pinching into something that looked painful. 23’s own eyes heated up. This was too much - this was too much - 

“I’m sorry,” The Flash embraced - hugged - him. His voice was tight and watery. 23’s chest hitched at the sound of it. He hugged him back. “I- I thought you were- I just assume you knew- you can’t read?” he finally settled on asking. 

23’s shoulders were stiff. He nodded, embarrassed to finally admit it. “I’m sorry,” he found himself saying, the urge to apologize hitting him like a punch. 

“No, it’s okay. It’s alright. We… we’ll learn. I’ll teach you. And we’ll work on what happened during the spar… it’s not fair I put you in that situation, kid. I should have known you might have episodes, of course, you would, after what those-” he cut himself off, voice dripping slightly into anger. Then it came back, cool and kind and forgiving.

 “And I’ll explain. If you need me to explain anything," he paused, looking at Red Arrow. “If I gave you a security communication to the kid, would… could you answer him if he needed to talk. You… I think the kid finds you safe, Red.” 

Red nodded, a lot less flustered than the other two in the room. “You ain’t gotta ask. Of course I will.” He stepped closer, ruffling 23’s hair and earning a small, hesitant smile in return. 23 felt grateful, grateful that the Flash was holding him again, that he wasn’t angry, that Red Arrow had been the one to prove to 23 that this resolution was inevitable. He hugged the Flash tighter, scared of letting go, of returning to that bad feeling. The Flash didn’t let go either. 

“Is… is there anything else, kid?” The Flash asked, then he looked to Red Arrow, as if he’d have the answers. Then again, he usually did. “Anything I should know?”

Red Arrow paused. His mouth opened slightly as he looked at the back of 23’s head, burrowing in the Flash’s chest like a child after a nightmare. Arrow sighed. “No... Nothing that’s for me to share. Just… talk to him. Take him on a run, teach him about your science crap, just… just treat him like a regular kid, Flash. It’s what he needs.” 

The Flash gave a slow, considering nod. “Thank you, Arrow.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just don’t leave the kid thinking you’re mad, it freaks him out. And as soon as you get that line set up, let me know,” Red Arrow added. “I’d like 23 to be able to call me when he needs to as well. Not just on my end.” 

“It’ll be done,” The Flash nodded. 

Red Arrow nodded once, then stepped around the two. He gave 23 one last pat to the head, earning a tear-streaked freckled face looking up at him. 23 gave a shaky smile. 

“You’ll come back?” 23 asked, voice hopeful, as if scared he’d be rejected. Red Arrow knelt down beside them, hand on his shoulder. 

“You’re under my protection now, 23. That means I’ll always come back, that I’ll always speak up for you when you can’t do it yourself. And when when we get a line established, you can call just because you want to. Even if there’s no reason. I’ll be here for you. And The Flash will too.” 

23 nodded, tears blurring his vision further. “O-okay,” he stammered, chest aching but not in a bad way. The Flash hugged him tighter. Red Arrow gave him a small smile. “Do you want me to stay longer? I can.” 

23 hesitated. It was selfish. It was stupid. It was greedy. He already had the Flash back, warm and kind and not mad… but he nodded, throat clogging at the action. Red smiled and simply grabbed his comic off the nightstand, then sat beside him, opening the pages and asking 23 what he understood of the story do far. 

23, The Flash, and Red Arrow spent the next few hours pouring over the illustration, explaining to 23 what speech bubbles were, the overall plot of the story and answering all the gun-shot rapid questions that 23 was burning to know. He learned a lot about the comic. Including the protagonist and that he was more than a nameless character to project onto. 

“See. That’s his name,” Red Arrow pressed a finger over the repetitive word he’s grown familiar with but had no word for. “W-A-L-L-Y. It’s pronounce, Wally.” 

Wally. 23 perked up, feeling excited that he could finally put a name to the character. It was a silly name. One that sounded pleasant to the ears, one that didn’t belong to as fierce a character as the one in the comic. 23 found traced the name’s text, the ink under his finger as he practiced the lines. 

“I like that name,” he found himself saying. Red Arrow and Flash had taken to him stating simple things, things that seemed meaningless in the moment. But this meaningless thought, an enjoyment of discovery, had the Flash leaning forward to examine it as well. 

“You like that? Wally? Is that… is that something you’d like?” 

Like? 23 looked up, confused. Red Arrow read his face and sighed good-naturedly. “He’s asking if you like the name enough to use it. You don’t have to, but if you want, we can call you Wally.” 

“But… but it’s here, not the book,” 23 argued, even if he rather liked the name, even if it would be a good secret, he didn’t think he was allowed. The big book of names was where he had to pick from. And Wally was already taken by this drawn character…

“Kid, you can have any name,” Flash said, at the same time Red Arrow stood up and grabbed the book off the table. 

23 eyed it nervously, intimidated by the thick stack of pages - the sheer volume of impossible to understand text - as Arrow sat back beside him. He cracked the book open, flipping through it until he reached a seemingly random list, finger tracking down it. Then he leaned over, finger tapping one of the words. 

“See? It’s in the book so it’s free game,” Red Arrow argued. 

“I….” 23 stated at the word, then back to the comic, to the character amend Wally that wasn’t him. “Can I…?”

Red Arrow tapped his chin, then asked. “Do you like this name, Wally? Does it sound right when I call you that, Wally?” 

23’s gut flipped every time Red Arrow used that name, directing it at him like it belonged to 23. 23 blinked, mouth dry as he struggled to wrestled with the new feeling. 

“Well, I think it suits you,” The Flash added, voice light. “If you chose it, as long as you're happy with it, I’d love to be able to call you Wally.” 

And that was it. As soon as the Flash said it aloud, 23 knew that it was his secret name. He found himself smiling, making the Flash’s own hopeful one grow in tandem. 

“Y-yes! I like it. I like… I like Wally,” he tested the name out himself, finding it funny how to rolled off his tongue. It was unlike any name he’d ever come across. And one he was excited to bear. 

“Wally,” The Flash grinned even brighter as he used the new moniker. “I think it’s a very wonderful name. I’m happy you got to choose one.”

“Might be a bit early to learn but… wanna know how to write it?” Red Arrow asked. 

23 nodded eagerly. Though the name still felt removed from himself, that it wasn’t yet his, that he wasn’t yet comfortable being open with it… he was elated to finally have a secret name. It felt precious, despite the lack of physical value. It added something to 23, something that made him feel as complex as the new ideas he’d been experiencing. 

He felt warm as he learned how to hold the pen, The Flash helping guide his motions to create his name in looping curls of sloppy ink - Wally. 

To 23, it was perfect. 

Chapter Text

/ One Month, Three Weeks since the Light /

23 was very excited. He had been practicing his secret name a lot, having been given a notebook with the Flash’s lightning bolt insignia on the cover, its pages already filled with clumsy renditions of Wally - his secret name, something that still made him excited even days after learning it. 

He’d been dedicated to perfecting his writing of it. But it was hard, especially because he’d never written before. He was still getting used to holding the bright red pen, having been fascinated with the crimson ink it produced. 

Flash had given it to him just this morning -  a gift from Red Arrow, along with a notebook and a promise that he’d get a communication line by the end of the week. Then Flash spent the rest of the afternoon, teaching him basic letters and had to write them. It had been fun to learn something new, even if he didn’t do it perfectly. 

23 felt good. No, he felt great. 

The Flash was happy, had brought him breakfast and mentioned going on a run later today. And right now, he was eagerly waiting for Robin to come visit. He liked looking forward to things. 

23 had put his notebook to the side, anxiously eyeing it, but wanting his name pick to be a surprise. When the door opened, 23 bounced to his feet, smiling at Robin who looked just as pleased to see 23. He’d been a tad nervous that he’d be mad about Conner, but from what he’d been told, Conner himself had forgiven him. 

“Mini-Flash!” Robin quipped. “Heard you got to see Red again? How’s he?” 

“He’s still nice,” 23 said. 

“How are you doing?” 

“I’m happy,” 23 said honestly, and by Robin’s expression, it was a good answer.

“That’s awesome, dude! Guess it was a good talk, huh?” 

“I… may I show you something?” 23 asked, suddenly nervous. 

Robin nodded, that easy expression never leaving his face. He walked over, jumping onto the bed. “What is it?” he asked curiously.  

23 eyed his notebook before taking it, gingerly handing it over. 

“New journal? Have you been learning to write?” Robin asked, and 23 flushed with shame. Word must have spread that 23 couldn’t read or write. Robin hadn’t mentioned the missing big book of names, either. So he wondered if the surprise was ruined and Robin already knew his secret. 

“It’s okay, being new to writing. Can I look inside?” Robin asked, voice taking on that gentle edge that 23 wasn’t sure he preferred - at least, not from Robin. Robin was loud and jumpy and 23 liked him that way. 

“I’d like you to see,” he said. 

Robin smiled and opened the first page, eyes blinking wide at the sudden barrage of red text. He scrutinized the repeated word and at first 23 grew hot with shame, thinking he couldn’t read his sloppy handwriting. 

“Wally? Is that you?” Robin looked up at him. “You liked the comics that much?” his voice took on that teasing tilt, and 23’s chest loosened with relief. He grinned back. 

“I did. When Red Arrow told me the main character’s name… I thought I couldn’t have it. But he said I could,” 23 explained, proud to show off his choice. “I’ve been practicing it.” 

“Wally,” Robin said again, then held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Wally. My name is Richard, but my friends call my Dick. And we’re friends,” he added.

Richard. Dick. Secret names. 23 felt his chest burst at the generosity of being given two secret names to know. He didn't get what Robin was doing with his hand though, not until Robin grabbed his own and shook it. Oh , he felt his face burn. He knew what a handshake was, he just didn’t make the connection. 

“It’s nice to meet you too… Dick,” he decided to use the friend version of the name, and he was right to use it. Robin didn’t correct him. And that meant… “We’re friends?” 

“Uh, yeah! We already were! But I guess it's officially official, now that we’ve shared names,” Robin said. He paused. “You know, I like seeing you happy. It suits you as much as your new name.” 

23’s smile grew tight, but it didn't sit like a bad feeling, just an overwhelmed one. He initiated a hug, not at all surprised that Robin easily returned it. “I’m really happy to be your friend, Dick.” 

“Good. Because you’re stuck with me now, Wally,” Robin said. 

“I’m okay being stuck with you,” he said honestly. 

Robin’s smile turned a little sad. “So am I, Wally.” 

They were going somewhere new. 

23 thought the Flash was taking him to the training rooms for a run. That was where he had been permitted to speed the first time. But 23 was taken upwards, out of the bowels of the League's base. He didn’t know where they were going. 

 He grew a little nervous, but the Flash had a hand on his shoulder the entire time, relaxed and chatting casually. 23 trusted the Flash. He trusted his dad more than anything else in this world. 

“Alright, let’s head in here and then I’ll explain where we’re going. Now…” 

The Flash knelt beside 23, having stopped before a large coded door - one that looked important. “Let me be clear. If at any time you feel scared, overwhelmed, or just bad, tell me. If you want to return home at any time, we will. If you just need a break, you tell me.” 

23 nodded. “I will… Is something happening?” he asked, comfortable enough to speak his thoughts. 

“No, nothing bad. I’m taking you above ground.” 

 23’s stomach twisted. He wasn’t sure he wanted that. The moon had been wonderful, breathtaking… but the city itself was scary. He didn’t like how loud and gray and cold everything was. 

“We’re running in the city?” he asked, wanting badly to understand. 

“No. Not the city,” The Flash pursed his lips, and his voice grew pained even if he tried to hide it. “Red explained that you’ve never been outside, not before… before you two met. So I want to take you outside, to a place called a farm. It’s the perfect place for running. And I trust you to stay close to me, just in case. But the outside is safe. And it’s warm, and beautiful and… and I think you’ll like running outside. How are you feeling, Wally?” 

23 bit his lip, his hand twitching against his hip. He was nervous, scared. But when Flash used his chosen name, he felt the severe anxiety plummet.

 “I trust you,” 23 decided to say. “I want to try. I’ll tell you if it’s too much,” he promised. As Red Arrow had told him, honesty worked best with the League. 

The Flash looked proud and he nodded at 23’s word, standing and punching the code. The door lifted, and 23 thought it would lead outside. He had braced for it but, no, the door opened and the room was just a circle, barely big enough for three. At his confusion, the Flash looked down. 

“Oh, right. It’s a teleporter. Have you ever used one?” 

“No,” he said. Well… “Klarion teleported us everywhere,” he said, voice dipping a little at the mention of the witch. “But not a machine.” 

“Well, this teleport doesn’t hurt or make you dizzy, or anything like that. If you’re apprehensive, we can see if we can get a vehicle. I know it’s slower-”

“I don’t mind teleporting. I trust you,” he repeated that, mostly to ground himself as he let The Flash guide him inside, the door shutting and making 23 freeze up at the sudden claustrophobia.

The Flash’s voice soothed him, saying that he was there, he was okay, overlapping with the press of buttons. Then the little room lit up white. Nothing happened. The light went away and they were still in the teleport. 

“See, nothing to it,” The Flash said, reaching over his head. 

The door opened, and he gasped as they found themselves in a large ware-housed sized room made of wood.

Sunlight was slicing through the wooden panels, into the large loft filled with stacks of pale yellow rectangles. He stepped out, into a strange smell that was both fresh but stale. He had no word for it. 

His eyes stayed trained on the white light cutting into the building, burning and watering, but transfixed. He’d only seen sunlight a few times, just like this, glimpses of IT reaching itself into his isolated little world. 

“This is a barn,” The Flash explained behind him, looking a little sad. “Farms use them to store hay,” he pointed to the large yellow stacks. “Hay is used to feed the farm animals. I think you’d like them. We have all day. I want you to explore, ask questions and learn about things you’re curious over. Today, we’re here to have fun.” 

23 nodded, even if he started to feel a bit intimidated. He glanced at the giant doors of the barn, and wondered just what the outside looked like. 

How similar was it to a city? Was it going to be loud? Would he be okay? Would he get panicked like he always did? Would he like farm animals like The Flash said? What if he hated them? 

“Kid? Okay, let’s sit down here. That’s it, right here on the hay. Why don’t you pick up some of it for me? Tell me how it feels,” The Flash suggested, his own hands running over the floor, over the scattered yellow sticks. 

23 blindly grabbed at some, just following orders, but was startled as it crinkled under his touch. The hay was stiff but delicate, and it smelled like the barn. The Flash crushed a few pieces of his own, letting the sticks break and fill the silence. 23 felt himself calm a little. 

“It’s itchy," he said, pressing his fingers together where pale dust gathered. The Flash chuckled, dropping his own straw. 

“To us, it is. For farm animals, it’s food. It’s why it’s here in the barn for storage,” The Flash said. 

He knew animals. Teekl was an animal - a cat. Robin had explained his name was a type of bird…. But Wally never got to interact with any. He wasn’t sure what the point of them was, or why The Flash would have a barn full of food for them. He looked up. 

“Is this your barn?” he asked. 

“Oh, no,” The Flash laughed at the unexpected question. “It belongs to a friend. His name is Jay. This is his farm. It was his idea to have you come out here actually… He’s like us. He’s a speedster.” 

23’s entire body went rigid as he looked up, eyes wide and mouth open. “Another? He’s fast?” 

“Hehe, yea! Really fast. He taught me a lot about how to use my powers. I used this very farm to learn how to run.”

And 23 was honored that he was here too, that he was getting the same training The Flash did! He grew excited. He stood up, even though his superior was sitting, it didn’t even cross his mind that The Flash would be mad. 

“I want to run! I want to learn too!” he said excitedly. 

The Flash stood with him, smiling. “Great! But first, let’s take it slow. I want you to get used to the farm. We’re going to be coming back here a lot if you like it.”

23 nodded. He didn’t know what he was nodding for, just that he was eager for it. “Okay!” 

The Flash seemed happy. Happier than even when 23 picked out his name. “Let’s open the barn door. I want you to look outside and tell me how you feel. Take a moment to let yourself think about it.” 

