Chapter Text
Barry hates the Justice League interrogation rooms. They’re always so chilly, and the seats are cheap plastic seemingly manufactured from backaches.
It’s even worse when they’re on the prisoner’s side, in the prisoner’s cuffs, and the most anyone has done to tell them why they’re here is hand them a blood-covered knife, tell them to examine their guilt, then leave them there for three hours(as far as they can tell).
“So, let’s go over the facts. Batman is dead, because someone was able to identify a seam in his neck armor, and stabbed a seven-inch knife into his throat, all before he could throw the batarang in his hand.” Superman lists off. “The knife in question is identical to one which I have seen you, Flash, holding several times. It has your fingerprints on it. You do realize which way the evidence is pointing, right?”
Barry remains impassive. “Diana showed me the knife. It’s a Cold Steel Recon Scout, not a custom one-of-a-kind knife. They make them in factory quantities, and sell them to the general public- literally anyone could have bought one if they have five hundred dollars spare. I hardly see how that’s hard evidence.”
“It has your fingerprints on it.” Superman reiterates. “And we took them before you touched it.”
“Lot of people have said that, and my fingerprints are just very generic, and easily smudged. You do remember that one time a sample turned up a match for me on the computer, when GL took them from their own hands in a room I’ve never been in in my life?” Barry shrugs. “It could be the fingerprints of anyone without any scarring on their fingers. Which is most people. And it’s probably not me, because I wear gloves everywhere.”
“Name one other person who has the combination of speed, strength, and willingness to spend 500 dollars on a knife and not retrieve it that would be required to pull this off.”
“Deathstroke.” Barry counts off, somewhat insulted by the imposition that they’d just abandon a knife in a dead body to rust. “Cheshire. Black Spider. Ra’s al Ghul. Joker, even. He definitely has a motive to kill Batman, the smarts to identify a weak point, and who knows why the Joker does anything, really. The rest are assassins.”
“He was killed in the Batcave, Flash.” Superman leans back in his chair. “Only the Justice League has access, and even we don’t actually know where it is.”
“You sure? I doubt a villain would tell you that, if it was part of a murder plot.” Barry challenges. Idly, they cross their hands together, and let a spare handcuff key slip between their fingers into their palm. “It’s funny how when someone’s murdered with a knife, your assumption is that it must be your teammate with a completely harmless interest in knives rather than one of the dozens upon dozens of knife-wielding villains with physical enhancements- especially since he had time to draw a batarang but not throw it.”
Superman makes a pained sound. “Flash, we wouldn’t be doing this if we didn’t have hard evidence, and an open-and-shut case.”
“You didn’t even let me speak before handcuffing me, and hauling me off to the interrogation room.” Barry hisses. They yank their hands back as far as the chain will let them- slipping the key into the lock as they do so. “I am tired of people assuming I’m up to something suspicious just because I like and collect knives, and it seemingly clashes with the rest of my personality.”
“Flash-” Superman starts, and Barry doesn’t let him finish.
“The knife is a commercial model that could belong to anyone. The fingerprints could belong to almost anyone. I wear the same gloves everywhere, and I haven’t heard a word about fibre evidence. I was in Spain at the time. You have no evidence.”
In the blink of an eye, Barry turns the key, pulls the handcuffs open, and tosses the handcuffs down on the table. Superman doesn’t even notice when Barry pickpockets the original key out of his pocket, and swaps it for the one originally in their ring.
Barry slows to normal time, looks straight at where Superman’s eyes should be, then tosses the key down on the table. It jangles metallically as it bounces off the cheap plastic. “You’ll be needing that. I’m done here.”
With that, they stride out of the room, through the still-open doorway(sloppy, Superman), and into the hallway.
From here, they can hear Hal arguing with Wonder Woman the floor below. Barry’s heart soars- Hal was in space when Barry got accused, and without his presence, no one was willing to question Superman’s accusations once he got started.
