Chapter Text
Bart came from a horrible place.
This is something he recognized almost instantly upon entering the past, something he knew from reading the textbooks... but that was head knowledge.
He didn't accept that he'd been put through hell before being here for a while, before finally being able to see what a family was like, what not living in constant fear was like.
It had been one of those days when he realized just how different he was from his family, his grandpa and Wally and the rest.
He'd been busily going through Wally's phone (had to keep up the annoying prankster persona), going through mostly kitten pictures. They were extremely adorable compared to the bedraggled strays that populated his earth. It was still strange to him that people pampered these pets. He could see keeping a dog, as protection, but a cat? A cat was useless.
Bart tilted his head at one particularly cute shot, a kitten giving the camera a face like it needed... whatever it was kittens needed. Milk or something. Big, sad eyes.
He laughed a little. He'd never seen a kitten look quite like that. Usually, they were starving little things that someone put out of their misery—and sometimes into dinner, though full-grown cats were preferred.
Thoughts of starving brought his hand to his neck, feeling the space where the absent collar had been. As a speedster, he had particularly suffered from lack of food. Sometimes he wondered if he would be as tall as Wally otherwise.
“Bart! What the hell?”
Speak of the devil.
“Hey, Wally! How do you feel about Wall-meister, Walls, Wall-man, Wall--”
Wally's face was angry as he cut Bart off. “That's my phone, Bart! Note, my phone! Give it back.”
Bart let out a laugh, saying, “But how am I supposed to look at kittens? Your phone is crash!”
“Get your own phone!” Wally hadn't tried to take it back yet, instead looming over him.
“Oh, you're a funny guy. Grandpa says thirteen year olds shouldn't have phones, and he kicked me off the laptop earlier, so...” Bart deliberately scrolled on to the next picture.
Wally reached for his phone, but Bart just moved out of the way.
“Just a minute, just a minute! Oooh, who have you been talking to?”
That was when Wally did the unexpected.
One moment, Bart was fine. The next, Wally had raised his fist and shouted at him.
He didn't even know what. He couldn't even explain why. The phone was dropped instantly, as his hands covered his head, his breath freezing in his lungs. “No!”
Wally seemed to stop in shock. “Whoa man, calm down--”
Bart flipped up to his feet, heart still pounding in his chest. He ran for the door, but was instantly blocked by his grandpa, the Flash.
And Barry was looking down at him like he'd seen the whole thing.
“Hey, Bart, you okay?”
Bart let out a shaky, vibrating laugh, saying, “Hahahaha, I'm totally crash! Not feeling the mode, nope, not at all, just, you know, play-acting, like children do!”
“Bart, why don't you sit down?” Barry gestured towards the couch he'd just left, where Wally still stood, looking apologetic and holding his phone.
“Grandpa, it's okay, just got startled, you know how demonic Wally looks sometimes—just saw uh, Ghost Rider, and you know how much he looks like that sad-faced guy!” Bart's nerves were all over the place, like fried wires.
Wally glared. “I don't look like Nicholas Cage! What are you talking about?”
Grandpa Barry looked a lot like he wished Iris was home. But she was out for her job, reporting on various events that evening. Instead, he carefully put a hand on Bart's shoulder, and steered him to the couch.
“Come on. We're talking, at least a little.”
Bart sat down unwillingly. He knew he couldn't outrun Barry, and besides which, what would happen after that? He glanced up at Wally and gave him a grin. “I bet he did this to you too at this age, must be such fond memories for you!”
Wally shifted a bit away from the couch. “Don't know what you're talking about, Bart.”
Barry sat a little ways away from Bart, but still on the couch. “Bart, I saw the way you reacted. Most people wouldn't really notice, since it happened fast, but, you know, I'm the Flash, so...”
Bart stared a second. Well, more like a millisecond. “I don't know what you're talking about, Grandpa.”
Barry sighed. He glanced over at Wally, but continued on, “Bart, I know fear when I see it. You know Wally wouldn't hurt you, right?”
Bart didn't immediately answer. To the normal observer, this wasn't much of a hesitation. But Wally and Barry picked up on it instantly.
“Oh my god,” Wally said, “Bart, you don't seriously think...”
“No, nonono, of course not! You're my cousin-type-relative, why would I even think that you could get all moded like that?” Bart said nervously, trying hard to hide the nerves. Of course, it was harder now that he felt like he'd been caught on to like he had been.
Barry was looking at him seriously. “Bart, none of us here would hurt you. Not even Wally, despite you two not always getting along.”
Again, Bart let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, yeah, I know, Grandpa. Okay, cool, are we done? I have a lot of stuff to do, run some laundry, clean my room, iron my suits--”
“You don't iron spandex,” Wally pointed out, arms crossed over his chest as he looked down at Bart. “I don't think you really do know we wouldn't hurt you.”
“What? What are you, crazy? I know that!” Bart said. Technically, he did. He knew in his head that they wouldn't hurt him. Most probably. All right, there was a teeny tiny chance, he couldn't just say 100% they'd never do anything to hurt him, but he could come close. Close was close enough.
“Bart. Blue Beetle told the League that you told him that the future you come from came through a Reach apocalypse. Now, I don't know what happened, but I'm going to guess that you came from a very traumatic time,” Barry said, gently.