The Flash urged him over, amused at how 23 bounced on his toes, eager to train as his idol had. But then he grew a bit more nervous as the heat of the sun rolled off the exit - a tall wooden frame bigger than any door he’d ever seen. 

“Go ahead and take a peek, only when you’re ready,” The Flash said, making no move to rush him, hand sitting on his shoulder in a quiet show of support. “We can even stay in the barn today and try for outside tomorrow.” 

Okay. Okay, so whatever he chose, it wouldn’t be considered wrong.

It still felt wrong, to not push open the door, but he couldn't make himself. Why? Why? He wanted to go outside. He wanted to see what was beyond this pallet of wood, what he’d missed his whole life. He pressed his palms to the warm wood, and the rough grain of peeling paint. 

He gave a push. 

There was resistance. More than he thought there’d be. The door dragged along the barn floor, then dust billowed as it hit pale dirt. 23 paused, peeking through the crack in the door. 

His heart skipped a beat. The sky. It was blue. Blue like in the video but… but it was so vibrant in real life. Clouds, he knew what they were, but they looked like paintings masterfully crafted onto the blue itself. And below that?! The sky met the vast horizon of a mottled rolling land of green and yellows. 

Fields of golden stalks and lush green foliage in neat rows spread out for seemingly miles. 23 knew what distance was, had run on treadmills to meet them, but to witness this scale of distance - to see it manifested as a room that wasn’t a room, because there were no walls, and there were no bulbs, but a giant glowing ball of yellow that hurt to look at. 

The Flash patted his head, drawing him from his frantic thoughts, and gently turning his eyes from the light. 

“You’ll hurt your eyes if you stare at the sun, Wally. But you can look at the clouds, and the trees,” he let his hand fall over the horizon line pointing out the row of deep green towers. “Take a moment, and tell me, is this all new to you?” 

“Yes,” he breathed. 

“Take your time. Step out only when you want to,” The Flash said, and then went quiet, letting 23 take it all in, letting him simmer in the sheer size of the world. He timidly pushed the door further. The world widened. There was more. So much more. 

He took a few steps out. He breathed in and filled his lungs with the clean, cold breeze that cradled his face. His skin felt comfortable in the sunlight. He closed his eyes and lifted his head, just letting himself sit in this kind warmth. The Flash stood behind him, silent, letting him soak in this new experience… 

And then the air shattered with wind, and 23 jumped into the Flash, startled by the sudden appearance of a man. He was older, with graying hair and blue overalls buttoned over a dizzyingly bright shirt of crisscrossing reds and blacks. Mud coated his boots and smudged a wrinkled cheek, alongside a bright smile on the man’s - the speedster’s - face. 

23 stared wide-eyed, and the man chuckled at the reaction. 

“Well, welcome to my farm! Sorry for the intrusion, but I wanted to welcome my guests. The name’s Jay,” the man said, eyes crinkling in warmth. 

Was he made in a lab too? Or like Flash, born in the outside? He was old, he must have had a long life, right? 23 was too nervous to ask, suddenly shy under the stranger’s attention - no matter how outwardly kind. The Flash patted his head, gesturing to the man, an air of close familiarity between them. 

“Jay, this is W-” 23 gasped, nerves forgotten with a bolt of defensive panic. He looked in horror at The Flash, who cut himself off, smile dropping. “What? Are you okay?” 

23 looked nervously at Jay, then lifted himself on his tippy notes, quietly whispering to Flash, “It’s a secret.” 

Wally was a secret name. Jay seemed nice, but 23 didn’t know him yet. And secret names were only for friends. Maybe it counted because The Flash was Jay’s friend, but 23 felt protective of the name. Thankfully, The Flash nodded, understanding. 

“Jay. This is Kid.” 

“My other name is 23,” 23 added, voice pitching in nerves a little. The Flash grimaced, and 23 wilted a bit, unsure if speaking up was correct this time. But it seemed correct that this man knew his name. He seemed close to the Flash after all, just not close enough for his secret name. 

“I do not mind either name,” 23 said, hoping to rectify his mistake. Jay raised a brow, looking a little perplexed, but then laughed loudly, clapping The Flash on the back, who he let out a sigh. He didn’t seem angry though. 

“Well, then. Nice to meet ya, Kid!” Jay said. “I’m happy to have you here on my farm. Flash here says you’ve never been to one. Well, my home is your home.”

“It is very nice,” he complimented. Jay laughed again, like he said a quip. Maybe he had. 

“Why don’t you two go start for a few laps around the wheat? I hear you’ve been cooped up, Kid,” Jay said. “Go stretch those legs a’yours.” 

“Sounds good,” Flash pointed towards the field of golden stalks. “See that, Kid? We can race around the perimeter of the yellow. That’s the wheat.” 

“Okay,” He said, toes wiggling in his sneakers, a little excited to run this… this huge open world. 

“I’ll race ya,” Flash grinned, but waiting for an answer. 23 looked at Jay, at his warm welcoming expression and then looked at The Flash - who seemed nervous but hopeful - and decided to take a chance. 

He grinned, shouted, “First to do three laps, wins!” and then he blurred, taking off to the wheat field with a laugh that surprised even himself. 

The Flash was close behind, smiling, and 23 looked forward with an exhilaration in his limbs. He beamed, turning wide and skidding into the dirt as he took the first corner of the field. The Flash was beside him, pushing 23 upright, then bolting forward. 

23 raced after him, laughing as he tackled the Flash around the second lap, boldly trying to take the lead. The Flash stumbled, losing his footing as 23 gained ran ahead. The Flash called, “Hey!” with a grin in his voice. 

They kept running, beyond three laps. 23 had to finally stop with a quiver to his legs, his heart thrumming and feeling all that tension in his body slipping away. He had never thought running could be so fun and so free. He loved it. 

“Here, kid,” The Flash plopped beside him, handing him water and a few bars. 23 happily took them. “Wooh, you are fast. How’d it feel?” 

“Great,” 23 looked up at him, face flushed, and breath still heavy. “Can.. can we do this more?” 

“Everyday,” The Flash promised, and 23’s mouth nearly hung open in shock. 

“Really?” 

“You need to run. It’s unfair we’ve been keeping you in one room. You’ve done nothing but follow our rules and try to be good. So from now on, we’re coming here everyday. To run, to enjoy the sun, to help Jay with chores now and again,” he chuckled. “Do you like that idea?” 

“Yes. I like it a lot…. Thank you.” 

The Flash smiled, and the two spent a few quiet minutes enjoying the sun and the breeze. 

23 trailed his hands along the grass, along the lush cool green that he’d been denied for so long. They sat under the shade of a walnut tree, which Flash showed him how to crack and eat. It was amazing to just pick up the shell and find sustenance inside, and such a good flavor too! 

Then he saw little chirping things in the branches, flitting about, like sentient fluffballs. When he asked, The Flash said they were birds. He blinked at them. They were so odd…The Flash pointed out the ones not moving, and he studied their beady eyes and tiny sharp mouths for a while. 

“Are they robins?” he eventually asked. 

He caught the Flash off guard. “Hehe, no. These are finches. I’ll keep an eye out for robins, though. They live on the farm too.” 

They sat for another several minutes, 23’s body cooling off, his exhaustion quickly morphing back into energy. When he felt ready enough, he stood and stretched, too antsy to sit any longer. 

“Can we see the other animals?” 23 asked. 

“Sure!” Then his smile flattened a little. “How much do you know about animals?” 

“I’ve seen a cat and dogs before,” 23 said, then looked up at the chirping, at the tiny little birds that the Flash had pointed out during their break. “And birds,” he added, looking into the branches, smiling at the tiny things. The Flash watched them too. 

“I think you’ll like Daisy. I saved her from a tornado and now the girl adores speedsters. Would you like to meet her?” 

“Yes… What is she?” 

“She’s a cow. You know what those are?” The Flash asked. 

“No. I’ve never seen one.” 

“Well, now you will. Wanna run over? If Daisy sees you using your speed, she’ll like you immediately!” 

23 grinned. He wondered what she looked like, and nodded, letting the Flash lead the way. He held back on his speed a little, nervous to scare the animal, but blurred behind the Flash into a large fenced area. There was a glen with big black and brown creatures lazying about. 

The Flash had them slow a bit away from the creatures - cows? - as they blurred back to clarity, stopping in the middle of the field. There was a low, loud moaning sound, and then one of the brown creatures started to trot from the glen.

It was an odd creature - with giant black eyes framed in long lashes, a big nose that was shiny and flat, and wide ears that swiveled towards them. The creature bellowed again, its trot coming to a bouncy walk. It made that loud noise again, and The Flash stepped forward with a hand out. 

“Hey, Daisy. How have you been? I got a friend here to meet you,” he said, gently petting down her face. 

Daisy closed her eyes and tilted her head, making it so his hand pet the back of her ear. He scratched and Daisy's head lifted. It looked like she was smiling. 23 smiled back, hand reaching out before he could stop himself. 

He held back. 

The Flash gently took his hand and, ever so slowly, pulled it close to her head. He let go when 23 was close enough to just touch, and he did. His eyes lit up. She was soft and warm and solid, and he liked how she leaned into his nervous scratching, trying to copy what The Flash did. Then she made that loud moaning sound again and 23 jumped, hand pulling back. Daisy seemed confused why he stopped. 

“That’s her mooing,” The Flash explained. “It’s the noise that cows make. She’s saying hello. She likes your attention.” 

“Oh,” 23 reached out, hesitant, but Daisy tromped forward on those weird hoofed legs and forced her head into his hand. He smiled again, finding her impatience to be pampered very amusing. He rubbed her wide leathery ear. She was unlike any creature he’d ever seen. 

“She’s beautiful,” 23 said, looking into those giant glossy eyes. 

“She is,” The Flash agreed. 

Then there was a blue blur beside them, and 23 jumped back from the cow as if he’d been burned. He wasn’t used to other speedsters. Jay grinned at them and reached out, petting Daisy’s head, the cow having been huffy that 23 jumped away. The older man was holding a large basket on the other hand. 

“Kid. How do you like the farm?” Jay asked. 

“It’s… I like it,” 23 said, hesitantly reaching out to pet beside him.

“Good. I figured you two might like a lunch break. Courtesy of my wife, Joan,” he said, voice full of warmth as he held the basket out to The Flash. 

“Thanks, Jay. And tell Joan I said thank you too. She’s too kind.”

“She’d never let speedsters go without a snack, you know that,” Jay laughed. “Come on. Let’s find a shady spot to sit and eat. Joan made lemonade too.” 

23 reluctantly said goodbye to Daisy as they trailed down the field, under a tree (not walnut but an oak this time). 

When they sat down, Jay laid out a blanket on the grass even though the grass was already soft and nice. The Flash had poured the yellow liquid into small plastic cups, handing them out. The flavor was like a zing, running down his tongue and making him light up. 23 really really liked lemonade. 

The Flash gave him as much as he wanted, along with sandwiches - the food that was stacked, which he had come to learn can be made with any kind of ingredients. 

These were all different, some with fruity flavors and others with nutty savory ones. He liked all of them, engrossed in the sandwiches while the other speedsters chatted about the farm and how it was doing. When 23 had finished, he felt the need to thank the man for his generosity. 

“I… Thank you. And Joan,” he added, recalling her name and the Flash’s fondness for it. “For the food. And letting me be here. I like it here.” 

“Ha! Well, you’re quite welcome, Kid,” Jay ruffled his hair. “I’m glad to see a speedster enjoying the fields. I’ll have to run with you two next time.”

“Busy today?” The Flash asked. 

“Yeah, I promised Joan I’d help her clean out the kitchen. We got way too much crap, and I can’t leave her alone to drown in old pots and pans,” he laughed. “I wanted to meet the Kid, though. And um, if he wouldn’t be opposed to it, I was curious about something.”

The Flash’s smile faltered. He eyed Jay warily. “Jay…”

“If he doesn’t wanna answer, he doesn’t have to,” Jay said flippantly and the two bickered a little, 23 looking between them in confusion. He spoke up, voice small but firm. 

“I don’t mind. If he asks,” 23 said. The Flash pursed his lips, but didn’t argue with 23. “If you’re agreeing, then it’s fine. But Jay can be too nosey for his own good, Kid, so if you don’t want to answer. Don’t.”

“You wouldn't be bothered?” Jay asked, even as Flash glared at him over 23’s head. 

“No. I’ll tell you if I don’t want to answer,” he settled on, relieved to see that both Flash and Jay seemed happy with the response. 

“Alright then. Can I ask… why the name ‘23’? Is it short for anything?” 

23 hadn't expected the question. The Flash looked annoyed at Jay, but The Flash didn’t really like any discussion around 23’s number identification. 

“No. It’s just 23,” he said, finding it a little odd that no one had ever asked about it. 

“Ah, I see. So why hold onto it if it’s just a number? Ain’t you got a much better name?” Jay asked. 

“You don’t have to answer, kid,” The Flash said. 

“It’s okay," he felt fine. Even if it was a sore subject, he didn’t feel overwhelmed. “It’s just important. I don’t want to forget it.” Because if he had been 22 or 21, he wouldn’t want to be forgotten either. 

“You don’t have to remember those times,” Jay said. “Sometimes it’s better to move forward, to a happier future.” 

That made sense. 23 could understand that. But at the same time… “It would feel wrong,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to be forgotten.” 

“You will never be forgotten, kid,” The Flash said, as if it were a ridiculous idea. “We’d never leave you behind just for choosing a new name. You’re you, no matter what you’re called.” 

23 looked at The Flash carefully. Did he not know? 23 had assumed that The Flash didn’t like the name 23 because he knew. Because of what it represented - something both painful and scary and hopeful from his time in the Light.

Then again, no one had really asked about it. He assumed that, because the number 23 was alone and in no other sequence, that it’d be obvious - that he was the 23rd. He was attempt 23. He really shouldn’t assume things anymore. 

He looked down. “I am 23 for a reason. If I forgot that number, I’d forget the ones before.” He waited, and he felt the shift in the air when The Flash understood. He felt bad. He felt bad ruining the light mood of their farm day. “I… I thought you knew,” he stumbled over his words, words that were bad, bad, bad-

The Flash was holding him, head pressed to his chest in a tight embrace. The Flash was shaking slightly. Jay was silent from his seat, face grim, but not entirely surprised. 

“No, no, no, I- there were more?” The Flash gasped out, voice tiny. 23 reached up, arms numb as he felt himself hold The Flash back, realizing that his dad was hurting. “Are they-” he didn’t finish his sentence. 23 gave a short shake of his head. 

“I did not know them in person,” 23 said. “I learned from footage of them training, how to use my powers. They gave me the knowledge to survive, to be 23 for as long as I have.”

 23’s voice wavered a little. He had always hoped he’d be the last number. He had always been the fastest, he always held his own in fights, he never complained…even if he messed up sometimes… It took 23 clones before an obedient one was made - 22 deaths before the 23rd one learned to comply. 

“The Light did this,” The Flash said. 

23 nodded. Even if it wasn’t a question, he felt the need to comfort The Flash, to give him whatever he needed. Jay was there suddenly, and 23 was grateful for the older speedster, kneeling down by The Flash to pat his shoulder and tell him that he couldn’t have known. Maybe Jay was the Flash’s dad. He seemed to care for The Flash like one. 

“The Light…” The Flash’s voice was dark. “They… No. No, I-” he fumbled over himself. 

Jay was quiet for a moment. “I’ll look into it. But Barry,” Jay said seriously. 23 caught the secret name, but he didn’t react. Now was not the time. “You need to be with the kid. You got Batman’s number?” 

The Flash nodded, grabbing the communicator at his hip and handing it over without a word. Jay took it, giving 23 a little nod. “I’ll return in a bit. Take the kid back to Daisy.”

The Flash nodded, and with a deep breath, lifted himself up. He kept 23 at his side, almost nervous in his movements, as if scared the clone might disappear from under him.

 23 reached out and grabbed his hand, and it seemed to be the right choice, as The Flash visibly calmed with the tether. He led him over to Daisy, neither using superspeed as they walked through the overgrown flowers. 