To be fair, he is completely right that Barry had a motive. Batman is an uptight asshole- and not only is he an asshole, he seems to have an awful amount of sympathy for rich white people dying: Barry can smell the expensive cologne on him when he hasn’t had time to wash off completely. Barry hasn’t exactly kept secret their distaste for the overprivileged 1%(to put it mildly), and neither have they really hidden their dislike of Batman or complete lack of sympathy at his death.
But Barry would never go out of their way to kill him. Even if the world, and Barry’s life is probably better off without him in several ways, they’d never kill someone. Especially not with one of their knives- blood is horrific on steel, and leaving it in the wound? That’s just asking for a permanent stain, and serious rust.
It really feels like someone’s trying to frame Barry. They can’t think of anyone who would know them well enough, and have the motive to ruin their life like this, though.
There’s a cough, as Martian Manhunter decides to announce his presence officially. Barry turns, and waves vaguely in his direction.
“Flash, why are you here?” Martian Manhunter asks, tone curious. “I had thought you were being interrogated, and I saw Superman cuff you.”
Well, that’s easy. Superman really shouldn’t make himself so easy to pickpocket. Asshole really should have checked.
“Well, I got tired of sitting through a sham interrogation without a hint of due process.” Barry doesn’t bother hiding their annoyance. “Didn’t let me say anything. Pretty sure he was just going to leave me in there for another three hours if I didn’t confess immediately.”
“Did you do it?” Martian Manhunter asks- still nothing except faint curiosity in his voice.
“No, I didn’t.” Barry says, completely truthfully. “I didn’t kill Batman.”
Martian Manhunter hums. “I can sense you’re telling the truth. Perhaps refrain from pickpocketing your teammates in the future, however.”
Barry glares in Martian Manhunter’s direction. “MM, are you reading my mind without telling me again?”
“My apologies, but I had to determine whether the accusations are accurate. As they are not, I apologize for the intrusion.” Martian Manhunter sighs. “I shall have a talk with Superman about his treatment of you- and apologize to Green Lantern for doubting his faith in you.”
“Bye, MM. Tell me how that goes.” Probably not well. Superman’s got something going on with Batman- or well, had, seeing as Batman’s dead now.
“Flash. Why are you here?” Diana grits out, voice full of condemnation. “I doubt Superman would simply let you free.”
Barry flinches- they were never quite sure whether she liked them or hated them, but now they’re definitely sure she hates them.
“I’m here to prove my innocence.” Barry says, forcing their voice even. “Because Superman didn’t let me do anything to speak in my defense. At all.”
“Then speak.” Diana concedes. “Prove your innocence.”
“This is the knife you claimed I murdered him with, right?” Barry pulls a seven-inch clip point combat knife out of their glove, takes it out of its sheath, and shows off the pristine blade to Diana- carefully keeping the point aimed at their legs. “This one? Which was on me the entire time, and simply happens to be the same model as the murder weapon?”
“…How did you get a seven-inch knife up your sleeve?” Hal asks, audibly confused. “You’re wearing a skintight bodysuit.”
“I have my ways.” Barry says with a smile. “Anyway, back to the actual topic at hand.”
They fix a glare in Diana’s direction, and tap the blade just below the guard. “Superman claims that since the poor thing previously embedded in Batman’s throat is my knife, it had to have been me. As you can see here, that was not my knife."
“You could have bought two.” Diana suggests, tone still accusing.
“That model of knife costs 500 dollars- I own over a hundred other knives, including some rather cheap ones. A gas station pocket folder might not hold up to Batman’s armor, sure: but you can get a well-made 3-inch folder that can cut through wood for like 80 dollars. Which is far less than a week of groceries.” Barry levels a dry stare at Diana. “Are you seriously suggesting I’d buy a luxury knife that would require several weeks of saving, solely to kill one person with it- for a plan that requires immediately attracting suspicion by leaving a knife you know I own in the wound, when I already own several less expensive commercial knives, and it wouldn’t have been that hard to just take it out after?”
