My weak attempt at John/Flash... I'm sorry you found this. It's pretty boring, but...well...after this is up, I've done the Flash with everyone on the founders team. How superb!
I'll try a better Flash/GL soon.
I don't own JL. Set during...um...that episode with Injustice? Where John is put on trial. In Blackest Night? Oh, well. You know the one.
The gas didn't care what it was doing. This was just another day. And he was just another face, coughing, and gagging. Just another person clutching at his throat, keeled over, hacking. It didn't care that other man that was on his knees coughing, paling, looking as though he was about to fall over- it didn't care that he hadn't done anything wrong. That he was just someone who had risked his neck for a criminal. That he had put his trust into the wrong person. The gas didn't care because they were just two more people, and who, in the grand scheme, cares about two people?
John didn't really care that he could feel his strength dwindling- that he could actually feel the life draining out of his body like electricity from the wall. What bothered him was the young man before him, on his knees, coughing, and grabbing his throat, trying to stop himself from breathing in the noxious fumes. Because Flash was innocent. He had just been stalling for the others. But it was a waste. John understood that he was guilty, and that he had to face the consequence. But, as Flash finally collapsed, cold, clammy sweat clinging to his face, he understood that this consequence was unfair for Flash- maybe not him, but surely for Flash. What had he done that was so horrible that he deserved this death?
His mouth cracked open, one last attempt to say he was sorry, although apologizing wouldn't be enough. Nothing would ever be enough, because he had killed the Flash. The Flash- a young, handsome hero with ideals, and morals, and, sure, he was rash and he had an ego the size of Pluto, but who the hell cared, in the grand scheme of things? He was a good guy, a nice guy, but apparently, even a lifetime of good deeds could not save a person from death. Flash managed a slight grin- a strained, forced grin- but it still lit a little light in John's chest, as it always did. It gave him a little hope, even now, when time was so bleak, when everything was so dark.
And then Superman ripped the metal open, and the gas, who had just been doing it's menial job for society, wasn't a problem anymore, because they could get away from it now. And John got out, the Flash with him. Then, Superman revealed that John was innocent, and Flash was looking so pleased and smug, as though he had planned it to go like this all along. But he hadn't. John had seen his face, and it had looked resigned, and assured. Flash had been positive that he was going to die. And he had smiled.
He had smiled because he knew that John needed a smile.
And then John felt that little warmth in his stomach again. But, seconds later, he found out there was a danger to Oa, so he went to grab his ring. He felt Flash's eyes on him, and, as he pushed the ring onto his finger, he felt determination poison his thoughts. Whoever had framed him, they had put Flash in danger. They had made him fall to his knees and cough, and 'know' that he was going to die. John looked at Flash grimly, feeling something inside of him flicker. There would be no survivors of these manhunters, if he had anything to say about it.
The gas didn't know what it was doing, but they had. They had tried to kill him, and Flash had nearly died in the process. He chanced a glance at the fleet-footed hero, feeling that familiar feeling of warmth when he looked at him. Flash turned, and he did what he always did around John, no matter what:
THE END What a touching, brilliant story. You just skimmed through the whole thing, didn't you? I bet you didn't even read one paragraph completely. Oh, well. As long as you review...