23 still felt bad, but at Daisy’s long lashes and brown nose, rising into the air to moo at them, he grinned and pulled at the Flash’s hand. If Daisy made him feel better, she’d make The Flash feel better too! 

But he still seemed sad. 23 didn’t think he’d be this upset, but…. If the Flash saw him as a child, maybe he thought the other 22 clones had been children too. After experiencing all the great things the outside offered, 23 wished they could have had that too. 

But 23 didn’t try to comfort The Flash by saying “they were just clones” or “they weren’t even human,” as the Commander would have said. 23 lifted himself up and hugged The Flash tightly. He didn’t know what to say, or how to express that he would have ended up as another failure sooner or later… 

“You saved me,” 23 said. “You were kind, and patient and you helped me when I didn’t understand. You saved one of us. I… I hope you know how grateful I’d be, even if I hadn’t been the one you found.”

“Kid, Wally, stop,” The Flash turned, holding him, tears dripping down his face. “Wally, don’t say that, don’t you dare - I’m so grateful to have found you. It hurts me that those poor kids weren’t - it’s not fair, but I need you to know that I love you so much. That I’m so relieved that you're here, safe and with me, and- and- God, Wally, I’m so happy you’re not there anymore.” 

I love you. 

Love. He knew that word - the Light used it often in terms of things they value, things they cherished. He knew it meant a lot, even if he didn’t know the true definition. 

“I love you too, dad,” 23 said. It felt right.

The Flash froze, staring down at him as more tears fell down his face. He pulled 23 closer, holding him and crying, “I love you, Wally. I love you, son. So much.” 

23 gripped onto him tightly, his own tears dripping free and he closed his eyes, overwhelmed by a surge of good emotions. It was a lot, but… but it felt like something really good just happened. 

It felt like 23 belonged…

Then everything went wrong in seconds. 

There was a flash of green and a painful blast, ripping the two apart with the tremor of an explosion. 23 reached out, panicking as his vision was blinded by dust and dirt. He tried to call out for his dad, but he hit the ground, and everything went dark.

Chapter Text

His vision was blurry. His head hurt. He heard Daisy mooing, and his head swiveled towards her, nausea ricocheting around his skull from the sudden motion. He could barely see. 

There was dust everywhere, but he saw the brown cow kicking and galloping away from them, towards the glen. He blinked at her. Then heard the crack of something powerful behind him. The ground shook. He wanted to turn his head to look but everything felt bad. He closed his eyes. 

“Get away from him!” The Flash’s voice rang out, piercing the fog in his head. 

He felt a rush of air as bodies tumbled passed him. He tried to push himself up, to see what was happening. He barely managed to creak an eye open. Then both widened at the sight of a giant snarling cat demon preparing to pounce on him. 

He rolled out of the way of Teekl’s giant claws, just as she made to snatch him like a mouse in those gnarly things. His head throbbed as he stood upright, vision swarming, but he could hear Klarion’s laughter behind him. And he could hear his dad fighting against him. 

He needed to help! It didn’t matter if Klarion’s voice made his blood turn to ice or his legs lock up in fear. He pushed himself forward, tackling Teekl’s broad side and sending them both to the ground. 

Giant claws swiped at his head. He grappled with the huge arms, kicking at the cat’s face and only managing to get his leg snagged mid-air. His vision was still swimming. He couldn’t block the paw coming for his face, not properly.

He hit the ground hard.

23 held his breath as razor-sharp claws pressed into the back of his neck, tensing in a warning for him not to get up. He could see Klarion in the air, hands lit up with dangerous magic, attacking a red blur. 

The Flash had been hurt in the initial explosion. 23 could see the slight limp in his run, even at superspeeds. The Flash’s leg gave a slight spasm of pain, and he faltered, unable to dodge the giant glowing barrier that Klarion smashed into him, earth piling up around him in a sudden and violent crater. 

“N-no!” 

23 screamed out when The Flash didn’t get up. He couldn’t either, even as he struggled and the claws pierced his skin. 

He hissed at the blood flowing down his neck, then froze, noticing Klarion watching him in amusement. The witch was floating over the rubble that buried his dad, stepping lightly onto the ground and walking towards him. He was grinning, a triumphant grin that always meant 23 had messed up, and Klarion got to set him straight. 

No. No, why did this happen? Why was he here?!

Klarion was grinning madly. 23 tried to look past him, to the crater in the ground, the dust that hadn’t yet cleared, but he couldn’t see any movement. 

“Dad!” 23 screamed, trying to push himself free, even as pain ignited in his neck. “Get off of me!” 

Claws grabbed his face. He wanted to glare at the witch as his neck was painfully craned upward. He wanted to spit on him and say a quip… but he was honestly terrified. 

“Look at this, Teekl!” Klarion crowed. “The dumb thing called him Dad ,” his nails gripped into 23’s cheeks, mockingly shaking his head. “Stupid, stupid clone. He’s not your father. You don’t have one, remember?” 

23 wanted to bite that hand. He wanted to yell at Klarion. But he couldn’t think about anything beyond his dad - eyes flickering behind the witch, desperately hoping to see that figure of red stand up. Klarion’s face twisted with a sneer and looked over his shoulder. He grinned.

“Distracted?” the witch asked, that cruel smile curling along his lips. 

He lifted a hand, turning bright with magic. 23’s eyes went wide as a giant phantom fist materialized over The Flash. Klarion’s eyes glittered as he stared at 23’s horrified face, before dropping his hand, and sending another crack in the earth as it smashed downward.

 Klarion howled in laughter at his terror-stricken face, at how his eyes started to water. And the witch raised the giant green fist, and brought it down again. And again, the earth trembling with each teeth-rattling tremor. 

“S-stop! Stop it!” 23 struggled to find his voice, hands reaching out, neck bleeding as Teekl held him down. “Stop it! Stop hurting him!”  

“Why? It’s funny watching you squirm when I do - this !” 

Klarion lifted his hand again, ready to send it back down. 23 felt his body start to vibrate. Anger was running through his blood, scalding and furious. His skin glowed yellow, pulsing blinding light. He barely heard Teekl hiss loudly, their paw jerking back with the smell of burnt fur and flesh. All he felt was freedom. 

23 shot forward, right into Klarion who gasped, the giant fist breaking apart with his concentration, scattering like glass shards through the air. 23 knew Klarion could vanish if he let go. So he held tightly to his arm, fingers trembling as he balled the other one into a fist and sent it right into the witch’s constantly smiling, laughing face. Klarion’s head went backwards with a crack. 

At his side, a clawed hand swiped for his head. 23’s own hand instinctively came up to block it, his skin glowing yellow again, vibrating so fast it made Klarion shriek - an ungodly thing.  23 had never heard it before. But he was so angry, it wasn’t enough. 23 reared his head back and threw it forward into Klarion’s, pain ringing in his skull but earning another wretched howl. 

“Teekl! Get it off me!” Klarion shrieked. 

The giant cat roared behind him, tearing the ground up as it leapt. 23 kept attacking Klarion until the last moment, turning and shoving himself into Teekl’s pounce. The cat roared in surprise, writhing as yellow-flared fists sped into its side, pummeling it back into the ground. 

It took a second for 23 to beat Teekl into a crater, and less than a nano-second to run back to Klarion before the witch could pick himself up. 23 straddled him, fists blurring with the force of his attacks, wordlessly screaming at Klarion whose face was starting to look unrecognizable. 

He didn’t stop. Klarion always took. He was cruel and mean and hateful. He was going to take this too. He was going to take 23’s dad, and that was the one thing he wouldn’t allow.

23 didn’t even see the green magic pooling around Klarion’s body, how it started to sink into the ground, how his own legs were being pulled into the portal. He was too focused on destroying the witch. There was nothing beyond that furious desire. 

And then he was grabbed, a body barreling into his side and arms encircling around him, tucking him close as they rolled roughly into the dirt. Just feet away, the portal disappeared and Klarion was gone. Teekl too, leaving the now ruined field in a post-battle calm. 

23 saw red. Then yellow. He blinked at the bright bolt, up to the bruised and beaten face of The Flash. He was hurt, but he was alive, his mask torn and one eye swelled shut.

“Wally, are you okay?” His dad grabbed at his face, fingers trembling as if 23 were the one to be hurt. 

23’s hands ached, but that was nothing compared to the crushing relief in his chest. His face twisted, just before the sob growing in his throat escaped, and 23 launched himself into his dad, hiding himself in the red, shaking as The Flash immediately welcomed him closer. 

“You’re okay, Wally. I got you. You did good, you did great,” his dad was saying, voice trembling. “Oh god, I thought he’d got you. I thought I lost you.” 

His dad had been scared. 23 had seen The Flash showcase all kinds of emotions - emotions superiors were never supposed to show in front of their underlings. Now, he showed raw open terror - terror at the idea of losing 23. 

That thought made a sharp pang ricochet through 23’s chest and he held tighter, eyes closing. 

His dad was safe. The birds were chirping again. It was almost surreal. He had never risked even a petty glare in Klarion’s direction before. But the terror of the witch did not remain. Instead, there was a burning contentment in 23’s chest, that he hadn’t let Klarion take this time. That he had the strength to defy, to choose who he fought for.

 For a brief moment, he wondered if Red Arrow would be proud of him. 

His dad’s hands were still shaking when there was a burst of air beside them, followed by the stumbling footsteps of an older speedster struggling to halt mid-superspeed. 

“Shit! Barry, kid! I saw- are you okay?” Jay’s voice sped closer. 

“I’m fine. I- Oh, oh, Wally,” The Flash’s voice rose, his throat seeming to close as he pulled back a little, one arm reaching backwards, then hesitating in horror. “Yours hands- Wally, you’re hands-” 

They were red. They matched the suit he huddled against, fingers mangled and broken, but the pain seemed far away. Jay said something, but it buzzed over his head as his dad jostled him from the ground, carrying him against his chest and running towards the barn. 

“You’re okay. We’ll fix this, Wally - I got you, son, I got you-” 

The words were as fast as the world blurring around them, everything coming to a second’s halt as his dad punched in the code to the teleporter. 23 smelled the stale but fresh scent of the barn, and then white light phased over them, and it was gone. 

A hand pet through his hair, shaky but comforting. When the door opened, The Flash immediately ran through the halls and towards the medical wing of the League’s base.

 The world stopped, and Flash was calling out for a doctor to help them. Someone in white coat approached, their words as muddy as his thoughts. Then his dad tried to set him down and 23 panicked, grabbing onto him, pain lancing up his arms as the numbness in his busted hands started to fade. He didn’t want to leave his dad. Something bad would happen again, he just knew it. 

“It’s okay, I’m here,” The Flash said, gently holding him by the wrists. 

He eased him onto a medical cot, but didn’t pull away, even as the personnel crowded around him - people in white coats that looked so much like those in the labs. 

He froze up, panicking again and hiding his face in his dad’s chest. The Flash gently petted his back, holding him as he coaxed 23 through his erratic breathing. He promised that no-one would do anything or touch him without permission. He promised to stay right next to him the whole time, and 23 calmed down, because he believed in those words to his very core.

A superior of the medical staff, he assumed, asked his dad several questions. His dad’s voice was strained, trying to hide his worry as he carefully eased 23’s hands outward to let the man have a better look.

 23 kept his eyes closed the entire time, trying to ground himself as, without adrenaline, the pain in his hands started to grow. Flash stayed with him the whole time, explaining to him what was happening as the strangers placed his busted hands in a large machine. It was loud and scary, but didn’t hurt at all. 

They were given space for a brief period, but soon, The Flash was asked to talk privately. 23 had drawn closer to his dad immediately, all the words and distant chatter that’d gone over his head the last few hours, now in stark clarity of receiving such a threat. His dad reassured him quickly that he was there to stay. 

“I can’t leave him. Whatever you have to say, if it’s not confidential, can be said here. Otherwise, if it’s not an emergency, then it can wait.” 

“Alright then…” the man’s voice was apprehensive. 23 refused to look up at him.

 “There was extensive damage to the tendons and muscles in both hands. Due to his enhanced speed and healing, we can’t just re-break it to correct it like a broken bone. And as you know, he can’t undergo surgery without anesthetic, and with the procedure required, it’s just not feasible. Even if we did manage to negate the pain, his healing factor wouldn’t allow us the time to complete the procedure. It’s… I’m really sorry to say this, Flash.”

Said man tightened his grip on 23, holding his breath. 23 found himself doing the same. 

“But the boy’s not going to be able to use his hands for simple tasks, not without a deal of pain and patience.” 

“But… but my body corrects itself. I’ve had much worse damage done to me,” The Flash argued. There wasn’t any anger in his voice, just heavy pain. 

“His body works differently than yours. Though he shares the same DNA, his healing factor is much faster and less efficient. It works against itself when damage is intensely consistent for too long. I’m sorry. I’m afraid there’s little else we can do besides follow-ups to observe his pain levels. I’d like to keep him here for a few days, just to be safe.”

“I… okay,” The Flash nodded, turning to pull 23 into a full hug. “I’m sorry, Wally. I’m so sorry.” 

It wasn’t his dad’s fault. And though 23 still felt a burning fury at the thought of Klarion, of the witch hurting his dad like that, he knew it wasn’t the witch’s fault either. It was his own. He didn’t stop. He was so angry he just couldn’t stop. 

23 had never wanted to hurt someone before. And worse, if given the chance, 23 was sure he’d finish the job. If it was to protect his dad, he’d kill Klarion. But the bitter anger he’d fought on was not there. In this white room, with the scary machines and strangers prodding his broken hands, he just felt bad. 

His eyes started to water.

He didn't dare look at his hands, now bandaged and seizing with pain every now and then, his tendons stiff and shaking. He did that to himself. Would he still be able to write? And he just got his own notebook and bright red pen… Red Arrow gave those to him, and now he couldn’t use them. He sniffled, trying to hold himself together. 

“Please, get some rest. I’ll give you two some time.” 

The stranger nodded to both of them apologetically, then left. As soon as the door clicked shut, leaving them in the room, he let go and started to cry. 

“I’m sorry- I-  I didn’t-” 

“Shhh, it’s okay, Wally. It’s not your fault, It’s not your fault, I promise,” his dad let him cry, stroking circles over his back. 23 should be yelled at, he thought. He should be punished. He broke his hands. He broke his hands and now he couldn’t write, or hold sandwiches or lemonade, or pet Daisy or… or fight…  

Would that mean he couldn’t be in the League anymore? 

He was worthless now. He started to cry harder. 

“D-does this… does this mean- you aren’t my d-dad anymore?” he nearly wailed. The Flash immediately grabbed at his face, turning it so he was looking up at him. He’d removed his cowl, narrowed blue eyes drilling into 23’s like he’d just spoken in sin. 

“Wally. I am your dad. You are my son. Nothing is changing that. You’re not a soldier. I don’t want you to fight. I want you to keep smiling, and learn things you enjoy, and, and when you’re ready, I want you to come live with me, outside the base, at my home.”

Tears streaked down 23’s cheeks. 

“I want you to go to school and make friends.” His voice kicked into super speed, almost breathless with conviction. “You’re going to have breakfast and lunch and dinner every day with me, and you’ll decorate your own bedroom however you want. You’re going to have a normal life. No more fighting. It’s not your fault what happened. What happened was terrifying for you. I’m your dad. When bad things happen, I’m here to help you, to protect you. I would never leave you, Wally. Never.” 

23’s hands ached as he threw his arms around his dad, the Flash panicking a moment as he made sure his hands weren’t harmed. “I don’t want to leave.” 

“You’re my son. Nothing changes that…” He paused, face panicking a little. “We should get you some food. You used a lot of energy and - here, I’ll ring for food, I don't have to leave the room to do that. And I’ll help you eat, okay? I’m staying right here.” 

23 blinked, then smiled. Even as tears ran down his face and his throat remained clogged, he had to. 

Klarion didn’t win. 

He was here, he had a dad, and that dad was The Flash - who wanted to give him food even in the midst of this mess, when in his old life, he’d go starving every night after training. For breaking his hands, he’d have been decommissioned on the spot. 

