Tearing at the Seams (Bart fic)
Title: Tearing at the Seams
Author: thebetch
Characters/Pairing: Bart Allen, Barry Allen, Wally West, Cassie Sandsmark, Clark Kent (brief mentionings of the last four)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,162
Summary: After reappearing in Tokyo, and beating up Superboy Prime, Bart slowly starts to fall to pieces.
Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own Bart Allen. He belongs to DC comics.
Author's Notes/Warnings: The continuity here... isn't really anything. It's during IC, but I may have changed a few details here or there for the sake of my sanity. Mild to moderate angst ensues. Written for the DC Free for-all prompt: Falling Apart
Barry’s suit had withstood Bart’s accelerated speeds when he came out of the Speed Force, contained all of that raw power and still looked impeccable when he emerged in the heart of Downtown Tokyo. Still gleaming red, no not even just plain as red, it shimmered as if it’s material was an iridescent red pearl with golden accents. It moved with him, almost as if it was a sentient being capable of thought, or maybe he was just thinking too far into this because it was his Grandfather’s suit and it was the greatest honor to be wearing something so special and he felt worthy of it, finally.
Though it withstood the pressure and the gripping, tearing hands of the Speed Force (which didn’t seem to want him to leave and that was freaky in and of itself), it couldn’t handle his anger.
When he had first learned of Superboy Prime’s escape, he panicked, knowing the bastard was going to go straight for Kon. It wasn’t a hard decision, for him to go back to try and stop the alternate reality version of one of his best friends from actually killing his best friend. Though it was a bit of a hefty decision to take Wally’s ring and Barry’s suit, but the look on his Grandfather’s face when he put on the full cowl made all of his worries dissipate, if even for a second and that was long enough.
Now Barry’s suit was torn at the knuckles, the holes reaching all the way up his wrists and exposing his bleeding and busted joints that throbbed with every beat of his heart. There were tears in the suit across his biceps, a long rip angling down from his left hip to mid thigh and he was practically falling out of the suit as he tried to catch his breath. He swore there were actually holes in the soles of the boots, but he wasn’t wont to check that quite yet.
Bart didn’t really remember what happened, exactly, being fueled by the extra speed and anger. Yes, he remembers being so angry at Superboy-Prime because he… had killed Kon. He had been too late to warn anybody and too late to help his friend. There never was a point in time where he thought that he’d be too slow, but he had been. Too slow, and as a result Kon had given up his life to protect so many others and Prime was still loose.
That was the source of his anger; he recalls as he stumble-walks himself to a non-destroyed part of sidewalk and sits down. Though that anger was quickly subsiding to a heavy feeling of guilt as he stared at his bloody knuckles, which were not healing themselves, realizing that only some of the blood was his own. Drawing his aching knees up to his chest, Bart tried to just catch his breath because it was getting harder just to take in air. His chest was tightening and making it hard to breathe and his mind was racing just as fast as he had just minutes ago despite the lower levels of oxygen.
He ruined Barry’s suit in his haste to make Prime feel half as much pain as Kon might have felt. Using his newly acquired speed to send repeated punches to the other meta’s face, gut, and neck (he even threw a couple punches below the belt) but mostly he aimed for the fragging jerk's nose and mouth. Bart didn’t remember ever feeling such strong negative emotions before, and if he had ever felt that way about somebody previously, he surely never took it out on them. The speedster had to convince himself that he was in the right for just jumping right into the battle (pushing Superman out of the way to get his many punches in) under such duress, but it wasn’t working at all.
Kon was dead because of Prime. And while he was idly sitting about in an alternate reality where only those fast enough actually existed, Kon was trying to save the world. Bart realized belatedly that… well, he hadn’t been angry at Prime for what he had done, he hated him for what he had done, but was angry at himself. Angry for not being there to help, to do something, to say goodbye. Or to tell Kon how fucking glad he was that they were friends, and that he was proud of his ‘Superbuddy’ (something he knew Kon hated Bart calling him but the speedster did anyway in all good humor). Or even just how happy he was to be in Kon’s presence sometimes. He never got a chance to say anything to Kon (or anyone else for that matter) before he got sucked into the Speed Force, and who knew who else was gone.
Golden eyes stared down at bloodied knuckles, his hand painted red with not only his blood, but Prime’s as well. Clenching his fingers into a fist, he let the sharp pangs of pain travel up his arm and just sat there wallowing in it. The battle was over at this point, but not for Bart, not for a long shot. His hands weren’t healing and his legs felt weak, and he felt like he was going to vomit at any moment because he still couldn’t breathe right. After he’d tapped into the Speed Force that last time to aim one last punch to Prime’s smug mouth, he felt his connection to the Force tear. Almost like a corporeal string, like tearing his ACL except it wasn’t painful. It left a lot of pain, sure, but it just felt like he was broken in some weird way. He was slow now, normal.
He didn’t care that he was sitting in the middle of a lot of wreckage, or that whatever heroes that lingered were staring at him, trying to decide who he was. Cassie knew it was him, but he didn’t know where she had gone. Didn’t really care at this point because at least he knew that she was alive. All that he really knew was that he was sitting here, right in the middle of the sidewalk until he could breathe and function again. One of the two, at least, because he was sure he wouldn’t be functioning properly for a while, if even that. Bart’s back trembled first with effort to suppress the tears that were welling up in his eyes, but that gave way because he was too tired to hide how horrible he felt.
Barry’s suit was in better shape than he was, even as it was torn in too many places to be salvageable. It felt like he was coming apart at the seams, unraveling into this pile of useless fabric and string. Maybe he was just having a panic attack, and all of these feelings and overwhelming thoughts would dissipate sooner rather than later. Hopefully before he fell apart completely right on the sidewalk.