“Yeah, Diana- most of us aren’t billionaires or royalty. We can’t just drop 500 dollars on a non-essential purchase without any thought. Flash has a family, they need to eat three times as much as a human, and they’re living off overtime shifts, government aid, and family charity.” Hal pauses. “And seriously, do you believe they’d mistreat a knife like that? The same guy who lectured a street thug for fifteen minutes because he was horribly mistreating his gas station pocket knife and it snapped in half- with all of the righteous anger of a veterinarian who just watched someone throw a starved cat around by its tail, and slam it into a wall?”
Diana is silent for a long moment. “I suppose you make some very good points.”
“Can I have the murder knife now?” Barry asks. “I just want to clean it, and check it for damage- it still had blood on it when you gave it to me. Poor thing’s probably gonna get rust.”
“…Flash, do you seriously care more about the integrity of the murder weapon than the fact that your teammate is dead?!” Diana demands. “How selfish can you be?!”
“Fine, keep the knife.” Barry takes a deep breath, mentally apologizes to the poor knife, then turns to Hal. “What’s the time?”
“8:39 here.” Hal says. “Superman kept you for three and a half hours.”
Central City is an hour behind Washington DC, which means- oh shit, they were supposed to pick up Wally from daycare at five PM, which was two and a half hours ago.
“…You’re paying for the late pickup fees, Diana, and if someone called CPS on me… well, it’s not going to be pretty.” Barry hisses. “I hope you’re happy with yourself. Thanks to you and Superman, I’m two hours over the cutoff, Kid Flash is probably inconsolable, and the fees are going to be at least a hundred dollars.”
Barry doesn’t wait to hear Diana’s response before they’re running out of the Hall of Justice and onto the interstate.
Barry makes good time, arriving at 7:41 even with the time it took to get out of the alley they’d changed out of costume in, and sprint at a normal human speed to the daycare.
They yank the daycare door open, toss their shoes on the rack, and sprint up to the reception desk. To their relief, they recognize a familiar dark-skinned, purple-haired woman at the front desk- instead of the perpetually annoying, and casually ableist white man that sometimes fills in for her.
“I’m so sorry, Naomi.” they blurt out. “I would have come earlier, but I got held up by the police, and stuck in an interrogation room for three hours. Please, please don’t make me pay. I can’t afford that.”
They don’t have any food already in the house, they were planning to go grocery shopping tonight with tonight’s paycheck. The fee is $10 for every 10 minutes after the 5:30 cutoff for the grace period, and that means they’ll owe the daycare at least $120, maybe $130.
“Don’t worry about it, Barry. I was honestly considering calling some people, and sending out search parties.” Naomi assures. “Breathe. No one’s mad at you. Except Jeremy- but no one gives a fuck about Jeremy.”
Barry takes a few hysterical breaths. “But the fees-”
“I’m pretty sure “police interrogation” counts as “unavoidable and unforseen circumstances”. And if Jeremy tries to argue it isn’t, I’ll deal with him myself.” Naomi gets up from her desk, clicks on the audio recorder in her pocket, and holds out one hand to Barry. “Come with me. Grab my hand if you need it- I’ve been trying to get the lighting fixed for months. Just so you know, I’ll be recording our conversation, in case Jeremy says something stupid.”
“Fine with me.” Barry confirms, taking a few deep breaths- before taking Naomi’s hand.
Naomi carefully leads Barry down the darkened hallway, and into the near-abandoned common room of the daycare. Wally is sitting in the corner, while Jeremy stands next to him, arms crossed.
“Mrs N, Mr J’s being mean again.” Wally cries, as soon as he sees Naomi. He pauses, takes in the presence of a second set of footsteps- then a wide smile spreads across his face. “Mommy! You came!”
Barry rushes over, and bends down to Wally’s eye level. They wrap their arms around Wally, and scoop him up, a shaky smile forming on their face as they stroke Wally’s hair. “Oh, my little spark, I’m so sorry. Mommy didn’t mean to leave you alone.”
“Sure you did. What, did you take two hours to remember how to get here?” Jeremy says, like the asshole he is. “Well, you’re going to pay the price for being so stupid, so I don’t give a fuck. Take your demon spawn, and leave.”