His dad smiled back, hugging him again, and saying those three words that made 23’s heart feel whole. 

“I love you, kid. That will never change.”

And 23 thought, it was a really good thing to be loved. 

He didn’t like the medical wing. 

The beds were soft, but there were always loud beeping noises and constant movement outside his closed door. He got to eat a lot though. And despite his legs feeling restless (as well as being annoyed at all the questions over how his hands felt) it was nice to be with his dad. 

The Flash had taken to sleeping on a cot, staying overnight and constantly making sure 23 ate every meal. He used 23’s secret name aloud, but 23 didn’t correct him, even if he wanted to. Even if it made his gut twist a little at strangers knowing his secret. But… he wouldn't deny that he really liked hearing it aloud, at least from friends and family only. 

 He also liked saying “dad” more than “sir”, and his dad beamed every time he used the moniker. Names were a funny thing, he thought, laying in his bed. His dad was fast asleep, rolled over on his low cot. 23 stared at him - at the man who no longer wore his mask when alone with 23 - then back to the ceiling, deep in thought over how much his life had changed. 

It still felt surreal, but now… things felt more grounded. This reality didn’t seem so odd. It was confusing, and he knew he understood nearly nothing. But it was fun to learn. It was exciting to see new things. The farm had proven that. 

He liked the farm, and it hurt his heart to think he’d led Klarion there. At least Daisy was okay. Jay had sent him well wishes too, more worried about 23 than the destruction to his beautiful outside - to the field and the fence and the lush grass. 

Even with all the hurt, the experience of the outside still lingered in his chest, that feeling of freedom under the warm sun and running for the sake of it, because it felt good. He smiled. It was faint, but it was there. 

At least Klarion hadn’t tainted the day’s memory, not completely.

“Gah-” His smile faltered, hand coming up to grasp instinctively at his temple where a sharp pain rose. Another headache. He’d been getting them a lot these last few days, and though he was good at hiding pain and didn’t want his dad to worry, this one was really bad. 

23 turned his aching head, sinking into the pillow to try and sleep it off. But it crescendoed. He nearly gasped aloud, hands uselessly shifting in the sheets, unable to grasp like he wanted. 

His head really hurt. 

And then it faded quickly, and 23 was left trembling in his bed. He glanced at his dad… maybe he should say something, he thought, but then he saw his broken hands. His lips set themselves in a thin bitter line. He didn’t want to burden him more. 23 stared through the dark, hoping sleep would come soon. 

But the door opened without warning. Dim light was cast into the dark room. 23 jumped, settling nervously when he saw it was the shadowman - Batman - standing outside the doorway, hand still on the code. 

“I hope I didn’t wake you. I was hoping The Flash was up,” he said, voice taking on that soft edge it always did now when talking to him. 

Batman had seemed surprised when 23 had called The Flash “dad” in front of him, and maybe that title earned him some respect with the other superiors. He didn’t understand, but he didn’t ask to.

 He reached down instead to pat his dad on the shoulder, gently easing him awake. It’d been hard to get the man to sleep these last few days. 23 was a bit sore to wake him, but Batman was in charge, and he wouldn’t come so late unless it was important. 23 found that even the shadowman cared for the Flash’s sleep schedule. 

“Uh, Walls? Oh, Bats ?” The Flash sat up straighter, shaking his head awake. “What time is it? Did I oversleep?” 

“No. I’m afraid it’s personal matters,” Bats said, and he produced a small communication device. The Flash’s eyes lit up in recognition and he zoomed out of bed, grabbing at it and flickering his finger across the screen. He groaned, voice pained. 

“I’ve been so worried about Wally, I didn’t charge it!” He said. “She’s called several times. Oh man, Iris is gonna think I’ve been ignoring her!” 

“Calm down. Go to the hall. Call her there,” Batman said, taking the Flash by the shoulder and ushering him out.

“I’ll be just a few minutes and right outside the door, okay? Try to go back to sleep,” his dad said, and the door closed. It was silent again. Dark. Peaceful. He could hear the muffled voices on the other side of the door.

 23 wasn’t alarmed. It didn’t seem like a scary emergency, just important. Maybe something to do with the paperwork his dad sometimes complained about. 23 knew a lot about paperwork. He didn’t understand it, but he knew it was silent and boring and mind-numbing to stand behind someone working on it for hours…

 He stared at his broken hands again, his chest tightening. He looked back at the door, as his dad’s voice rose in pitch - nervous. His chest felt worse suddenly, guilt from nowhere hitting him and making his throat close up. He stared at the door for another few seconds, then carefully laid back down. He wanted to cry, but he wouldn’t. He’d been crying so much lately, he felt bad for it, especially now if his dad was busy with something else. 

The door opened again. 23 closed his eyes. His dad had wanted him to sleep. More guilt curdled in his gut that he’d been disobeying, even if he knew his dad wouldn’t be mad. He felt a weight shift on his bed and risked looking up. His dad was smiling at him, reaching out to ruffle his red hair. 

“Hey, Wally. I’m sorry, but something happened and I need to leave for the night. Would you be okay here, until tomorrow? I asked Bats if Robin could come stay with you tonight. If you want me to stay though-” 

“No, it’s okay,” he felt another pang at interrupting his dad, but the man only hugged him. 

“Thank you, kiddo. I promise to come back soon. Robin knows to make sure you’ll eat breakfast, and if you feel any pain, you tell him, okay? If you need a nurse, if you need medical help, press this red button here, okay? Even if it’s a false alarm, it’s better safe than sorry.” 

The Flash paused, looking back at the door as if suddenly nervous. “Um, or maybe I can stay a little longer. Just to make sure you get back to sleep. Are you hungry at all? Do you want some water?” 

His dad was taking on that rapid tone again, and 23 still got overhwlemed by someone else caring so much for him. 

“It’s okay, really. I’m fine,” he said, both wanting to keep his dad here, but knowing he’d been selfishly keeping him from his work. 23 wanted his dad, but he didn’t want to be a burden. “I’ll be okay.” 

“Okay. Okay,” his dad nodded, kissing the top of his head and ruffling his hair. “Love you, son. Robin will arrive in a bit. You two have fun. And if you need anything, just ask to call me.” 

23 nodded, feeling a bit more at ease between his conflicting emotions. “Thank you, dad. For… just…” he fumbled over what was supposed to be a simple goodbye.  “I love you too.” 

His dad backtracked, sitting on the bed and pulling him into another hug. “You can call. Even if you just need to talk to me, okay? Even if it’s for no reason besides you feel like it. Remember. I’m always here for you, Wally.” 

And 23 trusted him. That was one constant throughout this whole new experience, despite the rolling waves of confusion, misunderstandings and waning fear - The Flash had always kept his word. 

With a bit more reassuring on both ends, 23 eventually convinced his dad that he was just tired and would sleep until Robin got here. 

He wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t excited to see Robin, even if the other had visited several times already. Red Arrow had shown up once,hours after the attack. Though he seemed angry at the state of 23’s hands, he had also said that 23 did a good job protecting himself and the Flash, that Red Arrow wished he could see Klarion’s face when he lost. 

23 had felt good about the praise at first, but then it started to rot a little, and he wondered if Red would think differently if he knew how bad Klarion’s face looked. How…. destroyed. 

23 shook his head, telling himself that Klarion deserved it for hurting his dad, but aching that he’d caved into his rage. 

That was why Robin was good. Robin was always positive and upbeat, and he didn’t ask 23 about what happened, which he was grateful for. The nurses and doctors here asked too many. It’d be nice to just not think about the bad for a while. Robin had a weird way of making it hard to stay upset, of forcing 23 to be in the present and just… be. 

Alone, he sat up and got off his bed, making the sheets neat (with a bit of pain and fumbling) and sitting crosslegged on it, staring at the door and waiting. He didn’t want to be sleeping when Robin came in, even if it was expected. It felt wrong. Rude, maybe. 23 was still figuring out the specificities of words. There were so many.  

The door opened. He perked up, not having to wait long. Robin rarely showed surprise, but he did say that 23 had an uncanny ability to bring it out of him. There was slight shock on Robin’s face then, replaced quickly by a smile as he flipped on the lights and walked in. 

“You didn’t have to sit in the dark, Wally,” Robin laughed. 

23 had come to really like Robin’s laugh. During his last few visits, 23 had been hyper-focused every time he laughed, caught off guard by how really alike he and Klarion’s cackles were… but the more he listened, the more he realized how separate they were, in the things that mattered. 

Robin’s laugh was kind and welcoming and safe. Where Klarion had laughed in his face when learning he had a dad, like that in itself was a joke, Robin had hugged him and congratulated him, genuinely happy for him. Had even said, “About time!” 

With Robin here, 23 already felt better, smiling at his friend as he hopped on the bed beside him. 

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m good. Happy, now that you’re here,” 23 said truthfully, kicking his legs off the mattress, just to feel some stretch in his muscles. Robin patted his back. 

“We should have sleepovers more often! We can have them in your room. I’ve been decorating it, so when you get back, it's gonna be a lot nicer,” Robin said proudly, and 23 was excited to see what kind of decorations make things nice. “Your dad said you’ll be out of here by tomorrow, right?” 

“The doctor will give approval, yes,” he nodded. “My dad is gone until tomorrow too,” he added, his gut squirming a bit.

“Well, guess I’m staying until tomorrow then.” 

“Won’t Batman be upset if you skip routine?” 23 questioned, but he already had taken to the idea that superiors were pretty lenient around here. 

“No, he won’t care.”

“The League is nice.” 

Robin chuckled, that surprised tone coming back again. “You like it here, right?” 

“I do. A lot,” his voice got tight but he wasn’t sure why.

 Robin leaned forward. “You okay?” 

23’s voice went dead. He thought he had felt better, but now he felt bad again. It felt wrong. He looked away from Robin, feeling the urge to cry. He’d been wanting to escape this, but it felt worse by the second. 

“We don’t have to talk. Do you want to turn on the t.v?” he asked. 

23 glanced up at the little black screen on the wall. He struggled to follow movies. His dad put them on during the day, to “fill the silence” in the room, but 23’s eyes hurt and he felt nauseous if he stared at the images too long. They were like surveillance footage, but dizzingly bright and confusing to follow. They told stories, but he preferred comics - a small stack already sitting on the side table. 

He couldn't read them alone, and not just because he was still learning the alphabet. He couldn’t carefully turn the pages, not until his hands were unbandaged and he had to practice with his fingers. The doctor said it would hurt a lot before it got better. 23 was used to pain, but he was still scared of it. 

“We can sit in silence for a bit too, that’s okay,” Robin said, voice turning gentle.

 23’s frown deepened. He should say something. Robin was here. He should be smiling. He opened his mouth, head turning, then snapped it closed when there was a knock at the door.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Robin asked, jumping off the bed. 

23 shook his head.

 Robin raised a brow, making to punch in the code before the door opened on its own. 23’s eyes widened. The last thing he expected was to see Red Arrow walking in, ruffling Robin’s hair and then shoving him out of the way. Robin squawked, hands flying up to his messed up hair to even it back out. 

“Red, watch it!” Robin didn’t seem mad. 23 knew they were friends. They talked good about each other. But this was the first time seeing them together, and to see the easy comradery between them made him feel weirdly out of place - awkward. Then Robin jumped back beside him on the bed, and he felt a bit better. 

“You here for the sleepover?” he asked. 

“Heard Dad had an emergency,” Red said, nodding to 23. “He called and said you were alone with Robin, and I couldn’t allow that,” his voice grew mockingly serious, and Robin tried to punch his arm. Red ducked away from him. 

“What are you two doing, just sitting here? You didn’t bring any board games or nothing?” he asked. 

“It was a little last minute,” Robin admitted. “Not sure if Wally’s up for anything too stimulating tonight.”

Red looked at him. 23’s eyes averted to the floor, his throat growing tighter their entire back and forth. “Not feeling good right now, Wally?” he asked. 

23’s eyes got really really hot. He blinked, but couldn’t open them back up. He shook his head, stiffening as he felt Red Arrow sit on the other side of him. 

“Is there something specific on your mind?” Red asked. 

23 nodded. His shoulders shook and a few tears escaped. He reached up to wipe at them, embarrassed. It was over. He and his dad were safe. It was over. So why did he feel so bad still?

“You wanna talk about it?” Robin asked, a little hesitant, which was weird, because Robin wasn’t supposed to sound like that. Everything felt wrong right now. 

“I- I don’t know,” his voice cracked. It sounded wrong too. He looked at his hands. “I… still feel angry.”

Red leaned forward. “About your hands?” 

23 shook his head, then paused. He didn’t know. Yes, he was upset about his hands. He was angry at himself for breaking them, but a small part of him wished he’d finished the job, no matter how horrified that bloodied face left him feeling. Klarion was still out there. It was over, but his dad could get hurt again, and next time, 23 wouldn’t be able to protect him. 

“Klarion is out there,” 23 said, voice tiny. 

“He can’t get to you here, kid,” Red promised. 

“He always finds a way to hurt me,” 23 said. “He knows I have a dad now. I know Klarion. I lived with him my whole life, he’s going to take this. He always gets his way!” It felt childish, crying aloud like this, whining about a superior who had every right to treat a soldier how they saw fit. But after meeting his dad, and Robin and Red… he couldn’t understand Klarion’s cruelty anymore. 

“Wally, it’s safe-” Robin tried to say. 

Red shook his head, voice level as he asked, “You were with him a lot, huh?” 

23 nodded, wiping at his eyes. 

“Was that the first time you stood up to him?” 

23 looked up, the question making him pause. “Yes. It was.” He thought of how the fear held him back, how his ears rang against Klarion’s voice, scathing and venomous. Back with the Light, he’d always be focused on Klarion, on how his mood was, on how to keep from getting his attention. He’d never had a reason to act against the witch’s cruelty before… not until…

“He kept hurting Dad. I had to.” 

Red and Robin exchanged glances over his head. Red’s voice was even as he asked, “If you were alone, Wally, would you have fought back? For yourself?” 

“No,” it was an automatic response, one he felt bad for admitting aloud at the following silence. 

“Kid. We’re going to keep you safe, but if you ever find yourself alone with any member of the Light, you have orders to keep yourself alive. Got it?” Red’s voice was firm, and 23 blinked up at him before giving a hesitant nod. 

“That’s not a super reassuring answer,” Robin said, voice heavy despite trying to sound light. “He’s right, Wally. We want to know you’d protect yourself. We don’t want to lose you, dude. You’re my friend, right?”

Another nod, this time less hesitant. 

Robin leaned forward. “Then if anything happens, you think of me and Red and how sad we’d be if you were gone.”

“And that we’d hunt down the Light ourselves to get you back,” Red added, and 23’s heart skipped a beat at the thought, mostly in fear of these two getting hurt on his account. Red clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Hey. I bet you wiped that stupid smile off the witch’s face, huh?”

23’s sniffled. He hadn’t really thought about it… but yeah. Klarion’s mockery had stopped. He wasn’t laughing when he screamed for Teek’l, and that scream had sounded like a wounded animal. “I don’t like hurting people. But he was hurting Dad,” he repeated, looking down. 

Red rubbed the back of his head, “Ah, sorry. I just hate that witch. I’m sorry you had to see him, kid.” 

“Have… you met him before?” 23 asked, mostly wanting to avoid thinking about the farm.

He knew his superiors had engaged with the Light. But he figured the soldiers like Robin and his group were particularly sheltered, being prepared before engaging on the field. The superiors here seemed to take extra care with their young members. 23 had been learning that firsthand. But he was assuming things again, wasn’t he?

“Occasionally,” Red said, jamming a thumb towards Robin. “Bird-boy engages with him on the regular with his kiddie team.” 

“Young Justice,” Robin corrected, chin high. “And yeah. We’ve run into Klarion quite a few times. I know how he is. I’m sorry you had to be around him, Wally.”

23 shrugged. “I wasn’t with him all the time. I was mostly with Comman-” he paused, biting his tongue, not having spoken Savage’s name aloud for weeks. He barely thought about him, not since the video footage. 

