A/N: I hate long author's notes, so I'll get to the point. I hated how no one knows how Wally learned Robin's identity, so I made up my own version.

Wally growled as he mashed at the buttons, twisting his arms as if it would cause the player on the screen to copy his movements. The pixelated man stubbornly refused to cooperate, effectively getting his head chopped off by his sword-wielding rival. The screen flashed, announcing the victor of the round to be Sir Robin, and Wally gritted his teeth. Even with apparently no effort from the boy beside him, Wally still managed to get decimated. No recognition of the win showed on Robin's face. In fact, he had showed no expressions since arriving at Uncle Barry's several hours prior.

Something was off. Wally could just sense it. He and Robin had been inseparable for months, ever since they started hanging out outside of the uniforms, so Wally was confident he knew the other boy pretty well. Something was definitely off. His usually witty, sarcastic friend had been unusually reticent and terse the last few days. Jokes were nonexistent; smiles, rare. The boy was a shell of his former self, and Wally was going to find out why. Deciding that now was as good a time as ever, Wally threw his game controller down and turned to face his non-gloating, yet still victorious opponent.

"What gives?" he demanded, crossing his arms and staring Robin straight in his sunglass-shielded eyes.

"What?" Robin asked, unfazed by Wally's attitude. Not a sore loser comment in sight. Wally sighed.

"Come on Rob, what's up?" he pressed gently, scooting closer to his friend. Robin tensed, and Wally felt his heart sink to his toes.

"Nothing," Robin gritted out, visibly fighting the instinct to flinch. Wally halted his advance, staring at the younger boy with pleading eyes.

"You can talk to me Rob," whispered a despondent Wally. "Please talk to me." Robin didn't. Instead he stood and walked to the TV, switching it to cable and passing the remote to Wally before reclaiming his seat. Wally sighed in defeat and flipped through the channels quickly before finally stopping on a celebrity gossip station.

"In other news, today marks the five year anniversary of billionaire Bruce Wayne's very public adoption of Richard "Dick" Grayson, a young acrobat who was orphaned five years ago in a tragic accide-"

The TV sparked as Robin's game controller shattered the screen, turning the picture of three smiling acrobats into a smoking pile of black glass. Jumping up, Wally tensed for an attack before he realized that it was Robin's doing. He warily sat back down beside his friend, sneaking a glance at the young boy from the corner of his eye. A tear glistened from beneath the sunglasses.

"Already five years," Robin whispered hoarsely, swiping at the tear before ripping the glasses from his face and throwing them at the carpet. Wally gulped, not knowing what to say as he saw his best friend's eyes for the first time, red and shining with unshed tears. "I can still see them falling, see them hitting-" Robin- Dick, for surely he was Dick now- broke off, burying his face in his hands. His back shook with sobs, yet he made no sound.

"Dick," Wally whispered, desperately needing to break the loaded silence. Dick stiffened, but didn't move, and Wally placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I couldn't save them," Dick croaked. "We couldn't save them. That's the only reason he took me in, y'know. Both of us orphans of parents we couldn't save, forever damned to save everyone but them. The ones we want most to save." Wally, swallowing past a growing lump in his throat, pulled Dick into an embrace, the sobbing boy burying his face in Wally's neck. Tears flowed freely from both boys as they wept quietly over those who could not be saved, Dick for his parents and Wally for Dick.

When the crying ceased and the silence grew awkward, Wally found himself doing what he did best: making lame jokes.

"You are so buying Uncle Barry a new TV, Little Robin Rich Kid," Wally quipped. Dick pulled back and looked at his friend with a small smile playing at his lips.

"Why? So Kid Crybaby can accuse me of cheating at every single game?" Wally's face threatened to split in two as he grinned, retrieving Dick's sunglasses from the floor.

"It's not an accusation if it's true," he retorted, handing the glasses to Dick, who simply hooked them on his pocket.

"Accusation, noun, the charge or claim that someone has done something illegal or wrong, the act or process of making such a charge or claim. I didn't hear anything about the validity of said charge or claim." Dick grinned before settling into a smug smirk. Wally stuck his tongue out, then took on a serious (for Wally) expression.

"Really though, Uncle Barry will kill me if he sees this." Wally gestured broadly to the destroyed television and glass-coated carpet, wincing slightly.

"I think we can figure something out," Dick drawled, a wicked glint in his eye.


"WAL-LY!"

Wally's head snapped up at super speed, all traces of sleep gone as he flew downstairs, his mind racing faster than his feet. Uncle Barry didn't sound hurt, so that was a good thing. Angry? Shocked? Wally couldn't be sure, but he needn't speculate much longer. As he skidded to a stop by the front door, he immediately realized what had Uncle Barry so worked up. There, sitting innocently on the front porch, was a large cardboard box, the picture boasting a 60" plasma screen TV. Slowly, for him anyway, Wally stepped forward, reaching a finger out to gently poke the box before flinching back. No fiery blast, no deadly toxin, no Jack-in-the box squirting acid.

Confident that it wasn't going to explode, Wally strolled up to the package and swiped up the card sitting on top. The first thing he noticed was the red bird emblem.

Kid Crybaby,

Now I can kick your butt in HD.

R

Wally grinned, stuffing the card in his pocket as he turned to his uncle.

"C'mon, let's get this thing hooked up. I need to practice."

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