Wally immediately starts crying again. “Mommy’s not stupid!”
“Jeremy.” Naomi says warningly. “You are on the clock, and you do not speak like that to clients.”
“Yeah, well, the kid bit me, and I’m not on the clock, I’m on overtime, cuz that bitch can’t keep track of time.” Jeremy gestures in Barry’s direction- Barry decides to pretend they didn’t see that. Jeremy would only use it as an excuse to insist Barry’s faking being blind.
“…Wally, why did you bite Mr J?” Barry asks. Personally, Jeremy deserves it. Wally’s getting a lollipop for standing up for himself.
“He called Daddy a deadbeat. An’ he also said a bunch of other things, but they not things I’m allow to say.” Wally crosses his arms. “He deserve it.”
“Jeremy, did you cuss out a four-year-old’s father in front of them?” Naomi says, tone dangerous.
“An’ he told me my drawing was stupid, an’ I should go show my mom cuz a blind woman’s the only one who will ever appreciate it.” Wally chimes in.
“…Excuse me, I’m not a woman.” Barry cuts in, and barely manages to keep themself from cursing Jeremy out. Who says that to a four-year-old?
“Kid calls you “mommy”, doesn’t he?” Jeremy says, sounding triumphant.
Barry takes a deep breath. They will not stab Jeremy. The knives do not deserve to be tainted with Jeremy fluids. And Naomi is recording, anyway.
“I’m nonbinary, Jeremy.” Barry reminds him. “That doesn’t change if I prefer certain gendered terms.”
They want to pull out a knife and whetstone, and start sharpening it to calm their nerves- but Jeremy(like most people unfamiliar with Barry) would probably interpret that as a threat, and Naomi needs her recording to favor Barry in the eyes of random strangers.
“Well, are you a woman or a man?” Jeremy continues. “I can’t tell.”
“I just said I’m not either.” Barry grits out. “Please stop.”
“What they said. Please stop harassing our clients.” Naomi informs him. “HR will hear about this.”
“Mommy, I wanna go home now…” Wally complains. “Mr J’s mean.”
“Are you up to signing yourself out?” Naomi asks, turning to Barry. Left unsaid is the fact that the computer sign-out automatically inserts the system date and time and charges auto-calculated late pickup fees, at least without a manual employee override that gets logged for performance evaluations, so it’s better for everyone if Barry hand-writes it on the self-sign clipboard.
Barry exhales slowly. Their hands are starting to shake a little from four hours with no food. “…I don’t think so.”
“Alright, I’ll sign you out.” Naomi turns to Jeremy. “I’ll close up, you can go home now.”
“Ugh, finally, that little brat was really grating on my nerves.” Jeremy shoves past Barry, and into the hallway.
“…He does know that was recorded, right?” Barry asks, as soon as Jeremy’s car backs out of the parking lot, and they’re sure Naomi’s audio recorder is off.
Naomi points to a grayish patch on her denim jacket. “I know you can’t see it, but there’s a “This unit is possibly recording audio at all times, watch what you say” patch on my jacket, and I’ve got him on record saying “Yeah, sure you’re recording me”, and “Record whatever you want, bitch”. Missouri’s a one-party consent state anyway as long as you yourself participate in the conversation, so that’s just extra insurance for anything he says to you.”
“Is Mr J going to get awested?” Wally asks, cheerfully. “He should go to jail.”
Silence. “…Why does he think the cops are a good thing?” Naomi says eventually.
“I think he’s been watching too many of my brother’s copaganda true crime shows.” Barry sighs. Eobard has a lot of explaining to do anyway, given everything that happened today, so it can wait.
“He lets your four-year-old watch true crime?” Barry can practically hear Naomi’s raised eyebrow.
“He watches absolutely nothing else except for the news unless forced, and Wally wants to watch whatever he’s watching, not Peppa Pig. Honestly, I have bigger problems.” Barry sighs. “Wally’s going to have so much trouble fitting in when the time comes to enroll him in school, even if he turns out to not have autism. Which is unlikely, given his parentage.”