“Hey, you okay?” Robin asked. 

23 blinked. There was a startling realization that struck him, something that was painfully obvious, yet shoved to the furthest corner of his mind as it always was. If Klarion found him, The Commander knew what he’d said, what he had. Commander Savage knew he was a traitor. He froze, eyes growing wide as his heart began to race. 

“Wally? Deep breaths, kid, come on.” 

“Roy, he’s panicking-”

“I know! Just - Wally, look at me-” 

But he couldn’t. He wanted to run. But he couldn’t do that either. His body started to vibrate. He wasn’t sure if he was going to glow yellow again or if it was just his own nerves starting to spark. Someone grabbed his shoulders, trying to get him to look up. 23 just closed his eyes. 

He felt bad. He felt really really bad. 

“Wally. He’s not here. You’re with your friends. You’re with your Dad.” 

His dad. He blinked. The Commander was gonna kill his dad. He’d do it in front of 23, finish what Klarion couldn’t without the theatrics. Commander Savage would be silent and brutal and make 23 understand just how useless he’d be to help.

Klarion may be a cruel piece of his routine, but the Commander had been his life. He’d had a plan for the Flash. 23 didn’t know what it was, but he’d messed it up, messed up 22 sacrifices before him. He understood that the consequences would be worth than a simple decommission. 

“Should we call Flash?” 

“No!” 23 felt his heart jump into his throat. Terror clung to him like a second skin. Unbidden, images of his dad, in the position of those civilians on that footage, of being killed by the Commander in cruel, terrible ways, nearly made him blind with fear. 

“Wally, it’s okay!” 

“Commander Savage knows!” he snapped, broken hands fighting against the ones trying to keep him seated on the bed, the pain the farthest thing from his mind. Someone snatched him by the wrists, holding his arms still even he thrashed against Red, sheets wrapping around his legs as he kicked at them both.

“He knows I’m a traitor! Do you know what he’s going to do?” 

“He won’t touch you!” 

“I- I need to go!” he was panicking more now, heart pounding faster when he couldn't get away from Red’s grip. If he went back, if he gave himself up to Commander, maybe Flash would be spared. Maybe his dad wouldn’t get caught in 23’s own stupid consequences. 

“No way, you’re not going anywhere. Wally, just- dammit, Robin, grab his legs,” he snapped as he was repeatedly kicked in the chest. Robin tried, but then Red hissed and reeled backwards, dropping 23 who fell right through the mattress. 

He was yellow again. He didn’t mean to, barely even noticed the glow behind his eyes before it happened. He reached out, the feeling of falling making his stomach flip. The world went dark, disorienting, and he realized he fell right through the floor of the medical wing when Red and Robin’s voices suddenly muted. 

He had a few seconds of flailing, of trying to turn off the yellow vibrating nerves that made him dizzy and too-warm and apparently noncorporeal. And just like all the times before, it seemed to click off on its own, the light flickering out like a candle before he hit the ground with a loud and heavy thump!

He fell on some long wooden counter, a chair swiveling by his head where he bonked it in his landing. He didn’t get up. He looked up at the metal ceiling over his head, on his back, tears falling down his eyes as he realized that he’d run away again. Not intentionally, but it always made things worse. 

His dad was supposed to be doing something important, and now Red and Robin would panic and call him and 23 would just waste everyone’s time. He closed his eyes, tears growing as thick as the clog in his throat. 

“Is that…?” a voice was nearby. He barely registered it, just trying to hold himself together. 

“Is he out again? Did we not just talk to Batman about this? Where is the Flash-” 

“Uh, guys? Back up for sec,” someone walked closer, footsteps clicking on the tiles.

23 closed his eyes again. He didn’t recognize these voices. He didn’t know the other superiors, and even though Robin said they were nice, he was too scared to face them. Not right now. He wished he’d dropped himself into a prison cell or something. Someone tapped him on the forehead. 

“You’re Flash’s kid, right? You know, the way he talks about you, I think he’d have a heart-attack knowing you’re lost. Do you need help?” a man asked. 

23 opened his eyes, nervous, but a little reassured by the kindness of the voice. It didn’t seem misleading, but he'd fallen for such things before. He was met with a green mask and a smile, the man peering at him upside down, head cocked as he waited for an answer. 

“You uh, you’re not hurt, are you?” 

“Lantern, just grab him and take him back to his cell. We’ll have another talk with Flash when he returns,” a woman said. 

Lantern scoffed, waving them off. “We’re talking in circles here anyway. Let me take the kid back and see what happened. Just keep talking in circles without me.” 

“We’ll surely miss your much needed input,” came a sarcastic voice, and Lantern scoffed again, but it didn’t seem upset. 

He nodded down at 23. “Can you stand up?” 

23 didn’t look behind the man. He didn’t want to see the strangers who seemed a lot more cold than Lantern. If anything, his tone of voice kinda sounded like the Flash, the way he approached 23. 

He carefully slid off the table, gingerly taking the offered green-clad hand to step onto the tiles. Lantern paused before taking him by the wrist, face twisting in sympathy and slight shock at the state of his hands. He didn’t say anything about it, though, and 23 was grateful. 

He kept his head down. He could see the other superiors standing to the side, watching them, and he felt his face flare red. 

“Come on, buddy. Let’s head back. Was anyone with you when- uh, when you fell through the ceiling?” he asked, an awkward chuckled following after. 

23 nodded, voice tiny and uncertain. “Red Arrow and Robin, sir.” 

“I’ll call them, let them know you’re alright,” he said, hand unclipping a black communication device. He paused, giving 23 a grin. “You can call me Lantern. Sir isn’t really my thing.”

 He looked down, dialing a code behind putting the piece to his ear. They entered through the hall, and 23 felt a little breath of relief at escaping the others’ eyes. 

“Hey- woah, calm down, no alarms, I have the runaway,” Lantern said to a voice 23 couldn’t hear. His gut twisted at the title of runaway . He didn’t mean to. “No, he’s safe. He’s following me to the holding cells now- oh. Okay. I didn’t know he moved. No… Uh, Flash is not happy with us right now. Oh. Oh! Okay, yeah. Got it. We’ll see you there.” He put the device on his hip again. 

“Wally, huh? Good name.” 

23’s eyes burned. He didn’t respond. It was a secret. But it seemed everyone knew it, even the strangers. He wondered if Robin was the one on the line, and a twinge of betrayal pricked his insides. He shouldn’t be upset, but the name was his. It was supposed to be. 

“My name is 23,” he said, voice more cold than he intended. The Lantern stiffened beside him, then tried to visibly relax. 

“Oh, come on. Wally’s a lot better-” 

“It’s 23!” He yelled, and for a moment, he felt that rage rear its head - ugly and hateful. The Lantern stared down at him with wide-eyes and that anger flickered out of 23’s chest, familiar fear twisting through his veins. He backed down, head to the ground, failing to fight his tears. “Wally is a secret name.” 

“Okay. Hey, I’m sorry,” Lantern knelt down, trying to catch his eye. He held up a hand, twisting it near the side of his mouth, then pulling across his lips. “Lips are sealed shut. I promise, I won’t tell anyone.” 

23 wanted to yell at him. He wanted to run away. He could. It'd be easy. But then he’d be back to cowering in an unfamiliar place, waiting for one of those meaner superiors to find him. 

“I… I’m sorry for yelling, sir,” 23 said, just wanting to go back to his room. He didn’t really want to see Red or Robin. They were probably mad at him. 

“No, it’s okay. It’s your name. It’s not fair that they told me, and I’ll make sure to tell them to keep it more secret, okay,” Lantern promised. 

23 paused, “I don’t want them in trouble.” 

“No one’s in trouble. I’ll just ask them. They’re nice kids, they’ll listen,” he said. 

They were nice. And though his name was a secret, 23 hadn’t really spoken uo for its secret while in the medical wing. He was both too tired to speak up, and had liked his dad using it too much, but now that strangers tried to use it, it left him feeling bitter about it. 

“Okay… Thank you.” 

The Lantern lit up, as if proud. “I got you, little buddy. I’m happy to finally meet you by the way! I hope you’ve been happy here.” 

“Yes.” 

“Good! How’s the Flash treating ya? He seems really fond of you, you know.” 

“Yes,” 23 nodded. He already knew that. “He’s my dad.” 

The Lantern stopped walking. 23 stopped too, looking up at the oddly shocked expression on his face. 

“I… oh. You call him dad?” Lantern asked, voice thick with that same surprise. 

“Yes. Because he is. “

“I didn’t know that,” a bit of hurt leaked into the man’s voice, and 23 shifted, uncertain if he said something wrong. Then Latner shook his head, smiling again, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Well, congratulations! I’m really happy for you. Let’s make sure you get to your room safely, so your dad isn’t worried. He’d have my head if you got hurt.” 

Another phrase he didn’t get, but he assumed it must mean the Flash would protect 23. 

23 nodded. “He would.”

Lantern laughed loudly. “That’s what dads do, huh? Alright, come on, buddy. Before Robin passes out. You really scared him.” 

“I don’t mean to. I like Robin.” 

“Don’t worry. He’s just happy you’re safe.” Lantern seemed to want to ruffle his hair, but refrained, slightly leading the way, not to the medical wing, but back to his old room. He worried about his comics, left in the medical wing. But he didn’t know Lantern well enough to complain about it. 

“I like Red Arrow too.” 23 added after a beat of silence, feeling a bit bad he left him out. 

Lantern chuckled. “You two friends?” 

“Yes. With both of them,” he said, certain of it. Red had never said it aloud, but 23 knew him well enough now that he would agree. It made his gut warm, even if a part of it was cold at how much he worried them. But he also trusted that they wouldn’t stay upset, that they would truly care more for him than his disobedience. 

23 had to trust his friends, just like he trusted his dad. 

And, well, Lantern wasn’t too bad. So long as he knew how to keep secrets. 

Barry ran home. It was late out, the moon high in the sky and his eyes struggling to stay open. 

He was tired. He wanted to go back to the base, to be with his son, but he also couldn’t just block out the rest of the world. Even if it was hard. Even if he couldn’t help but simmer in anger at how the League was treating Wally. 

They didn’t trust him. His statement about destroying the League - his first day of not being brainwashed, mind you! - still had them apprehensive of his goals. As if Wally was some covert spy. It made Barry roll his eyes. But it was a majority vote to keep 23 at the base, against Barry’s wishes. 

He sighed angrily. It wasn’t fair. 

Conner got so much freedom as soon as he arrived, but it was only because Superman - callous asshole - wanted nothing to do with the poor boy. 

They claimed Wally was too thoroughly programmed by the Light, that his conditioning could activate at the worst time, especially if he were allowed to be in Barry Allen’s life. As if Wally would betray all his secrets to Savage if he were ever - and Barry hated to think  - taken again. 

It was bullshit. 

Even his so-called best friend, Hal, had taken the neutral ground, which was almost as worse as being actively against him. He loved his friend, but sometimes his overtly laid-back attitude could prove too much for situations that put him on the spot. 

Barry might be petty, but he hadn’t spoken to Hal or the rest of the League for weeks now, not since their decision. 

He wasn't even answering Hal’s concerned texts after the farm attack, an irrational anger making him disregard the sincere apologies and questions to talk. The only reason Barry didn’t argue with Batman, was because the man had been with Wally since the start, and ultimately, he trusted him to put Wally’s best interest first. 

Bats always did that for children. He was a father too, afterall. 

But Barry was sick of not getting to take his son home. Wally outgrew the cell. He knew he was safe and trusted his dad. What more did they want? 

Barry tried to reign in his anger, but it kept re-igniting, having been all over the place since Klarion attacked. Barry didn’t want that witch anywhere near his boy again. He hated magic, how tricky and nonsensical it was. But keeping Wally locked in a prison wasn’t going to help either. 

He ran into his backyard, bones suddenly feeling like dead-weight as he looked up at his house. He hadn’t been here in days. And this last month, he’d spent more nights at the base than not, too anxious to leave Wally alone. 

Especially now that he knew Wally saw him as his father. He was still in awe that the kid said it himself. By that point, seeing how little Wally understood about the outside world and the farm, Barry didn’t think he knew what a dad was. And then he said the word, and Barry knew his path in life was permanently set. 

And now he had to tell another very important person that his life had changed, and that it had also been different this whole time.

He loved Iris, and it hurt to think he’d forgotten her in the disarray of this week. 

Her texts hadn’t been angry, just worried and asking him to call and tell him he’s safe. He’d called her right back, and she picked up on the first ring, calling him a jerk for making her worry. 

But when he explained that something happened, something he needed to tell her in person, she grew serious. They planned to meet early in the morning, and Barry needed the few hours before sunrise to clear his head and figure out his words. 

He hoped she understood. He planned on telling her the truth, sick of the secrets and wanting her to decide if she wanted to have a life alongside a superhero. Even if she rejected him, Barry trusted her to keep his secret. She had a heart of gold, and alongside her stubborn need for the truth and her love of the written word, she had taken Barry’s heart too. 

He wanted to tell her about Wally too. 

She was a very free spirit, not interested in kids and with dreams of traveling. He’d understand if bringing a teenage boy into their lives might prove too much. But beyond everything, Wally had to come first. He knew Iris would understand, he just hoped she stayed too. 

The house was dark. He dragged himself upstairs, pulling off his mask and changing into some day clothes. He was tempted to fall face first into his bed, but resisted the temptation and stumbled down the stairs to make coffee. 

Iris would probably come earlier than expected so he put out two mugs. He turned on the light, the machine humming, before he realized someone was standing in the entrance hall. He jumped, mugs almost falling off the counter as he whirled around to face Iris. 

She smiled at his jumpiness, but her eyes were tired too, bags under them from a lack of sleep. Barry simmered in guilt. Of course she’d be up, worrying over him. He immediately walked over and pulled her into a hug. Iris hit him on the shoulder lightly but gave in. 

“Where have you been?” she asked, voice tight. “I tried to call your work but they said you’ve been on paid leave. For almost a month?”  

“I… this is hard to say outright, but…” 

“You’re the Flash,” she said, no tease in her words, her eyes intently searching his. Barry blinked, shock written across his face, and Iris cracked a tired but satisfied grin. 

“I assumed. But after the Flash started to be seen less and less this last month… Everything clicked together.”

“You don’t seem mad?” he asked. 

Iris put a hand on her hips, clicking her tongue. “Come on, Barry. Superheroes protect the ones they love with the whole identity stuff, right? I know it’s just a part of the gig. I also assume something happened? You’ve seemed stressed, and it’s not from analyzing blood all day…” 

Barry grew nervous again. Iris curled a brow, then stepped forward, reaching up to drape her arms over his shoulders and kiss his nose. 

“Hey. Something happened that’s been eating at you, hasn’t it? Something beyond the secret identity? You can tell me.”

“Can we sit? It’s important.” 

“More important than an identity reveal?” Iris asked, and Barry felt immense relief at how normal (at how Iris) she still was, even now that she knew. He’d been scared she’d act differently, and now it seemed such a silly thought. She just leaned against him like she always did, her perfume a familiar comfort.  

“Yes. It is.” 

“Okay, let’s sit,” she took his hand, thumb running over his knuckles as she led him to the couch. He took a deep breath. He wanted her in his life. He loved her. But Wally was his son now. He came first. 

“Hey, relax, Bear,” she smiled, patting his leg. “Nothing you say will scare me off. Is it hero stuff?” she asked, trying to break the ice, a bit of her reporter voice leaking through. It always did, especially if she thought Barry was hiding a bad day from her. He always had to make something up about his forensic day job. Speaking of…

“Last month, something happened during a mission for the League. When I infiltrated one of the Light’s bases.” 

“Oh?” Iris’ voice was careful, and he could tell his girlfriend was surprised. Probably because The Flash was known only to work in Central. She quickly hid it, and probably all the questions her journalist mind was curious about. “What did you find?” 

Barry took another breath, and forced himself not to let his speech get too fast. “The Light had taken my DNA… and they had been using it…” his voice hitched. Barry thought he could gloss over the detail, but the thought of all those other clones… “They made kids with my DNA. Had trained them to work for the Light.” 

