Author's Note: After 'Downtime' I feel like I'm bashing the canon in the face with a shovel.
Anyways, first Young Justice fic, go me. Essentially I began having YJ based dreams after talking to someone who had a dream about Kid Flash hanging upside down in the batcave (long story). That's right my obsession with Young Justice is extending towards my dreams beware! Back to the point, this was supposed to be a one-shot, but knowing me, it didn't turn out that way. It's rated T cause I'm paranoid.
Summary: His father was always yelling at him, his mother pretended nothing happened, and then they sent him away to live with his Aunt and Uncle. Why didn't they want him anymore? Why didn't they love him anymore?
Disclaimer: I wish I owned it, I'd work my staff relentlessly so that they were pushing out new episodes every week.
Things Fall Apart
Home was supposed to be the one place where you felt the safest in the entire world. If you didn't feel secure there then what other places were left? Parents were supposed to love and accept their children for who they were and not ask for anything more. If his own parents didn't love him then what hope did he have for finding someone else that did? It left him wanting. He wanted to go home and not be afraid that he would have to lie to his teacher about a bruise. He wanted his father to love him for who he was instead of finding everything he ever did wrong. He just wanted his father to love him and for his mother to be happy. He wanted so much, but he knew it was never to be.
"His teacher sent home another note today," his mother said meekly followed by the faint noise of paper exchanging hands. Wallace swore that if he listened hard enough he could hear the steam coming out of his father's ear. He expected his father to be angry; he was always angry, angry at him. Wallace wrapped his arms around his knees listening carefully for his father's reply from where he sat at the top of the stairs, back pressed against the wall.
"Another one?" his father demanded, a brief pause "What did he do this time?'
"He, he wasn't paying attention in class again," her voice wavered.
"Again? When is he going to stop living in his own little world!" Definitely not a question.
"Maybe we should take him to the doctors; maybe he has Attention Def-"
"No, there's nothing wrong with him! He needs to learn to get his head out of the clouds! Wallace!"
Wallace pressed himself against the wall even more willing it to open up and swallow him.
"I just put him down for bed before you came in," his mother attempted.
"Wallace! Get down here!"
Squeezing his eyes shut Wallace took a shuddering breath before making his way down the stairs to the front entrance where his parents were waiting. Once he cleared the final step his dad grabbed Wallace's upper arm in an iron grip.
"What's this?" he hissed showing his son the not, "Not paying attention is class?"
Wallace's eyes darted from the paper, the hand grabbing his arm, to his mother, then finally to his father. Not liking the silent response his father shook him.
"I'm sorry!" Wally blurted out of the first thing that came to mind. The apology didn't satisfy his dad, sighing through his nose. He released his son's arm and quickly brought the hand up and smacked the back of Wallace's head. Wallace whimpered touching the back of his head while looking at his mother. She merely stared at her feet as if nothing had happened. His eyes pricked with tears as he looked back at his father.
"I don't want you to come home with another one of these do you understand?'
Wallace quickly nodded his head afraid if he started talking he wouldn't be able to stop himself from crying.
"Good now go to bed."
He didn't spare a second before running up the stairs closing his bedroom door behind him. Crawling into bed Wallace buried his head into his pillow hoping it would muffle his cries. Because he knew, that wasn't going to be the last note.
"Wally, I need to talk to you," his teacher, Mrs. Karen Lantrip stated as the other kids filled out on their way to recess.
Wallace nodded not lifting his eyes to look at his teacher. She was going to yell at him, he just knew it. As Karen neared his desk he set his pencil down careful to keep his head low, out of the corner of his eye he could see his teacher crouch down to his eye level.
"Is there something wrong Wally?" she asked softly. In surprise Wallace lifted his head to look at her, he wasn't expecting her to ask that.
"N-no" he managed to say. Gently she laid an arm; her concern only grew as she watched the young boy flinch at her touch.
"You can tell me anything Wally," Karen reassured, Wallace only shook his head moving his arm away from his teacher and though she couldn't be sure, when the fiery haired boy moved his arm, Karen swore that she saw a bruise covered by his shirt sleeve. Sighing she stood back up, "If you need me for anything Wally, I'm right here,"
The young boy nodded his head then picked his pencil back up and continued his class work.
Later in the day, when all the students had gone home and the teachers were packing up before they too went home, Karen Lantrip glanced at Wallace West's desk. She recalled when he first arrived in her classroom he was so full of energy and always smiling, it was actually quite infectious. She remembered laughing saying that 'Wallace' was a much too serious name for a hyperactive boy, so she began to call him Wally. When she called him that for the first time his face brightened even more, if that was even possible. Then that bright face just disappeared and was replaced with a solemn and basically unhappy boy. After several incidents of catching Wallace not paying attention in class, Karen called his parents.
His mother answered. She explained that there was a lot going on at home and that her son was having a hard time dealing with it all. Karen didn't believe her, but she didn't have any proof to prove otherwise, so all she could do is sit back and watch. Karen wanted to help, she was going to talk to Wallace again tomorrow and finally get to the bottom of what was happening in the West household.
She didn't see Wally the next day, or the day after that. Karen Lantrip never saw Wally again.
Mary West knew to keep her family safe; she had to keep her son home. Two nights previous Rudolf sprained Wallace's wrist but he could have so easily broken it. Nine years ago when Mary had her son, she didn't see this happening, what mother did? Mary wanted her son to live like all the other boys his age, happy and unafraid to come home at the end of the day. She did not want this; she wanted her son to be safe.
Mary had to make the hardest decision; she had to let her son go.
"Ruddy?" she called meekly from the doorway of their bedroom. Her husband was sitting on the edge of the bed grumbling under his breath as he undid his tie.
"Don't understand it Mary, what's wrong with that boy." It wasn't a question, it never was a question. He would always find fault with their son.
"I was thinking that maybe your sister-"
"What about Iris?" he cut in before Mary could finish. Swallowing Mary took a few steps into the bedroom her hands wringing nervously.
"Maybe a change would be good for Wallace, maybe Iris would be willing to take him in for a little while."
One of Rudolf's dark brows rose suspiciously, "What's wrong about him staying here?"
"Nothing at all, I've just heard that the schools in Central are much better than the ones here. They could probably help Wallace." She lied.
Rudolf sighed deeply, "Perhaps sending him away would be for the best,"
Mary winced at how void of emotion her husband was. He was talking about his son but there was no love in his voice no compassion.
"Call Iris and," he paused, "Barry tomorrow, tell me what they say."
They were sending him away. His mother told him that he was going to live with his Aunt for a while and then he could come back home and that his father was going to miss him, but it was for the best. But Wallace knew, he wasn't the idiot his father thought he was. His parents didn't want him anymore, they were sending him away.
To be Continued
Final Thought: I thought I was pretty original..until I saw all the prompts on live journal that had this same basic idea, but I digress. So, I know there's probably spelling errors and I know I this is definitely not the best chapter and I'm sorry about that. I only have one request, please no flames, honestly, I haven't been very happy lately and I don't need some someone dissing my writing. Until the next part which may or may not take awhile (but this is me, so yeah, it's going to be a while), this is Prodigious Discourse signing out.