“…Is Wally’s dad also autistic? Or is it just you?”
“He’s not diagnosed: but given that our living room is half full of his collection of model planes and half full of my collection of knives, his encyclopedic knowledge of aircraft and airport codes, and that one time he got mad enough that a GBS article about a Boeing 737 Max crashing had a picture of a Boeing 747 at the top that he called their TV station to complain, I’d say it’s pretty likely.”
“…Hold up, Wally’s dad is 747 Guy?” Naomi asks.
Barry pinches the bridge of his nose. Of course Hal went viral. “Yes. How viral is it?”
“Not very, outside of sometimes being included in general “Godfrey Fails” compilations, but Tumblr has a 10k notes post about “hats off to that one guy who called GBS during Ask G. Gordon Godfrey just to complain about someone using a stock photo of a different type of plane for a news article about a plane crash”. Don’t worry, everyone’s cheering him on.” Naomi pauses. “Do you have Tumblr? I’ve never asked.”
“Yes, even if I usually barely interact with anything except to post photos and reviews of my knives combined with some political hot takes, except somehow I accidentally ended up as a popular gimmick blog. I’m the-tumblr-knife-guy."
“If you get a DM from sticks-and-stones-and-flowers-oh-my when you get home, that’s me.” Naomi waves in the direction of the door. “We should probably stop chatting now- I need to get Wally signed out.”
“See you tomorrow then?” Barry asks, stepping towards the door.
“Yeah, see you tomorrow. Bye Barry.” Naomi pauses and waves to Wally. “Bye Wally, see you tomorrow too.”
“Bye Ms N!” Wally calls, waving. “You the best!”
Naomi laughs. “Aw, thanks, kiddo.”
Barry walks at a normal human speed back towards the hidden alley, then hefts Wally more firmly onto their shoulders and hands him a set of goggles.
“Masks up?” Wally asks, pulling the goggles over his head. “We run?”
“Yep.” Barry says, slipping back into their costume and shoving their civilian clothes into their ring. Pocket dimensions sure are handy. “Ready, KF?”
“Weady.” Wally confirms.
Barry wraps one arm around Wally, waits for Wally to get a secure grip on their shoulder, then starts to run.
Wally laughs as the wind tousles his hair, then turns to look at something passing by that Barry can’t see. “Birdie!”
(Barry was worried about running with Wally after he was first born- but thankfully Wally has inherited at least their protective aura, if not Barry’s other powers, so even once he was large and mobile enough that Barry’s aura didn’t always completely cover him, there are absolutely no problems carrying him at high speeds mostly unprotected.)
Ten seconds later, Barry skids to a stop in the alley behind their apartment building, and changes back into civilian clothes.
Wally squirms in their arms as Barry slows to a normal human walking speed, pulls off Wally’s goggles and makes their way around to the front of their apartment.
The first thing Barry does when they get home(well, after Wally’s safely in his bedroom) is pull their favorite whetstone out of its soaking tub, slap it on the counter and pull out one of their more well-used paring knives.
Align the knife and whetstone, 15 degree angle, even pressure, smooth strokes.
With every stroke of metal against ceramic, the ball of anxiety they’ve been trying to shove down chips away and melts, bit by bit, washed away with the water dripping from the stone.
This day seemed so nice when they woke up. It should have been an ordinary day- aside from the need to deal with a few gunmen holding a mall in Spain hostage, it seemed like it was going perfectly well.
And then, they walked into the Hall of Justice, and half of the Justice League- Martian Manhunter, Hal and Cyborg conspicuously absent- cuffed their wrists and frog-marched them into an interrogation room without a single word to answer their frantic demands to know why.
Even if they could escape at any moment, even if they were itching the entire time to slip their bonds and run back to Wally, it still hurt. It was more than just unexpected captivity, it was a betrayal from people who were at least trusted coworkers, if not friends.
Their phone rings from its spot on the kitchen counter.
Barry takes a deep breath, sets down the half-sharpened knife, and picks up their phone.