“Oh, Barry,” Iris took his hand and squeezed it. He squeezed back. 

“I found one of them,” and his voice steadied out, a small smile pulling free. “His name is Wally. He’s been learning how to be a child. The Light…  they really hurt him. They made him think so badly of himself, and-” he cut himself off, words scrambling together. 

Iris leaned forward, voice soft. “It’s okay, Barry. Take a moment. Wally… I’m guessing he’s important to you?” 

“Very. I love him, Iris. He called me Dad. And I plan on taking him in as my son. But I have to be honest, it won’t be easy. Wally didn’t even have a name until last week. And… And I want you to be in my life too. Both of you. But I understand if this is just too much-” 

“Hey. Bear,” Iris pressed a finger to his lips. “I’d be honored, when he's ready and okay, to meet your son. If it means seeing you happy everyday, why wouldn’t I welcome him?” 

“I… Iris, thank you for being so wonderful,” Barry hugged her, anxiety deflating, a bubble that’d been ready to burst in his chest since Bats gave him the dead cell. “He’s not ready to meet new people yet… but once I bring him home, I know he’ll love you.” 

Iris laughed and rubbed the back of his neck in soft strokes. “I can see the way your face lights up when you talk about him. I know you’re already a great dad to him.” 

“Hehe, yeah?” Barry leaned back with a small chuckle. “Even born under the Light, Wally is just a sweetheart. He’s been opening up a lot, and…” he paused, smile fading. “But he got hurt a few days ago. It’s why I didn’t answer your calls. We’ve been in the hospital wing and I've been so distracted," he apologized. 

“What? What happened?” Iris asked. 

“One of the Light, a magic user named Klarion,” he said, and Iris nodded, familiar with the chaotic force. “I took Wally to Jay’s farm, to run and see the sky. Iris. He’s never seen animals. And he loved them, especially one of the cows. And then he- he said he loved me, and called me dad.” 

Barry smiled, that memory a permanently fond fixture in his mind. Followed by the tainted image of a green explosion. 

“And then Klarion attacked us. I was out of it, hit pretty bad. I heard him screaming,” Barry rubbed at his forehead. Iris was there, listening patiently, holding his hand. “And he was so fast. He beat Klarion into the earth. And he looked so angry, Iris.” He took a breath. “Klarion summoned a portal during it. I grabbed Wally just before he was taken, but his hands are so badly damaged. Probably for good.” 

“Oh, Barry.” 

“I just… it’s not fair to him. Wally has suffered enough.” 

“He has a great father now,” Iris said, leaning into his side. “Someone who loves him. Who cries for him. Who protects him,” she cupped his face, staring up at him with a loving smile. 

“They took a lot from him, Barry. But over his lifetime, you’ll have given him the world.” She reached up and kissed his jaw. “I know it’s hard. It will be for a long time. But I’ll be here. And I’ll understand.” 

Barry kissed the top of her head. “I don’t deserve you.” 

“But you have me anyway,” she laughed. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

Barry held her close, feeling overwhelmingly content. Iris wasn’t mad. Wally was safe, with his friends. And Barry could take a moment to just… 

Breathe. 

Chapter Text

Robin and Red were waiting in the hallway, where 23’s room was. Robin had jumped up from the wall, immediately running over to give 23 a hug when he saw them. Lantern awkwardly gave them some space. 

“Dude, you scared the hell out of me! I thought you dropped into the center of the earth or something!” .

 “I’m okay,” he promised, hating that he made them worry. 

Well, Robin seemed worried. Red Arrow smiled as he walked up to ruffle his hair. 23 had come to see that gesture as a sign of care - just another seemingly simple thing that made his day a little better, like snacks or unprompted smiles. 

“I see Green Lantern found you. He treated you well?” Red asked, shooting a small glare Green’s way. But 23 quickly nodded. It warmed his chest that Red cared, but Lantern had been nice. 

“He dropped into the meeting room,” Lantern explained, voice light and unaccusing. “It seemed like he needed a bit of help. Uh,” then his voice grew a bit more nervous. “So, Flash, um, is he adopting or…?” 

Red raised a brow. “What?” 

“I just mean, he said the Flash was his dad, and Flash didn’t tell me and-”

“If you’re feeling left out,” Red interrupted, arms crossed, “Maybe don’t agree to keep him from his home.”

“We had to be sure he was loyal to the League," Lantern began. 

Red Arrow took a step forward, pointing a finger at his chest. “He’s not loyal to the league, Lantern. That’s not the end goal. He trusts the Flash. He’s not a soldier, okay? It’s not about fuckin’ loyalty.”

“Well, it’s been weeks and Flash won’t answer my texts, let alone let us see the kid,” Lantern said.

“You can, you know, talk to him in perso n.” 

“I don’t not want to, but I’m trying to give him space-” 

“Jus talk to him, Green,” Robin interjected. “You know how he acts face-to-face, he’ll talk to you.” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Lantern sighed. It sounded frustrated, but he was smiling in a wry way. “Look at me, getting social advice from kids.” 

“I’m not a kid!” Red snapped, the same time that Robin scoffed, jokingly offended at the idea. It seemed to loosen some tension from Lantern, who chuckled along with him, and maybe at Red’s indignation too. 

23 looked between everyone, lost on the entire situation. He felt a bit trapped, subtly looking to the side where the metal door stood. His room was just feet away, but he was stuck in this argument he knew nothing about. 

He definitely didn’t know that his dad and this green man were close…. Or used to be. He frowned, wondering if he’d been hurting his dad’s personal life, if his arrival here had caused ripples in ponds he hadn't been aware of. 

The previous panic - now a churning residue in his mind - was stirred back up, making him want to bite his hand. He realized he hadn’t done that since the Light, that the tick only happened when he thought of the Commander - or when he was expecting to be hurt. He grit his teeth, mind hooked on his previous superior again. Of the previous pain and his growing confusion over what the end goal of the previous 22 clones was leading up to. 

“Wally? Hey, look at me.” 

He looked to Red’s voice, finding him holding him by the shoulder, asking if he was okay. 23 looked at Lantern, and he felt his gut squirm. He didn’t want to cause issues. That was the last thing he wanted.

 And even if he felt scared, even if a part of him cowered at the idea, he wanted to speak up for himself. He had always listened to superiors talk about him like he wasn’t there, but here - in what he considered his home with his dad - he didn’t want that. Even if this man was a stranger, it didn’t seem mean. 

“I’m not a threat to the League,” 23 said, raising his voice along with his hands. He knew Lantern had seen the damage, but he may not understand the extent of it. Especially if his dad hadn’t been talking to him. “My hands are no longer suitable for battle, so… I can’t hurt any of you.” 

“No, buddy, it’s not that we think you’ll just attack us,” Lantern said, voice getting higher in pitch. “It’s more complicated than that.” 

“You think I am loyal to the Light,” 23 said. 

“I mean, it’s not-” 

23 pushed back, “I am not loyal to the Light,” and despite what Red had said, “I am loyal to my dad.”

He knew what that word meant, for all little else he knew, he understood the weight of where loyalty was placed. He had blindly given it to the Commander his whole life. He just never knew you could give it to someone else. It’s not like he’d given it to his dad willing either, it had just happened. But it hadn’t been taken - not with pain or force or cruelty. It had been offered, and 23 took it without knowing. It was a precious thing.

“And I understand how valuable that loyalty is. Because he gives it back to me in return,” 23 said, voice growing a bit more confident, confidence that was tenderly brought out by Flash and Robin and Red.

 “I’m loyal to the Flash because I don’t fear him,” 23 said. “He showed me a farm, and gives me food, and teaches me about the world. He wants to know what I think, he’s never told me to stop talking, and-” and there were endless things, so many that he wanted to blurt out, to leave no kind deed forgotten, but there were just too many to realistically list without speed talk. 

He finished with, “I promise. I would never betray that kindness. I love him. And I am happy to be here. As long as I stay with my dad.”

Lantern’s lips were a thin line, his brows furrowed. 23 would say he looked uneasy, and that same feeling swam in his own gut at the expression. Maybe he had talked too freely, too openly. Maybe the other superiors didn’t like it if he-

“I’m sorry, for not just talking to you,” Lantern said. “You seem- you seem like a really nice kid. And… I’m happy that Flash has been taking such good care of you. He, um, he seems like a great dad. “

23 blinked, taken back. He had been scared to speak up for himself, for what he wanted, but so far, repercussions seemed only to be the imagined ones in his head. He nodded, a bit too frazzled by his own nerves to smile back at the apologetic one offered. 

“He is. Thank you for letting me speak,” 23 decided to add. 

“You can speak freely here, buddy,” Lantern said. “And, well, thank you for speaking up.” 

He looked at Robin and Red, both of whom had just been watching, Robin with a proud grin and Red with a satisfied smirk,  both looking very pleased that 23 had spoken at all. 23 felt his nerves truly settle. He smiled at them, feeling proud of himself too. 

And, just because he could, he pointed to his room’s door. His nerves came back, even if it was Red who he asked, “Can… can we go inside now?” 

Red’s smile softened. Robin immediately leapt over to grab his arm. “Yes! You finally get to see it decorated! And we can make Red get us snacks!” 

“If I’m getting them, it’s for Wally, not you,” Red snapped. And behind them, Lantern raised a hand, recalling something important. 

“Oh!” Lantern called, turning their heads. “So, um, he wants his name to be more secret. Um, it’s important because it’s his name to share,” Lantern said, parroting 23’s earlier sentiment. 

“Is that true, kid?” Red asked, tone serious, not like he was mad, but like he didn’t think it was a silly thing to ask. “You wanna keep your chosen name secret?” 

“I… it was a secret,” he said, not sure how to elaborate. He looked at Robin, the one who had told him about names and their meanings in the first place. “Right?”

“Oh…” Robin suddenly looked sheepish. “Right. I’m sorry, dude, I didn’t forget our conversation, but I guess I assumed you were okay using it now… Is it okay if Red and I still use it when we’re alone with you?” 

23 nodded. “Yes. I want that. But secret names are for friends and family only.”

Robin nodded. “Okay. Friends and family only… but um, okay, I’m sorry, but Young Justice - er, my team knows. I was excited to share it. I shouldn’t have.” 

“It’s okay,” 23 was a little sad at how much his name spread, but at the same time, he was overwhelmed by the sincere regret and apologies. It felt good - and also alot - that his words and feelings were being seen as worthy of reassuring. 

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “I’m… happy… that you care.” He wasn’t sure how to express himself correctly - words were tricky - but Robin seemed relieved, so he must be getting better at using them. 

“Well, now that that’s cleared up, uh…” Lantern began. “If that’s all, I guess I’ll head out.” 

“Thanks for bringing him back,” Red said. 

“And talk to Flash!” Robin added. 

Lantern frowned at the suggestion, but he nodded anyway, making to turn away. Then 23 caught his eye and offered a smile, very thankful that the man had kept spoken up for him. Lantern smiled back, waving and then awkwardly turning to leave. 

23 was happy when Robin put an arm over his shoulder, leading him to his room. 

His anxiety, his panic, his fears - it all muted when the door opened and he was greeted to a burst of color and clutter. Images had been plastered over the walls - large prints of some of his favorite illustrations of Robin’s comics. He nearly jumped in surprise, shocked that Robin had managed to take those beautiful drawings and just… stick them to the wall. 

For what purpose? So he could enjoy them? He was, blinking as he realized he’d walked across the room, passed all the other new things just to stare up at them. 

“It’s the comic,” he said. Robin chuckled and stepped next to him. 

“It is! I remember what pages you said you liked the most. Red went to the store and got them printed for you,” he added, and 23 looked at the mentioned vigilante with a big grin. Red had given them their space, but looked incredibly pleased at 23’s reaction. 

“I also got you some old movies that have similar stories to the comics. I know you said you didn’t like movies much, but these are a bit easier to follow. I used to watch them when I was a kid, so…”

Robin pointed to the stack of thick blocky rectangles with writing down their sides, set beside a television set on a new dresser. He seemed a little nervous how 23 would like the t.v and “VHS tapes”.

But then he showed him what was inside the dresser drawers. 23 lit up. 

 There were clothes for him - gifts of bright yellows and reds and oranges. He had asked to wear one of the yellow sweaters - it was soft and nice to touch - and Robin had immediately helped it over his head. 

He wore it now, sitting between Red and Robin, learning how to use the little black communication device that had four names on its screen - Robin, Red, Dad, Bats. If 23 needed to contact any of them, all he had to do was tap a few buttons. Red made sure he knew how to use it, then made him clip it on his hip to keep safe, before showing him what else he brought - books. They were not comics. 

“I thought he might like to learn about regular stuff,” Red had explained, holding out the first book. 

23’s fingers ached when he turned the pages - the pages were thick and glossy and thick with text. The cover had been just words too, but then Red had flipped a few pages until a giant detailed photo of a strange creature appeared. 

He jumped at the sight, never having seen the muscular cat-like beast. It was like Teekl in shape, in how its mouth and nose and ears looked - but like a less rugged version of its beast form. And it was orange! Bright orange with black stripes and an intense yellow gaze as it lapped from a pond, the image frozen in place. Red pointed to the beast. 

“It’s a tiger. They are wild big cats,” he explained. “This book explains a lot about animals, but I don’t expect you to know how to read it yet.”

Red grabbed another book from the stack. This one much thinner, and with an image of a drawn cat and dog and duck under some colorful text he couldn’t read. Red opened it, and the words were large and spaced out, set over simplified drawings of animals he didn’t recognize. 

Red flipped the pages to a rendition of the tiger - this one much less intense in its gaze, its toothy mouth opened in a smile that he couldn't imagine on the real tiger. 

“From now on, everyday, I’m going to teach you how to sound out letters, so when you’re alone, if you want to know what an animal is, you can use this,” he held up the thinner book, “to know their names. I brought a few other things for when we study, so you don’t have to worry about those now, but I thought you might like to look through the photos.” 

“I…” 23 thumbed over the larger book, to a random page with a tall white creature with a beak like a bird - but long like a spear. It was regal looking, standing in the water on thin orange legs. 

He flipped to another page, and another, surprised each time by the unique and wildly varying diversity of creatures he didn’t know existed. He closed the book, overwhelmed, but excited to pour over it when he was alone.

And in a burst of gratitude, he jumped from the bed to hug Red. He didn’t want Robin to think his comic pictures or clothes or even the t.v were unappreciated. So he reached out, grabbing his friend by the wrist and pulling him into the hug, comfortable enough to know that Robin would just laugh and join them. He did. 

“I’m glad you like it,” Red said, ruffling his hair. “And you look nice in yellow.” 

“I love my sweater,” he said. “And I love my gifts. And I love you two,” he said. 

“Aw! Wally, I love you too!” Robin hugged him tighter, then laughed at Red, who had stiffened up, looking uncomfortable. “Come on, Red. I know you’re emotionally constipated, but he’s your little brother now. You’re allowed to show a little vulnerability.” 

Red rolled his eyes and sighed, then looked at 23, immediately relaxing. “You know what a brother is, Wally?” 

23 shook his head. “No.” 

“Well, it just means you’re a part of my family, okay? Just like The Flash, I care about you. And I’m here for you, for the rest of your life. So, you know, as your…” he looked at Robin who waved his hands, urging him on. “As you big brother, just know I’m here for you,” he seemed to grow more flustered, so 23 just nodded and hugged him again, cutting off the explanation. 

Red was good at explaining things, but maybe this term held too much meaning for a short, concise explanation. Just like the purpose of a parent, he may not have an exact definition, but he knew it meant family - someone he cared about, someone he wanted in his life because it made him happy. Someone he would break his hands for. 

Red sighed, seeming to decide something then. “And…. maybe I’ve waited too long, but if you shared your secret,” he shrugged. “My name is Roy.” 

Roy. 23 beamed up at him. 

“And just like your name, it’s a secret,” Roy stressed, and 23 nodded. Of course he knew that! 

