Author's Note: First off I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed.
Wow, I didn't realize just how long it has been since I updated this, almost two years? Just wow, I've been really lacking on my speedster love lately. I'm glad Tumblr gave me the speedster feels to get me writing these two again, they are just cute. I'll be sure to write more of these two, I just need to get back into the swing of writing these two again as well.
Here is the the almost two year over-due chapter 8!
Summary: Iris does her best to calm her panicking nephew, but she is no Barry Allen when it comes to calming Wally down.
Warning: Anxiety attack, Panic attack.
Disclaimer: I Don't Own Young Justice.
Chapter Eight: Breathe
And more dirt.
Green iris' darted back and fourth, for a spot where there was no dirt surrounding him. Then it hit him, hit him like a ton of bricks, he was back in that coffin, the same coffin the Rogues buried him in months ago.
He was buried alive all over again. Buried six feet below the surface, with no chance of escape, "No, no, no, no!" Wally cried out, pressing his hands against the top of the coffin, in hopes that it would burst open and he would be free.
But no matter how much force he pushed against the top, it wouldn't budge, not even a little bit. "No, no, no, this can't be happening." He panicked, "Not again."
He squeezed his eyes shut, his head falling back painfully against the bottom of the coffin. He swallowed thickly, and his hand searched for something, when he felt it his heart leapt into his throat.
The metal was cool to the touch, which sent chills running over his skin. This was the gun he nearly killed himself with before, he now had a way out.
Before he knew it his hand was wrapped around the gun, his finger resting against the trigger. He laughed at himself bitterly, he was close to hysterics at the thought of being buried again.
"No!" Wally yelped, dropping the gun and pushing it down by his feet, so it would not longer be in his reach. Bringing his hand up, her rubbed his eyes with the nubs of his finger, "No, no, no, no."
No way in, no way out.
His already rapid heart rate was slowly starting to race, the palpitations becoming so rapid he was sure that his heart was going to burst through his chest. He could already start to feel his body trembling, his arms were becoming to weak to push against the top of the coffin.
"Get a grip, West!" Wally whispered harshly to himself, closing his eyes, "I-It's just a dream…just a stupid nightmare…it's not real…Uncle Barry got me out."
He told himself over and over that he was home, not in the coffin, he wasn't surrounded by dirt, and he wasn't buried alive. He was home safe and sound. His uncle had gotten him out, the gun was taken away from him, he was taken to the hospital and was released. He was on the couch and he fell asleep watching television.
Squeezing his eyes together; he took a few deep breaths through his nose and slowly exhaled through his mouth. What he would give to have a brown paper bag to breathe into right now. A few more deep breaths and he was sure that his nerves were settled enough.
"Okay…" he muttered, "Just open your eyes and you'll be on the couch."
Slowly opening his eye lids, his stomach did flip-flops.
The coffin was smaller.
And getting smaller…
"No!" Wally yelled, pressing his hands back against the top of the coffin. He could feel the coffin slowly but surely getting smaller, it was slowly pressing into his shoulders from the sides, and he could feel the top moving towards him no matter how hard he pushed.
"No, no, no, no!"
The once wide spaced coffin, was now so small he could barely move. He was not in the smallest, most cramped space he had ever been in, in his entire life.
"Wake me up!" Wally screamed at the top of his lungs, pounding his fist against the coffin, "Get me out of here! Uncle Barry! Uncle Barry, help me!"
His chest heaved in desperate gasp of air, his lungs burning from not getting enough oxygen. He pushed again with everything he had. No matter how much force he put into it, the coffin was slowly getting closer and closer to his face. He was running out of room, he was going to be crushed.
"I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die!" Wally cried out, "I don't want die!"
"Uncle Barry, help me!"
He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see the closing in the rest of way around him. If he was going to die, he didn't want to see it happen, he would only feel himself being crushed.
He silently cursed himself, for tossing the gun away. He whimpered when he felt the top of the coffin pressing against the tip of his nose.
"Uncle Barry, please help me…"
"Wally, wake up!" a voice boomed in his ears.
Wally's eyes instantly snapped open, his body jolting up into the sitting position. His hand firmly pressed against his chest; that was tightening in the most painful way. His green eyes dart around with rapid speed, scanning his surroundings.