“Traumatic?” Bart repeated. This was not a word he was all that familiar with. He seemed to recall it in texts, but it had never held personal meaning for him.
“You know, painful? Like emotionally and stuff?” Wally said, scratching the back of his head. “Like, to make you react like that?”
“You were going to hit me,” Bart muttered, “That's a normal reaction.”
“I wasn't going to hit you, I was just mad!” Wally insisted, glancing over at Barry.
Barry nodded. “Bart, I've seen that kind of reaction before. I think... whatever you went through, you might have some... trauma. Uh, maybe PTSD? It's something that happens to a lot of crime fighters, and there's nothing to be ashamed of--”
“Okay, wait a second—trauma? Me? Like, stuff where you cry and stuff? Ha, that's funny, Grandpa. My mind is crash!” Bart wasn't about to get into this stuff. Frankly, these people from the past could be awfully touchy about feelings. He didn't totally get it, though he definitely had them.
Where he came from, you had to choke down your true feelings, whether it be to make allies or protect yourself.
That was why he'd had to do such extensive research into the past. That was why he'd created the Impulse persona. Honestly, a name like Impulse (even if chosen in the moment) was a perfect reminder of who he had to be.
Barry was giving him an empathetic look. Even Wally looked somewhat sympathetic.
“Bart, I'm serious. I think you've been through a lot and you have no one to talk to about it. I know we need to be careful about the future and all that, but it wouldn't hurt for you to open up a little.”
Bart stared at Barry. He couldn't be serious. Bart hadn't even been maimed. He still had all his parts, only a few scars, and yeah he didn't exactly have a family in the future, but that was pretty normal.
“Uh... you know what would help? Playing video games! Wally, I'll race you in Mario Kart!”
“Please take this seriously,” Barry sighed.
“Look, I don't have problems! If anyone has PTSD or whatever, it's that Arsenal guy! I mean, he's missing an arm! You should go talk to him.” Bart was nervously tapping his foot, the appendage going a mile a minute.
“It's not a competition, and it's not like if he has it, you don't.” Barry brushed back his blond hair, obviously trying to think of a way to get through to Bart.
“Though, yeah, Arsenal's probably all kinds of fu--”
“Wally!” Barry gave Wally a sharp look.
As Bart didn't know the word fuck.
Bart grinned anyway. “I'm totally crash, Grandpa! Really! I mean, seriously, nothing big happened to me while I was in the future. I didn't die, I wasn't maimed, I wasn't exactly raped--”
“What do you mean 'exactly raped?'” Barry said sharply.
Bart paled. He did not like that tone at all. “Oh, uh, nothing. I mean, I'm not exactly a virgin--”
“You're thirteen!” Wally said, shock obvious in his tone.
Bart blinked. “So?”
Barry buried his face in his hands. He looked like he thought he was in over his head. “Bart, did someone... force you to have sex, of any kind, with them?”
“Well, I didn't like it, it's kinda gross, but you know, I'm okay. She was okay enough, and I mean, I didn't have much else to barter with, and I needed a part for the time machine.” Bart glanced between the two, and was shocked to see the looks on their faces. Wally's seemed consumed with anger, and Barry's looked a lot more empathetic, but still with traces of anger on it.
He should not have even mentioned it. He should not have mentioned sex at all.
“How old was she?” Barry looked like he wanted to grab him, though Bart wasn't entirely sure as to the endgame.
Bart was quiet a moment. He felt strangely like he'd done something wrong, even though this was something that was very everyday for where he came from. People had sex quickly, desperately, often in exchange for some service or item.
He'd been shocked to see sex scenes in movies.
“Bart,” Barry said softly.
Bart muttered, “She was thirty, but that's okay--”
“That's not okay, Bart, that's rape!” Wally snapped at him, seeming furious.
Bart shrank back into the couch cushions for a moment, but then, suddenly, he felt emboldened by his own anger. How dare they look down on him for something that had been necessary, that wasn't exactly wrong in his time?
“Hey! I'd like to see you survive in the future without superspeed and without all your stupid stuff! Try being a thirteen year old orphan, and then--”
“Orphan?” Barry's eyes were wide.
Bart's were too, instantly. He just stared stupidly, mouth opening and closing a moment, trying to come up with an explanation. He'd really let too much slip this time.
Wally was staring too.
“Bart, what exactly--”
“Sorry, gotta go!” Bart said, at a superspeed that Wally probably couldn't even pick up.
He was out the door in an instant, and he knew Grandpa Barry could catch up with him, but he just had to run, had to get away before he started crying or spilling everything.
He could not spill everything. If they had even an inkling of how horrible the future was, what would happen? He was supposed to covertly fix everything, the key word being covert!
He ran without much thought, all over the world, across an ocean or two, one long line, only deviated from when something was in the way.
Finally, he stopped at a cliffside in Europe. He could see the twinkling lights of a city in the distance, and the gasps in his breathing, he realized, were not from running.
For the first time since he was a small child, the tears started to run down his face.
For everything he'd lost. Everything he'd never had.
Everything he'd probably fucked up now.
He had ruined everything.
And all he could do was sit there and bawl like a small child.