“I’ll protect your name with my life!” he promised. He had already been keeping Robin’s name tightly vaulted behind his teeth. He was excited to be gifted another secret to keep. 

“If you're gonna use Roy’s name in private, you have to use mine too!” Robin said. 

Red looked at Robin like he lost his head. “Does Batman know?” 

“No…. he doesn't have to,” Robin said. 

Red snorted, shaking his head. “How long have you known he’s Dick?” he asked, looking at 23. 

23 was told the morning before they left for the farm. He frowned, clamping down on the memory before it could resurface. “Not long,” he said instead. “I have kept it safe.”

“Good. Not that I doubt you wouldn’t,” Roy said. “Just surprised is all. Batman is pretty serious about his and Robin’s identities." 

“Batman does not have to know,” Robin said. 

“He probably already knows.” 

“No- well, I mean, maybe,” Robin said, pausing in his own uncertainty. “But he’s got a soft spot for Wally, so he won’t care.” 

23 looked between them, between the banter and the jokes that were built on understanding and care, a type of dynamic that he had assumed was friendship. But maybe they were family? He wasn’t sure he understood the differences, but he asked anyway. 

“Is Dick also your little brother?” 23 asked. He had been too nervous to use Robin’s secret name aloud, even when they were alone, but with the way Robin smiled, he realized he had been worrying over nothing. A pattern he was starting to notice. 

Roy chuckled, “Yeah, Dick’s the annoying one who keeps me on my toes. You're the favorite, though, Wally. I like you best.” 

23 tried to hide his smile, even as Robin whined over his head, jokingly asking Red why he couldn’t be the favorite. 

“Because Wally isn’t a gremlin,” Roy said, swatting at Robin’s head, making the other laugh and bounce backwards. 23 laughed with them, ducking out of the way, and letting Red get a better swat at Robin. 

“If I have to be related to Roy, then I’m Wally’s brother too! And he’s my favorite,” Robin quipped. 

  23 smiled, listening to their banter, feeling a part of the space rather than outside of it - he was having fun. 

23 may still struggle, and his chest may ache even in these moments of enjoyment, simply because it reminded him of what he could lose… but for now, he felt okay. Wrung out and tired, but it didn’t feel bad. 

Robin rolled out from under Roy’s hands, jumping beside 23 and using him as a shield. Roy gave up on the chase, instead reaching out to ruffle 23's hair. 

“I’m too tired to chase the gremlin right now,” he said. “Are you two hungry? Let’s go find some lunch.” 

And just like that, 23’s day got even better. 

“Wally! Did you have fun with Red and Robin?” his dad asked, smiling wide at how quickly 23 sped in for a hug. 

“Yes,” he said, “I had fun.” His voice was stiff. 23 didn’t mean to. He was happy to see his dad, but he had been thinking about how he ran away again. Guilt was a hard thing to ignore. 

His dad frowned, kneeling down, hand on his head. “You seem worried. Are you okay, Wally?” 

He was eager to show his dad all his new things - to show off the pictures and the books and even the t.v. that made the space feel more cozy. But there was a twinge in his chest that’d been there since his brothers - who promised to come back tomorrow, who he knew were always true to their words - had left. 

“I didn’t mean to!” He blurted. But if his dad didn't know, he wanted it out of the way now. “I don’t know what happened, but I turned yellow again, and went through the ceiling, and-” 

“Woah, hey, are you okay? Are you hurt?” his dad asked, hands hovering over 23’s own broken ones. 

23 shook his head. “No. I just - I didn’t mean to run again. I didn’t want to hide it from you.” 

“It’s okay, Wally. You phased again?” 

23 nodded. 

“We can learn why it happens. I’ll teach you control,” his dad promised. “I’m not angry that you did that. It was an accident. As long as you’re safe, I’m happy. Did you get back without trouble? I mean, did anyone give you any issues?” 

“No. Green Lantern took me back to my room,” 23 said, noting how his dad’s mouth thinned into a tighter frown. “He was nice.”

“Good. He better have been,” his dad said, then gave a low sigh. “Alright, as long as you’re okay.”

“O..okay,” 23 paused, finding the relief of his guilt leaving him feeling awkward. His dad wasn’t mad, and he knew he wouldn’t be but it was still such a hard thing to get used to. Then he lit up, eyes darting over to his wall, covered in the illustrations. 

“Can I show you what Red and Robin brought me?” 

“Of course, I’d love that!”

“Okay!” And just like that, his worries and guilt were brushed over with excitement. “He made these! He remembered what pages I liked the most and now I can look at them all the time.”

He sped over to the wall, excited to show it off, proud to show how much someone cared to do this for him. His dad listened to him ramble about the comic itself, even though he’d heard it all before, it didn’t matter. Then he brought snacks and drinks while they sorted through the VHS tapes. 

23 didn’t really like these types of movies either, and he felt bad about it, because Robin was his friend - his brother - and he didn’t really enjoy this gift. His dad put a hand on his shoulder, reading his face as easily as if he’d known him since he’d fallen from the tube. 

“It’s okay if you don’t like something, Wally. You can speak up if you don’t want to do something. It’s good to try things, but if you don’t like it, it’s okay to move on.” 

23 nodded, still feeling bad. 

“Hey,” his dad grinned. “I don’t like movies or shows either. They’re too slow for us. We perceive the world quicker than those without speed. It makes some things that are easier for others, harder for us to do. And if you feel that way about something, then it’s normal. And it’s healthy to acknowledge those feelings.” 

23 looked at the screen - at the images that were pretty and interesting, but too slow, too methodical for him to follow and understand, let alone pay attention. With comics, he could read and look as fast and as much as he wanted, halted only by his own hand, careful not to tear the pages. 

“I like comics more,” he admitted. 

His dad leaned over, pausing the tape. “Is there… is there anything else that interests you? Anything that you might have seen in passing, or want to try,” he asked, and 23 paused at the very open-ended question. 

“I… want to meet the soldiers again,” he said carefully, looking to his dad for approval. But he looked slightly confused. 

“Soldiers?” 

Right. Roy had said he used to be a sidekick. That’s what Robin was - to Batman. “I want to see the sidekicks again,” he amended, “If.. if they want to see me. I feel bad for attacking Conner, and would like to apologize in person.” 

“Aw, Wally,” his dad smiled. “They’ve asked about you. They were worried about what happened. I’ll talk to them and we can set up a time to meet them. No sparring,” his dad added quickly, as if that was even an option for 23 anymore. “I think.. Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. And you know what to say if you feel overwhelmed?” 

“I want to go to my room,” 23 repeated. “I promise, I’ll tell you if I feel bad.”

“I think this will be good, Wally. I think you’re going to make some new friends.”

23 smiled.  

It had been in the back of his mind, wanting to be a part of that group, wanting to cross the gap that’d been there since he attacked them when they all tumbled from the vents. He didn’t understand kindness then, not when it came unbidden without an ulterior motive. But he knew better now. 

Not everyone wanted to hurt him. For some reason he still didn’t get - one he was tempted to dissect and agonize over - they cared for him. They cared about a clone. 

/ Two Months Since the Light / 

The days had gone by in a blur. It was all doctor appointments and physical therapy, both of which he hated. But 23 liked his room, and Roy and Robin were helping him learn how to sound out letters. He was good enough now that he could piece together the words of animals when he was alone and curious. 

He grew fond of the privacy that came with nighttime. He’d turn his lamp on, enjoying a habit of snuggling in his sheets in the soft light, his hands aching from how quickly he swiped through the glossary of animals, but too intrigued to slow down. 

The doctors said his hands would hurt for a long time anyway, and a little rigid piece of  anger said - “It didn’t matter if he made it worse”. 

His headaches weren’t going away either. But at least they lessened. 23 hadn’t been struck with another wave of agony, not like the days just after he attacked Klarion. He assumed that, despite the lingering ache in his temple, it meant he was getting better. He must have knocked his head during the fight. There was no need for the doctors to poke around in there. 

It’s not like they could help. 

But today was a break in routine. He was going to meet with the sidekicks. His dad had set up a day for him to spend with Dick and his friends, in a space that was apparently reserved for them as living quarters.

They had to teleport there, and though there may be some nerves from the outcome of their last outing, 23 was excited to get out of these metal hallways. He was excited to meet the sidekicks on level grounds, to try and get to know them like he knew Robin and Roy. There was a swell of nervousness, yes, but his dad had assured him that sometimes nervousness came with excitement. It was normal. 

He knew Red wasn’t going to be there. That was disappointing, but he was also excited to have something new to tell his brother the next time he saw him. 

The flash of the teleport was like before - quick and anticlimactic. But this time, a dull throb ran through 23’s skull. He blinked against it. It didn’t hurt that bad, but it lingered, even as his dad opened the door and gently guided him out.

It’d be annoying, but he didn’t care. Especially because he was distracted by this huge room - this new place - and the casualness of it. It was decorated more like a personal space than any quarters belonging to soldiers in training. 

There was a giant television, as big as the walls in his room, sitting over an even bigger shelving of colorful books? (No, they looked like thin VHS tapes) and boxes with wires.

Comfy looking furniture was set up around the t.v. 23 immediately recognized - passed the plush chairs and long coffee table - a giant couch. 23 knew what a couch was. But he’d never been allowed to sit when he wasn’t expected to be sleeping. Even if his dad was here, a tiny part of him felt nervous at the sight of such luxurious seating, reminding him of tired legs and hours of standing in a too quiet, too still room. 

He glanced around further as they walked in, fingers fidgeting at his sides. There was an open wall with counter space, and an excess of drawers and cupboards. There were all kinds of machines on the counter and a giant humming box against the wall. He didn’t recognize anything in here. 

“The kids’ll be here any minute now. First time I’m early for something. Here, let me get you a snack,” his dad led him to one of the high stools behind the counter. 23 sat, his hands fumbling awkwardly in front of him before a glass of juice and three peeled oranges were placed in front of him. 

“Thank you.”

“Always, kiddo. If you get hungry, just ask. Me or Robin. I’ll be hanging back to let you get to know the team, but I’ll be right here.”

Nerves flared. He distracted himself by grabbing the orange, unable to help but smile, anticipating the burst of flavor before he bit into it. 23 long forgot how to live without flavor, specifically the intense ones. 

Oranges were especially strong, and after a life of gray bars, their color and acidity had quickly become a favorite of 23’s. He had thought the fruit’s name had been a joke the first time he heard it, but Robin assured him it was correct. Words could have more than one meaning, he said.

It didn’t take long to finish the snack. It never did, and 23 wasn’t sure if it was a selfish thing that he expected the food now. That, while grateful, he hadn’t been surprised with the oranges. 

The thought was short-lived. He saw Batman first, the imposing figure gliding silently into the room. Behind him, the sidekicks were in a group, full of muted chatter and laughter. 23 stood up off the stool, immediately anxious. His dad was right by his side, having sped around to put a hand on his shoulder. 23 looked up at the encouraging smile. 

“You’re okay, Wally. Remember. Tell me if it’s too much,” and his voice was patient and kind. As always. He was safe. 

23 nodded. He was okay. Just nervous, especially when those eyes looked at him, eyes that had last seen him hurt Conner, who he could see hanging further behind the group with the green girl. 

Robin smiled and waved, speaking to the gilled-boy and the blonde girl. He ran over, and 23 finally let his nerves loosen enough to meet him halfway, giving him a brief hug. 

“Hey, Wally! I’m happy you’re finally getting to see our hang-out,” he spread his arms. “Welcome! Flash, you look nice,” he added, nodding to 23’s dad. 

The man smiled, but made no move to step forward, and 23 felt his chest flare in panic a little as Robin gestured to the sidekicks. They had stopped just feet away. 23 was alone in the spotlight and his gut churned. But Robin was at his side, voice happy as he re-introduced 23 by his secret name, but they already knew that, he had to remind himself. 

“Wally, this is M’gann and Conner,” Robin pointed to the green girl first, and 23 struggled to meet her kind wave and smile, recalling that he had knocked her into a wall upon their very first encounter. Conner was still straight-faced as ever, but he nodded to 23 and it loosened more of the knots in his chest. 

“Artemis,” the blonde girl said for herself. Her arms were crossed. She seemed a little more defensive than the rest, uncomfortable like 23, and he gave her a quick nod. She must not like the spotlight either, he figured. 

“And I’m Kaldur. We’ve met, but it’s nice to have a proper introduction,” the gilled-boy stepped forward, and there was an air of confidence about him that belied a leader. 

23 swallowed. His voice felt small in the large room. “It’s nice to meet you too - again, I mean… I go by 23.” he added. He wasn’t comfortable with them using Wally. Not yet. 

There were frowns. Kaldur didn’t look pleased, but Robin clapped 23 on the shoulder, his cheer never fading. “Let’s hang out on the couch. We brought snacks!” 

“And drinks!” M’gann added, floating happily into the air, showing off the two heavy bags she carried. Conner paused, then lifted his own, looking a lot more awkward. 

“Flash, would you care to join us?” Kaldur asked, voice distinctly polite. 

23 looked up at his dad, who paused in consideration. But it was Batman who spoke up for him.

 “We’ll be in the kitchen. Supervising,” he said, and he gave the Flash a pointed look. “Pretend we’re not here,” and he passed through the sidekicks, pausing beside 23 and saying in a low but kind voice:

“Try to have fun, 23. This is not a test. You’re here to be with your friend, Robin, and maybe make more. Okay?”

“Okay,” 23 had to bite really hard on the sir, but he was getting better at it everyday. 

“Flash. Sit,” Batman ordered, grabbing his dad's shoulder and wheeling him towards the open-walled room.

They sat on the stools, Batman pulling out some paperwork he slid in front of Flash, who sighed and tried to push it away. The two were still in sight but out of the way. His dad caught his eye and waved, encouraging him forward. 

23 grew nervous again, but Robin already had him by the wrist, walking to the couch and explaining how they picked out some board games to break the ice. M’gann and Connor were setting food and drink containers out on the long table. 

Artemis was arguing with Kaldur about “missing pieces” in one game - a box of colorful trinkets and an even more colorful square that folded open into a bigger square. 

But all 23 could focus on was Conner, and the guilt he felt at how casual the other clone was acting. 23 felt bad, but no one else seemed bothered by what happened. 23 had even been told that Conner forgave him, so… so why did 23 want to apologize right now. Was it appropriate to bring it up again, or would it be rude?

  More than ever, 23 wished his mind wasn’t working as fast as his legs. And then he realized that cool blue eyes were looking right at him, and 23 had been staring at Conner and wasn’t looking away. 

He froze up, embarrassed, hating how Conner’s brow quirked in a silent question. M’gann had paused to look up to, and 23 swallowed, panic welling in his throat. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I really hate that I did it. I- I’m sorry,” he stammered. It sounded stupid. It sounded so dumb, but Conner's face softened at the same time that M’gann smiled. 

“I’m not upset. I understand,” he said calmly. “I forgive you,” he added, and 23 nodded, feeling a weight lift off his chest despite the embarrassment. 

“O-okay, thank you.” 

“Here, Mini-Flash!”

Robin passed him a cold drink. 23 took it, fingers aching as he curled them around the metal can, the pain relieved by the cold seeping through his bandages.

It was a soda. His dad had brought him all kinds of flavors one day when they ate, and 23 noted that his favorite - a red can with a cherry fruit on the front - had been given to him. Already opened. He hadn’t been able to open the little tabs on top since the farm. 

He smiled at Robin and took a drink, pleased at the bubbling sensation. Even drinks had as much variety as food out here. It always cheered him up. 

“Perhaps we should start with a more simple card game,” Kaldur noted. 

Artemis had been unfolding the instructions and game rules. She looked up, as if to argue, then sighed and tossed the sheet over her shoulder. 

“Go fish?” she suggested, but her tone indicated it was some kind of joke. But maybe it wasn’t… because Kaldur nodded and looked at him and Robin.

“If that’s agreeable.” 

“Do you know what cards are?” Robin asked. 

He did. To an extent. He’d seen others use them, make gambles with them, but he didn’t understand the rules, let alone seen a card up close. He shook his head. Robin nodded back and looked at Kaldur. “We should explain the cards first and let him see them.”