The living room.
"Wally," he heard his aunts voice, "Wally, you need to breathe."
Lifting his head, the speedster looked at his aunt who was staring back at him, her face marred with concern. He only shook his head, he couldn't think straight enough to say anything to her. He couldn't breathe. Not being able to breathe cause him to panic more, causing him to breath faster to catch his breath, which wasn't helping, but making it worse. His lungs were starting to burn, and his sides ache.
"Wally, sweetheart." Iris said in a stern voice, sitting across from him. She grabbed his shoulders and gave them a firm shake to get him to focus on her, "Wally, look at me, slows breaths."
Wally reached up with a shaky hand and gripped his aunts arm in a death grip, digging his nails into her flesh, "I-I can't…" he gasped out, looking at her with eyes full of panic, "B-breathe…"
"Just take in slows breaths." Iris encouraged him.
"Wally you need to breathe slowly."
"Do I need to slap you?" Iris asked, looking at him with a serious look. Though she didn't want it to come to that, the thought of slapping her nephew shook her to the core. But if she had to, she would.
Wally lifted his head a bit to look at her, the gears in his brain slowly turning, slowly registering the words she said. He shook his head, and turned his gaze down to the fabric of the couch.
Frowning slight, Iris bit the inside of her cheek, trying to think of how to handle this situation. Barry was normally the one who could get Wally to calm down; he always knew what to say. But he was busy with a League mission, leaving her to tend to her panicking nephew on her own.
"Wally, come on." Iris said, "Lay on your back."
It took a moment before her words registered with him, and he slowly fell back on the couch. He tightened his grip on her arm to make sure that she was still there with him. Using his free hand, he covered his eyes to prevent her from seeing the tears the wanted to escape his eyes.
"Are you sure you don't want me to slap you?
A small shake of the head.
"Was it…was it the coffin again?"
Iris pursed her lips into a thin line, it had been months since he had that nightmare. Barry always woke him up, he always seemed to know when Wally was having that dream. Now, she was going to have to think of a way to get him calm down in Barry's absence.
"I'll be right back, sweetie." When she stood up, Wally tightened his grip on her arm, almost tugging her back to sit down next to him, telling her he didn't want her to leave him alone.
"Wally, I'll be right back, I promise."
Wally shook his head.
Iris' frown deepened, she gently grabbed her nephews hands that was tightly gripping her arm to try and get him to let go. It took a few moments, and a few tries of pulling his fingers off her arm one by one; but she was finally bale to get her arm free and quickly make her way to the kitchen.
Opening cabinet after cabinet looking for the small paper bags she used to pack her boys' lunches in the morning. They say that breathing into a bag can help stop a panic attack, something to do with breathing into in the CO2. When she finally found it, she rushed back into the living room.
Iris was regretting leaving Wally unattended, even if it was only for a minute, it seemed to have made thins worse. Walking around the couch, she gently placed her hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake, "Wally, I'm going to need you to sit up for me."
Wally shook his head.
"Come on, Wally, up you go." Iris told him, gently putting her hand between the couch and his back, and slowly helping him sit up. She held him until he could sit up on his own. When she moved her hand from his back, she winced feeling that familiar strong grip return to her arm.
She hoped that him having someone to hold onto would help settle down just a bit, letting him know someone was there. But his gasp for air only seemed to be picking up even more than they were before.
"Wally, I need you to breathe into this bag."
Wally stared at the bag his aunt was holding out towards him, his gaze drifting up to her, "I-I can't…I can't…" he managed to tumble a few words out between gasp, "I-I can't feel my feet and hands…I-I can't feel…"
If Iris didn't know about panic attacks, she would have been alarmed. But she knew that it was a side affect of not enough oxygen getting to his extremities, "It's okay, sweetheart." She assured him, but she knew he wouldn't believe her.
"I know, breathe into the bag."
With a shaky hand, the speedster grabbed the paper bag and pressed the end to his mouth. He tried to breathe into the bag, but it wasn't expanding and shrinking like it should have been. He couldn't keep his hand steady enough to do so.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he couldn't do it. Whimpering he pulled the bag away from his mouth, and cough out a glob of spit into the bag. Wrinkling his nose in disgust he dropped the bag to the ground next to the couch.