“Barry. Check the news. GBS. Now.” Eobard says, as soon as Barry picks up. His voice is firm and slightly terrified. “You need to see this.”
Barry blinks. “What?”
“Superman’s making a live press statement in front of the Hall.” Eobard says. Each word hits like a stab to the heart. “He’s accusing Flash of murdering Batman.”
Barry’s hands clench, in and out. A ragged breath escapes their throat.
Superman won’t just let it lie. He just had to ruin Barry’s reputation, while Barry is still too tired, hungry and overwhelmed to fight back.
Well, two can play that game, and Barry knows exactly what will get the public on their side.
“Wally? We’re going on a little field trip.” they manage. “Masks up the whole time.”
Wally blinks. “Why?”
“…Superman has some explaining to do.” Barry says, holding out Wally’s goggles. “We’re gonna be on TV, so make sure you don’t say any names or talk about Uncle Eo or Daddy, okay?”
“Can I bring Chimkin?” Wally asks, pulling his goggles onto his face. “She’s gonna get lonely.”
Barry smiles weakly. “Yes, yes you can bring Chimkin. Just don’t drop her, okay?”
Wally runs off to fetch his stuffed chicken, then toddles back towards Barry. “Weady!”
Barry changes into costume, then scoops Wally up, and starts to run.
Every head and camera turns in Barry’s direction as they skid to a stop on the edge of the Hall of Justice’s front steps, accompanied by a number of frantic exclamations.
“Superman.” Barry greets, Wally still perched in their arms as they stride towards Superman. “Please explain to my four-year-old why we’re not eating tonight because Mommy owes 130 dollars to a daycare after spending three hours in an interrogation room.”
Superman pauses. “…You have a kid?”
“Yes, I do.” Barry snarls. “I’ve gone four hours without eating, with the expectation that my next paycheck was supposed to go towards groceries, not late pickup fees. I repeat: please explain to my four-year-old why we’re not eating tonight, because you decided to throw me in an interrogation room and wait three hours to tell me why.”
Superman bends down to look at Wally. His tactic is clearly ignoring Barry and looking child-friendly. “Hello, little one.”
“I thought we gonna eat today. Mommy pwomised.” Wally says, clutching Chimkin tighter, voice choking up. “Mommy pwomised. Why you such a meanie?”
“Well, you see, your mommy did a very bad thing…” Superman starts awkwardly.
“Mommy’s the best mommy! Mommy never does anything bad!” Wally insists. “Mommy’s a supahewo! Supahewos save people!”
“Er… well…” Superman stutters. “Even superheroes can do bad things…”
“Of couwse I no’ that.” Wally looks up at Superman. “You made mommy sad. An’ now we not gonna eat. Cuz you a liar.”
“I don’t lie. I’m Superman.” Superman tries. “We have very good evidence.”
Wally huffs. “Course you lie, you say Mommy did a bad thing, and Mommy would tell me if they did a bad thing, and Mommy didn’t. So you wrong.”
“Superman, may I remind you that you don’t actually have any good evidence?” Barry cuts in. “The murder weapon is a commercial model that could belong to anyone, and quite far out of my usual budget range. The fingerprints could belong to almost anyone. I wear the same gloves everywhere, and I haven’t heard a word about fibre evidence. I was in Spain at the time, and the news can back me up on that.”
“You are still our best suspect.” Superman insists.
“And you've already satisfactorily ruled out Deathstroke, Black Spider, Ra’s Al Ghul, Talia Al Ghul, Cheshire, Victor Zsasz, Black Manta, Lady Shiva, David Cain, Catwoman, Scarecrow and the Joker? And confirmed that it isn’t an unknown first-time villain?” Barry asks, raising an eyebrow. “While you’re at it, why is Wonder Woman not on the suspect list? She has several knives and knows how to use them.”
“I think you just don’t wike Mommy cuz they don’t wike your boyfwend.” Wally declares.
Superman splutters. “He’s not- Batman wasn’t-”
“While we’re at it, can I borrow some food from the Hall’s on-site storage?” Barry smiles sweetly. “I know it’s technically against policy, but all we have in the house is three grape tomatoes, ketchup and a mostly-empty carton of milk.”