Shame. It was a familiar feeling, and he looked down. He didn’t know cards, but to these sidekicks it seemed like a simple concept. Stupidly simple. 

“Of course,” Kaldur said kindly, moving to sit on the couch, knees propped against the table. “Let’s get comfortable, shall we?” 

Robin bumped him in the shoulder as he hopped over the back of the couch, casually patting the cushion beside him for 23 to join. 23 blinked, then carefully walked around the furniture, feeling his heartbeat speed up again. 

Artemis had fallen into the couch beside M’gann, leaning over to snag a soda for herself. 23 forgot he was holding a soda of his own and absently loosened the grip he had on the soft metal, causing shallow dents in the side. His fingers ached but he ignored it. He wanted to take another drink, but it was suddenly hard to swallow even a breath of air. 

“You can sit here,” Robin said, voice a lot more cautious than it had been, but no less patient. He patted the spot beside him again. “Right next to me!” 

23 wasn’t sure why. A part of him was frozen - and he thought of meetings under the Light - of standing there silently for hours while the members lounged around on fancy-looking furnishings, more often than not arguing over their plans rather than building them into something useful. 23 had always been curious about the big, red couch that Teekl was especially fond of. 

He realized he was hesitating too long. He was given permission. He should just sit. 

So… he sat, just on the edge of the seat, and his eyes went wide. He knew this kind of furniture looked soft, but it felt like sitting on his bed. It was nothing like wooden stools and chairs. He pressed his hands down into the padding, over the blanket thrown across it, and he wondered how anyone in the Light could sit through a meeting on something so soft. 

It was soft enough to fall asleep on. For a sitting implement, it seemed impractically comfortable. But maybe that was because this kind of furniture was used for “hanging out” with friends. Maybe it was supposed to be calming. Afterall, words had more than one meaning. Perhaps things had more than one purpose. 

“You okay?” Robin asked, and he jumped, having forgotten his brother was sitting right next to him. 

He nodded quickly. “Yes. It’s nice.”

“The base?” 

“The couch,” 23 clarified. “It’s soft.”

“Have you never sat on a couch before?” Artemis asked, and Kaldur and Robin immediately pinned her with displeased looks. But 23 didn’t see the reason for it. Artemis looked a little flustered, hiding it with crossed arms, and 23 was reminded of his own tendency to blurt what was on his mind - how he felt stupid afterwards even if the question was meant to be genuine. 

“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” 23 said. Artemis looked at him, eyes narrowed a little. Again, 23 saw his own discomfort reflected back at him. “I’ve seen couches, I was never allowed on them. I was surprised by how soft it is.”

“Okay, so I’m an asshole,” Artemis sighed, closing her eyes like she did something wrong. But she didn’t. 

“It’s okay,” he said, desperate to make the air feel light again. “I ask questions all the time. I can’t help it either.”

Artemis cracked a smile, but it was still heavily restrained. “Yeah, I guess I can be too blunt. Glad you didn’t take it personally… You know, you can sit back. The couch feels better when your back is supported,” she added, waving a hand awkwardly, as if she suddenly didn’t know what to do with herself. 

23 looked over at Robin, who had been leaning forward. Robin smiled at the attention and immediately fell backwards, into the plush of the cushions. It looked comfy. 23 hesitated then fell back too, immediately caught by the soft back of the couch. He smiled, unable to help it - he could imagine sitting here for hours, reading his comics. It was just like being in bed, but reading would be so much easier! 

“I like the couch,” he grinned at Robin, who grinned back. 

“We’re so getting you a couch for your room,” Robin said. 

“Really?” 23 lifted himself up, hands sinking into the cushions. “You would do that?” 

“Yes, dude,” Robin said like it was obvious.

Then Robin twisted to look over the back of the furniture, to the two adults in the room. 23 perked up, having forgotten his dad and Batman were sitting at the counter in his burst of excitement. His dad was smiling at him, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and 23 wondered what part of their conversation made him sad. Sometimes he said things that upset his dad, even if his dad tried to hide it.

“Can we-” Robin asked, cut off by Batman who raised a gloved hand. 

“It’ll be taken care of. There’ll be a couch in his room before the day’s over,” Batman said, voice gruff, but the words kindled excitement in 23. His dad patted Batman on the shoulder, thankful. 

Robin sat back down. “See? We can hang out on your couch now when I visit!” 

23 realized that couches must be a normal thing - just like lunch and dinners - things banal to others but alien to himself. 

“It must be exciting, getting to experience new things,” Kaldur said. “We’re happy to see you getting to enjoy them.” 

23 nodded, not sure how to answer. “...Robin and my dad teach me new stuff everyday. I… am still ignorant to a lot.”

“We’d love to show you new things!” M’gann exclaimed. “Have you had cookies yet? I made some just for you!” 

Cookies. He wasn’t sure he heard the word. “I don’t know what that is,” he risked admitting. And M’gann gasped, shooting into the air to fly over one of her bags. She immediately withdrew a plastic container, then floated over to him, offering extended eagerly. 

“Please, be honest! I’m still learning to cook too.” 

23 knew the word cook - to heat something up with fire. Klarion had cooked a lot of things with his magic flames. He eyed the container warily.

 “What are cookies?” he asked again, looking at M’gann but leaning toward Robin. Robin chuckled and took the container, thanking M’gann as he opened the lid. 

“They’re food - a dessert, like cake,” Robin said, and 23 perked up. He knew cake. He liked cake a lot. 

But cookies didn't look like cake at all. These were hard flat discs. But he did recognize chocolate bits mixed into the food. Robin handed a cookie over and 23, though wary of the audience, took a bite. He didn’t even realize that he ate two of them, that Robin had handed them over one after the other with a smirk on his face. 23 blinked, crumbs on his face, and looked at M’gann. 

“You made these with fire?” he asked, unable to understand how something this delicious was made with something so destructive and painful. 

There were a few chuckles from the group. 23 blushed, but M’gann just nodded, ecstatic that he seemed to like them so much.

 “Yes! It is called baking! I use ingredients to make doughy balls, and use heat to cook them. It was tricky at first. There’s a lot of steps, oh, and there are many appliances I had to learn to use!”

“C-can anyone learn it?” 23 asked, tentatively hopeful. 

“Yes! I can teach you!” She faltered a little. “I am not the best teacher… I’m still learning,” she brightened again, “But Conner says that mistakes help you learn, so maybe we can make mistakes and  learn together!” 

“I’d love to see these two in the kitchen,” Artemis said. 

“I want to help make cookies!” Robin interjected. “We can make all kinds too. They’re like sandwiches - there’s all kinds of flavors we can make.” 

“Perhaps next time, which I hope would be soon,” Kaldur said, “We can make an afternoon of baking. I’ll admit, I could stand to learn too. I’ve always been curious to make my own bread.” 

“Ooh, actually, that’s a good idea,” Artemis added. She looked at 23, “If you like sandwiches, wait until you try them with homemade bread.” 

“Can’t we just make a bunch of stuff?” Conner asked. 

“Yes! I’ll bring all the ingredients," M’gann said. “Oh, this will be so much fun!”

23 felt calm. As the voices passed back and forth, declaring what kind of foods they wanted to make, and asking 23 if he tried this thing and that. He didn’t speak up unless directly asked to, still awkward around these sidekicks… but he was also enjoying himself. It was fun, to be in a crowd of smiles and laughs, to be a part of the group and not outside of it, always looking in. 

He smiled. And then his headache - constantly sitting in the back of his skull - cracked open. He gasped, dropping his soda. The care-free voices turned panicked and he felt Robin grab him, keeping him from curling up and off the couch. 

His head - he couldn't move, it hurt so badly. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was sure he was going to break his teeth with how hard he clenched them together. 

“Wally, what’s wrong? No, no,” His dad’s arms were grabbing him, trying to lift him up. “Bats, tell the emergency wing I’m on my way-” 

“Wait!” M’gann said, and he felt his dad turn to look at her. “I- there’s something in his head - I felt it just now.”

“In his- what do you mean-” his dad sounded really scared. 23 was in too much pain to even try and reassure him. 

M’gann sounded on the verge of tears. “It’s magic. It’s doing something to his head - I - I can look, but I think my uncle might be better-” 

“Your uncle is off-world at the moment,” Batman said, voice floating somewhere beside him. “You’re the only mind-reader we have on hand. If you think you’ll cause more harm than good-” 

“No, no… He’s hurting, I can try. Let me see,” her voice came closer. “Okay, I’m going to look in your head, Wally,” she said, voice firming up, losing the slight wobble of fear. A part of him felt reassured when she used his secret name, as if in his pain-delirious state, it made her all the more trustworthy. 

There was a sharp sting in the middle of his head, then he felt the pain drain there, as if attacking the mental intrusion. M’gann gasped, her hands tightening around his head. The other voices drowned out into a buzzing nothing. And then there was green - angry and indignant and familiar. 23 couldn’t move. M’gann screamed, then her hands were gone, the green blinding him, throwing M’gann across the room.  

Then everything went silent. 

He felt the neutral temperature of the room turn cold, a breeze pressing against his face and his hands falling into grass. He blinked his eyes open, startled to see the vivid green. He looked up, disoriented, confused, to find himself in a field, trees growing around the clearing, far from any civilization. 

The pain was gone. But he hardly noticed. He heard shuffling behind him, groaning, then felt Robin grab his shoulder, yanking him to his feet and shoving him backwards. Robin was here, so were a few other sidekicks… but 23 barely noticed them. 

Klarion was here, standing several yards away, hands balls at his fists as he stomped his feet into the grass, tearing it - frustrated about something. 

Robin was here, that was bad, and so was Artemis and Conner. M’gann and Kaldur weren’t here. He hoped M’gann was okay, but it was a fleeting thought, suffocated at the realization that his dad had been left behind too. That's good, but also bad. Because 23 didn’t want his dad in danger, but he was scared without him. 

Even worse, Klarion seemed angry. That was always a terrible thing. 23 felt frozen on the spot, recalling how he brutalized the witch’s face. It looked fine now, though with a few lines of green magic festering along his cheek, still repairing the last of the damage. 23 knew he was going to pay for it. 

“No, dammit!” Klarion was seething, glaring at Robin. “I was supposed to get all of you sidekick brats!”

23’s heart clenched. What did he mean by that? How did he take 23 from his home? Had it been the headaches? 23 felt sick. Why hadn’t he told anyone about them? And then all his thoughts halted, turning to white noise. He didn’t even register Robin beside him anymore, not when a second figure walked from the trees behind the witch. 

His hands were clasped behind his back - a huge imposing man with dark eyes that seemed to hold 23 down like a knife. 23 lost all his breath. Commander Savage stopped beside Klarion, surveying the tense sidekicks who were without their weapons. 

“It’s fine, Klarion. Three is enough for the test,” Commander said.

His voice was agonizingly familiar - collected and calm, hiding the man’s true emotions like a bottomless well. And then he raised his voice, hand gesturing to the spot beside him, and 23’s entire body went cold with dread. 

“23, return.” 

Robin practically snarled, “He’s not going with-”

23 sped past his friend  - his brother - and found himself standing beside his Commander, back straight and eyes forward. He didn’t even mean to follow the order. It just… happened. He had to. It was his Commander. 

23 tried not to tremble, but he couldn’t hide his fear, not like he used to. He couldn’t hide the tears slipping free down his cheeks. The Commander didn’t comment on it, just stared at the sidekicks, letting them realize just how deeply he had his claws in the clone. 

Artemis and Conner looked shocked, but Robin looked absolutely crushed, his face tight and eyes narrowed in an anger 23 had never seen before. Under the fear, was a wave of guilt, and 23 hated himself for it. 

“You-! Give him back!” Robin ran forward, lacking the usual strategic precision he moved with.

Artemis and Conner immediately leapt after him, Conner rushed towards Klarion, who summoned Teekl in their beastly form. Artemis slipped a hidden dagger from her belt. She and Robin rushed for the Commander - bad, bad, this was bad! 23’s heart leapt, but he didn’t move to intervene. Not until the Commander’s voice rang in his head - 

“23, protect me,” he said causally, in the way he did during training, when he was curious about the limits of his speed or strength. 

23 moved, and he found himself sweeping Robin off his feet, grabbing his arm and pushing him backwards. His broken hands pulsed in pain, but he ignored the fiery pull of his tendons. 

He didn’t hit Robin. He couldn’t. But he couldn’t let them near the Commander either. He sped in front of Artemis as she rushed to stab the Commander, who just stood there, arms still behind his back. He grabbed Artemis' ankle as she leapt. More pain, this time lancing up his right wrist, near crippling, made him drop her mid-yank. She flew backwards, his strength sending her flying into the ground, but she turned in time to catch herself. 

“Wally, stop! We don’t want to hurt you, dammit!” Artemis said, rushing forward again, trying to dodge around his strikes, to slip past him to the infuriatingly calm man behind him. 23 didn’t let her, grappling with her, trying not to hurt her as he threw her back again and again. 

 Robin suddenly leapt over them both, mouth twisted in a determined grimace as he tried to aim a kick at Commander’s head. 23 kicked Artemis, almost mindlessly, focused solely on his order. He sped backwards, right into the path of the hit. 

Robin fumbled, twisting mid-air. He missed, but 23 caught his leg and threw him at Artemis who was just getting up, his heart racing wildly as he heard them both gasp at the impact. Behind them, Conner was roughed up from a monstrous Tkeel. Klarion was keeping his distance, letting his cat do the work, grinning viciously as he watched 23 hurt his friends. 23’s heart pounded even harder. 

He was overwhelmed. His hands hurt. He was scared and he wanted to go to his room. He wanted his comics. He wanted to run on the farm. He wanted his dad. He was crying freely now, shoulder shaking as his throat clenched around his sobs. Robin was getting back up. Artemis still had a hand on her dagger. 23 didn’t move. He didn’t want to hurt them-

“23,” the Commander’s voice cracked through the air, disgust leaking through. “Attack.” 

He hit Artemis first, grabbing the dagger from her hands, cutting his own palm without care as he tossed it far off to the side. Artemis growled and kicked at his side. He sped backwards but she kept moving. His punches and kicks were fast and precise. She looked pissed. 23 blocked her as he backed up. 

Then she dropped and Robin was in front of him, fist flying into his face. He was fast enough to dodge, but Robin’s furious look caught him off guard, and he was more dazed than hurt, when his gloved fist made contact. Someone swept his legs out from under him, then grabbed his wrists, trying to restrain him. 23 saw Aremtis out of the corner of his eye, rushing at the Commander again. 

She couldn’t reach him. 23 had an order. He had to follow it. He reared his head back, smashing it into Robin’s nose, then flinging himself forward. Both their bodies were sent crashing into the grass. He sped his arms free, hands now trembling and stiff from pain, and sprinted into Artemis. She grunted, both of them going flying past the Commander. Klarion cackled in the air. 

The Commander looked up at the witch, then snapped at his side. “23, return.” 

Artemis reached out, missing his ankle as he sped off the ground, back in position next to his superior. His body ached. His arms wouldn’t stop shaking, and though he’d stop crying, it was only because he felt like all his emotions were trapped under a thin layer of ice - numbed, but waiting to crack free. 

“Come on, Savage! He’s not even trying! Tell him to kill the brats!” Klarion crowed.

That ice cracked a little. 23 turned his head, looking at the Commander in a blatant manner of disrespect. 23 didn’t mean to. He had no say. He was a soldier to the Commander, not a son - he had no right to speak out. But that order… it would be too much. 

“Please, sir. No,” he begged, voice tiny. 

The Commander’s causal expression hardened. It pinched into something that made 23’s tongue shrivel and die. His dark eyes seemed to grow colder, like frost over steel. Then he struck 23 across the face. He tried to stay standing. It was expected of him, but 23’s vision swam and he tasted blood in his mouth. 

“Savage!”

He heard Robin snarl, and his footsteps racing towards them. The Commander looked down at 23, like he was already a failure, and said three terrible words:

“23. Kill Robin.”