Author: thebetch
Characters/Pairing: Bart Allen, Barry Allen, Wally West, Cassie Sandsmark, Clark Kent (brief mentionings of the last four)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,162
Summary: After reappearing in Tokyo, and beating up Superboy Prime, Bart slowly starts to fall to pieces.
Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own Bart Allen. He belongs to DC comics.
Author's Notes/Warnings: The continuity here... isn't really anything. It's during IC, but I may have changed a few details here or there for the sake of my sanity. Mild to moderate angst ensues. Written for the DC Free for-all prompt: Falling Apart
Barry’s suit had withstood Bart’s accelerated speeds when he came out of the Speed Force, contained all of that raw power and still looked impeccable when he emerged in the heart of Downtown Tokyo. Still gleaming red, no not even just plain as red, it shimmered as if it’s material was an iridescent red pearl with golden accents. It moved with him, almost as if it was a sentient being capable of thought, or maybe he was just thinking too far into this because it was his Grandfather’s suit and it was the greatest honor to be wearing something so special and he felt worthy of it, finally.
Though it withstood the pressure and the gripping, tearing hands of the Speed Force (which didn’t seem to want him to leave and that was freaky in and of itself), it couldn’t handle his anger.
When he had first learned of Superboy Prime’s escape, he panicked, knowing the bastard was going to go straight for Kon. It wasn’t a hard decision, for him to go back to try and stop the alternate reality version of one of his best friends from actually killing his best friend. Though it was a bit of a hefty decision to take Wally’s ring and Barry’s suit, but the look on his Grandfather’s face when he put on the full cowl made all of his worries dissipate, if even for a second and that was long enough.
Now Barry’s suit was torn at the knuckles, the holes reaching all the way up his wrists and exposing his bleeding and busted joints that throbbed with every beat of his heart. There were tears in the suit across his biceps, a long rip angling down from his left hip to mid thigh and he was practically falling out of the suit as he tried to catch his breath. He swore there were actually holes in the soles of the boots, but he wasn’t wont to check that quite yet.
Bart didn’t really remember what happened, exactly, being fueled by the extra speed and anger. Yes, he remembers being so angry at Superboy-Prime because he… had killed Kon. He had been too late to warn anybody and too late to help his friend. There never was a point in time where he thought that he’d be too slow, but he had been. Too slow, and as a result Kon had given up his life to protect so many others and Prime was still loose.
That was the source of his anger; he recalls as he stumble-walks himself to a non-destroyed part of sidewalk and sits down. Though that anger was quickly subsiding to a heavy feeling of guilt as he stared at his bloody knuckles, which were not healing themselves, realizing that only some of the blood was his own. Drawing his aching knees up to his chest, Bart tried to just catch his breath because it was getting harder just to take in air. His chest was tightening and making it hard to breathe and his mind was racing just as fast as he had just minutes ago despite the lower levels of oxygen.
He ruined Barry’s suit in his haste to make Prime feel half as much pain as Kon might have felt. Using his newly acquired speed to send repeated punches to the other meta’s face, gut, and neck (he even threw a couple punches below the belt) but mostly he aimed for the fragging jerk's nose and mouth. Bart didn’t remember ever feeling such strong negative emotions before, and if he had ever felt that way about somebody previously, he surely never took it out on them. The speedster had to convince himself that he was in the right for just jumping right into the battle (pushing Superman out of the way to get his many punches in) under such duress, but it wasn’t working at all.
Kon was dead because of Prime. And while he was idly sitting about in an alternate reality where only those fast enough actually existed, Kon was trying to save the world. Bart realized belatedly that… well, he hadn’t been angry at Prime for what he had done, he hated him for what he had done, but was angry at himself. Angry for not being there to help, to do something, to say goodbye. Or to tell Kon how fucking glad he was that they were friends, and that he was proud of his ‘Superbuddy’ (something he knew Kon hated Bart calling him but the speedster did anyway in all good humor). Or even just how happy he was to be in Kon’s presence sometimes. He never got a chance to say anything to Kon (or anyone else for that matter) before he got sucked into the Speed Force, and who knew who else was gone.
Golden eyes stared down at bloodied knuckles, his hand painted red with not only his blood, but Prime’s as well. Clenching his fingers into a fist, he let the sharp pangs of pain travel up his arm and just sat there wallowing in it. The battle was over at this point, but not for Bart, not for a long shot. His hands weren’t healing and his legs felt weak, and he felt like he was going to vomit at any moment because he still couldn’t breathe right. After he’d tapped into the Speed Force that last time to aim one last punch to Prime’s smug mouth, he felt his connection to the Force tear. Almost like a corporeal string, like tearing his ACL except it wasn’t painful. It left a lot of pain, sure, but it just felt like he was broken in some weird way. He was slow now, normal.
He didn’t care that he was sitting in the middle of a lot of wreckage, or that whatever heroes that lingered were staring at him, trying to decide who he was. Cassie knew it was him, but he didn’t know where she had gone. Didn’t really care at this point because at least he knew that she was alive. All that he really knew was that he was sitting here, right in the middle of the sidewalk until he could breathe and function again. One of the two, at least, because he was sure he wouldn’t be functioning properly for a while, if even that. Bart’s back trembled first with effort to suppress the tears that were welling up in his eyes, but that gave way because he was too tired to hide how horrible he felt.
Barry’s suit was in better shape than he was, even as it was torn in too many places to be salvageable. It felt like he was coming apart at the seams, unraveling into this pile of useless fabric and string. Maybe he was just having a panic attack, and all of these feelings and overwhelming thoughts would dissipate sooner rather than later. Hopefully before he fell apart completely right on the sidewalk.