“I don’t have the authority-”
“Oh? I was under the impression that you had the authority to unilaterally call a press conference to unfoundedly accuse your teammate of murder on thirty minutes’ notice, in the middle of the night. How come you don’t also have the authority to sign out some supplies that have been already purchased? That seems like something much more minor.”
“I’m humgy.” Wally announces. “Mommy’s humgy too.”
“Er, well-” Superman tries. He’s interrupted by a loud smashing sound as a streak of green shoots out of the side of the Hall of Justice, followed by a streak of red and gold.
“What am I not supposed to see? Seriously, what am I not supposed to see bad enough that you’d try and drug me and shove me in a storage closet?!” Hal demands. “Wonder Woman, what the fuck?!”
Hal pauses and looks over at the crowd of reporters, who are all now practically frothing at the mouth with anticipation. “Oh, that explains every-”
He doesn’t have time to get a shield up before Diana slams into him, knocking him out of the air. He manages to catch himself, though there’s an audible crack as his wrist breaks.
Barry’s heart is in their throat now. Diana wouldn’t, would she?
“Ow! What the fuck?! I’m not a fucking demigoddess, you’re lucky that fall didn’t kill me!” Hal shouts. “You better hope my wrist’s just bruised.”
Diana’s only coherent response is sunlight gleaming off a blur of flashing steel. “You- imbecile- ruin - everything-” Barry manages to catch.
Yes, yes she would.
Barry races forward, hastily setting down Wally as best as they can. Their fingers skid off empty air, and a sudden shooting pain burns in their equally suddenly congested chest.
“Flash?!” Hal shouts, sounding terrified and despairing at the same time. “You… you’d…”
Barry tries to reassure him that everything’s fine if he’s talking. Only a ragged gasp comes out, accompanied by the taste of blood.
They look down. There is a sword in their chest. Diana’s sword, if they had to guess from what little their more-blurred-than-usual vision can make out.
“Oh.” they manage. Their eyes widen, and then everything goes black.
[Footage from GBS’s Historic Moments with GBS archive. The footage shows a broadcast from the foot of the Hall of Justice’s steps, Cat Grant sitting at a news desk and edited into the lower left corner. Superman stands awkwardly to the right of the foreground. Next to him, in the background, Green Lantern can be seen cradling Flash’s half-upright body, still impaled through on the point of Wonder Woman’s sword, while Kid Flash, Flash’s previously unseen four-year-old son, cries from where they’ve fallen awkwardly to the side.]
Cat Grant: This is Cat Grant from GBS, coming live to you from the Hall of Justice, where a shocking development that absolutely no one expected has occured- Wonder Woman has attacked her own teammates, seriously injuring Green Lantern and Flash! This comes straight on the heels of Superman’s announcement that Flash is the primary suspect in the recent murder of Batman, which makes one wonder what the motive for this assault could be…
Cat Grant: I think we can all agree that one thought on everyone’s mind right now is “well, that escalated quickly”.
Kid Flash(in tears): Chimkin! Chimkin, where’d you go?
Green Lantern(near- simultaneously, hyperventilating): Oh my god. Oh my god, that was meant for me, wasn’t it? Ring? Ring, tell me if they’re okay.
Cat Grant: Unfortunately for the young Kid Flash, he does not seem to realize that he has much bigger problems than the loss of his stuffed toy, no matter how frankly adorable it is. Let’s hope one of the Justice League is up to breaking it to him, because I really don’t think I’m qualified.
Green Lantern(half-hysterical): Oh god, what do you mean respiratory arrest and cardiac injury. Oh god.
Cat Grant(clapping her hands over her mouth): Oh my. Bump Flash up to “confirmed fatality”. At least it was quick?
[Wonder Woman draws back and lets go of the sword.]
Wonder Woman(stuttering): I- I didn’t mean-
Green Lantern(angrily shouting): Yes, yes you did mean. You swung that thing with the full intent to take my head off with it. It doesn’t matter that you missed and hit Flash instead, the intent was there!