"Wally, you need breathe into the bag." Iris told him, gripping his shoulder with her free hand, "You're starting to scaring me."
Wally shook his head. He wasn't going to do something that clearly wasn't working at all.
"Do I need to take you to the hospital?"
Wally stared at his aunt for a moment at the mention of the word hospital. What would they do? Give him an IV-drip? Make him breathe into a bag? He shook head; he didn't want to go to the hospital. He wanted to stay here at home. Making sure she knew that, he carefully laid himself back on the couch.
Iris watched her nephew carefully, biting down painfully on her lip. Going to the hospital did sound like a good idea at the moment. But she knew that they would be there for hours, the doctors would want to run test, and they would possibly call a psychologist. For now, all she could do was wait, and hope that he would calm down, if it continued she just might have to take him to the emergency room.
Looking towards the clock, it was approaching 10:30pm. A trip to the emergency room was getting more and more unappealing by the second. It was time to call in reinforcements. Turning back towards her nephew she frowned again, his bright red face was concerning, "Wally, hey." She said trying to get his attention, by patting his cheek gently until he finally looked at her, "Do you want me to call Barry?"
Green bloodshot eyes squeezed shut, "I-I can't…" Wally gasped out, "I-I can't…breathe…"
"I know you can't, sweetie," she gently patted his hand that gripped her arm tightly, "I'm going to call Barry, alright…but I'm going to need my arm back again to do so…"
At the mention of letting go of her arm, Wally instantly tightened his grip on her arm, so tight that it made her flinch. He shook his head; he didn't want to lose his grip on her, not again. "I-I can't…I-I." He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a few choked sobs.
"Or not…" Iris whispered, knowing that she wasn't going to get her arm free a second time, no matter how hard she tried. She reached for her cell phone resting on the coffee table and silently dialed the number she known by heart for years. She didn't care if her husband was going to get an earful from the League for talking to his wife and leaving in the middle of a mission. When it came to her and Wally they always came first, she just hoped Barry would get there as fast as he could.
Every ring felt like an entirety, this had to be how her husband and nephew felt all the time.
Iris gently brushed off the sweat-drenched bangs off her nephews' forehead. She was so glad he wasn't home alone when this happened, she wasn't sure that Wally would have moved from his spot on the couch, he probably wouldn't have called anyone, he wouldn't know what to do.
"Hey honey!" Flash's voice rang through the phone, pulling her from her thoughts.
"Barry, we have a problem, I need you to come home, now."
"What kind of problem? Did Kid make a mess again?"
Iris pursed her lips into at thin line at the laugh her husband let out, normally she would be laughing with him, but not this time, "Not exactly…" as soon as those words left her mouth, the laughter instantly stopped.
"Wally is having a panic attack, and I can't get him to calm down."
Pulling her phone away from her ear, she noticed the call had been completely disconnected. She didn't know if the call was dropped, or if her husband had just completely hung up on her because he received an earful by Batman for being on the phone. She frowned and started to dial the number again. Right as she was about to press dial, a gust of wind stopped her.
A red blur appeared next to the panicking young speedster, even with his mask on, the sheer panic on the older speedsters face was clear. "Hey, hey Kid," Barry said softly, brushing the sweat-drenched bangs off his forehead, "It's okay, hey, hey!"
Wally slowly turned his head towards his uncle, tears trailing down his bright red cheeks, "I-I can't…" Wally gasped out, "I-I can't breathe…Uncle Barry…"
Flash reached up, pulling the cowl off his head. Wally needed his uncle, not the Flash. He gently grabbed his nephew and helped him sit up for a moment, but it was only so that he could sit down so Wally's head could rest in his lap.
Wally's grip on Iris' arm was released and completely forgotten and his hand now gripped Barry's arm. The young speedster was digging his nails into the elders' skin, just like he did when he opened the coffin. Yet Barry gave no reaction, not even flinch, he didn't yell out, he just allowed it to happen.
"It's okay, Wally." Barry said soothingly, brushing the bangs off his head, "Just take a few deeps breaths for me."
Wally squeezed his eyes shut, trying to concentrate of breathing in a few deep breaths like his uncle told him to. After the first deep breath, he broke out into a coughing fit, gagging on his own spit in his mouth, "I-I can't…"
Barry gave a lopsided smile, "I know, but you have to try."