Cat Grant: It seems that Green Lantern is invoking the rule of transferred intent, usually applied to murder cases! I’m not quite sure if it applies in Washington, but likewise, Green Lantern’s intent is clearly there. This was a murder, plain and simple!
[Meanwhile, off to the side, Kid Flash finally locates his stuffed chicken.]
Kid Flash(cheerful): Chimkin! Yay! I found you!
Kid Flash(lecturing): Don’t leave me again, please? You stay with me forever. Best buddies. Like you promised.
Cat Grant: Aww…
[Kid Flash finally notices the commotion over in the corner, and wanders over. He pokes Flash’s arm.]
Kid Flash: Mommy, wake up. Now’s not the time for sleeping.
[Kid Flash takes Flash’s hand in both of his own tiny hands, and shakes it up and down.]
Kid Flash: Mommy, wake up.
[Kid Flash lets go of Flash’s hand and turns to Green Lantern.]
Kid Flash(innocently confused): Daddy, how come Mommy won’t wake up?
Green Lantern(stricken): Kid Flash, Mommy’s just sleeping really deeply, okay? They’re probably not going to wake up for a while.
Cat Grant: Well, that was a tragic development. The shippers among you probably wish that Green Lantern’s relationship with Flash wasn’t confirmed in such a tragic manner, even if we now have confirmation that they are married and do have a child.
Cat Grant: Poor Kid Flash is still in the dark, though I suppose it’s for the best.
Cat Grant: It’s a bit weird how Superman’s just been standing here faintly twitching this whole time without saying anything, though. Is he having a seizure? Do we need to send medical help?
Green Lantern(turning towards Superman): Oh, and Supes? I saw you standing there, doing nothing. And yes, you could have done something. You have super speed, and unlike Flash, you’re [bleep]ing invincible. You are an accomplice, as far as I’m concerned.
[Superman turns towards Green Lantern.]
Superman(awkwardly): Er… um… yes, I suppose… that is to say… er… I did not anticipate this development.
[Green Lantern sighs and shakes his head, and turns away from Superman. He carefully extracts the sword from Flash’s body and sets it to the side, before scooping them up in his arms and gently depositing their body in a construct of a hammock.]
Green Lantern(voice shaky): I’m sorry, Flash. You deserved better than this [bleep]. Say hi to your mom for me once you get to the Speed Force, kay?
[Green Lantern turns to Kid Flash and bends down, arms held out, a clearly false smile on his face.]
Green Lantern(with false cheer): Alright kiddo, we’re going for a little ride, okay? Be careful, Daddy’s wrist has an ouchie.
Kid Flash: Up! Yay!
[Green Lantern scoops up Kid Flash with his uninjured arm, and dangles his injured arm over Flash’s hammock. In a flash of green, all three of them are gone, nothing more than a streak of green visible momentarily on the horizon.]
Cat Grant: Well. I guess that’s goodbye to the Flash, at least for now.
[Martian Manhunter chooses that time to fly in and land next to Superman.]
Martian Manhunter: Superman, I have been looking for you all over this planet. What a surprise it was to find you here, in the last place I thought to look!
Martian Manhunter: I do have good news, however. I have been meaning to inform you for a while that I have clear evidence of Flash’s innocence, but I could not find you for some odd reason.
[Superman looks utterly stricken.]
Superman: …Oh.
Cat Grant: …Hold up, did we all just hear that correctly?
Cat Grant: Did Martian Manhunter really just confirm he knew Flash was innocent the entire time, and Superman just went behind his back to accuse them first?
Cat Grant: I’m pretty sure he just did, and with the other shocking developments of today… I think it’s safe to say that the Justice League is definitely headed for some severely rocky times.
Cat Grant: This was Cat Grant, with GBS News, bringing you live footage from the Hall of Justice. We will now replay the previous footage in its entirety, accompanied by commentary from everyone’s favorite anchor, G. Gordon Godfrey.
[The GBS logo flashes on the screen, and the video ends.]