"Just try, sweetie." Iris said leaning over the couch, giving her nephew an encouraging smile to help him feel better.
A smirk twitched at the elder speedsters lips, he looked up towards his wife, "Why don't you start some cookies for when he calms down." He smiled, "I'll calm him down."
"Are you sure?" Iris asked, concern lacing her words.
Hesitantly, Iris went into the kitchen, which wasn't that far away, but Barry knew how Wally was feeling at the moment. Over crowded. Even if it was two people, in panic attack, two could feel like 200 people surrounding him, and that could make me feel more claustrophobic, possibly making him panic even more.
"Hey, Hot Rod." Barry whispered softly, "Open your eyes."
Green eyes slowly opened, staring up at him with a pained expression, "M-My sides…"
"Just breathe, Hot Rod."
Wally took a few deeps breaths, before breaking out into another coughing fit. He tightened his grip on his uncles' arm. "I-I can't."
"Wally, if you don't calm down, I'm going to have to take you to the hospital."
Wally let out a few choked sobs, "T-The coffin… t-the dirt…I-I didn't want to die!"
"You're not going too."
Barry's heart broke in his chest. He hoped his nephew wouldn't have that nightmare ever again; his own chest was tightening thinking about it. Barry remained silent for a moment, gently brushing the bangs off his nephews forehead, "You're okay, Hot Rod." Barry assured him, "You're safe."
The gasps for air from his nephew were still there, but Barry could tell that they had slowed down tremendously since he gotten there. You're doing great, Kid."
Barry shook his head, he couldn't believe that his nephew was apologizing for this, "Don't be, Hot Rod."
A frown pulled at Barry's lip when he heard sound of the gasp for air picking up again. Out of instinct, Barry grabbed his nephew and pulled him fully into his lap, holding him like a child, his arms wrapped tightly, and securely around him.
Wally buried his face into his uncles' neck. This was humiliating, he was 15 and his uncle was holding him like he was an eight year-old child. He was thankful this wasn't at the cave; he was sure that his team would have never let him live it down.
But he felt safe, relaxed.
"It's okay, Hot Rod."
Wally gripped his uncles uniform in a white-knuckle grip. His gasp for air, picking pace for a few moments before slowing down.
"That's it, just breathe…"
Barry swore he felt his nephew go limp against him, his breathing steady. There was no gasping, no choked sobs; just nice steady breathing with a sniffle and here and there.
The grip on his uniform remained, but it wasn't a white-knuckle grip, it was relaxed. A smile tugged at his lips, when he heard an even deep breathing, he knew exactly what the meant.
"Is he okay?" Iris tiptoed her away out of the kitchen and peeked over the couch to find her nephew asleep in his uncles' arms.
"Yeah," Barry nodded, "He worked himself up so much, to the point of exhaustion, he just needs to sleep."
Iris smiled, seeing her nephew sleeping, he looked so peaceful and his face was slowly returning to its original color, than the bright red that it was before. She couldn't do what Barry did. She didn't have a tricks that Barry did to get her nephew to calm down.
"All he needs is assurance," Barry smiled, looking up at his wife. He carefully stood up with his sleeping nephew in his arms, "I'm going to put him to bed…"
Iris smiled softly when she felt the gust of wind rush by her and up the stairs. Iris exhaled her held breath, a breath she didn't realize she had been holding, "I think I needed to breathe…" she silently laughed at herself.
Author's Note: I'm so sorry this is so short, and probably crappy. I tried to remember everything. Back in January, I was told by my dad that he was diagnosed with Stage 4 Pancreatic cancer on his birthday of all days. Let's say I didn't take the news very well and had my first panic attack. That fact that I couldn't breathe was making me panic more, it lasted three long hours. My mom offered to slap me, the bag didn't do anything, and she was five minutes away from taking me to the ER. My brother came, and held me in his lap until I calmed down. I'm 20 years old and my big brother held me like a 5 year-old in his lap, until i basically fell asleep in his lap.
I put a memory from In The Grave, hehe. All the mistakes are mine, and will fixed on a later date. Now I have to go take a Microbiology midterm.
I hope you all enjoyed.
Until Next Time!