#but in..less than a month ill be living with one of my best friends (hal) and my other best friend (my sibling) will be across th country.

[nomaishuttle]

gn everybody. smiles widely

[commanderquill]

Of Future Days Past

“I’m from the future,” Bart declares, his bold voice amplified across the stage, over the heads and into the ears of the hundreds of people surrounding him.

Jaime feels his breath catch. He tries not to let his anxiety show. There’s only one person looking at him, and that’s the boy standing on the stage with a microphone taped to his face, feet shoulder width apart and back rim rod straight like he’s preparing for battle. But even though it’s only one set of eyes, they’re the most important ones, and the ones that need encouragement the most. Jaime tries to put on his best smile. He’s sure it comes across shaky and uncertain.

It’s been a year since the public found out about the Justice League’s Watchtower in space, the weapons they mentioned nothing about, and the influx of aliens that could easily masquerade as humans. Butting heads with the government was bad enough, but a government gets its power from the will of its followers. Previously, the government could only do so much against a group of people supported by its citizens.

But after the invasion, the public grew less inclined to sympathize with the League. Jaime had almost expected the opposite -- hoped for the opposite. But he should have known better. The Justice League proved that they were on the side of the good, that the people who attempted to discredit and frame the League for wrongdoing had horrible intentions, but that means nothing when it comes to the question of trust. The Reach lied to them, but so did their so-called protectors.

The new initiative was Wonder Woman’s idea. If the League can reach out to the people, display their trust in the people, then maybe the people will trust in them again. Green Lantern volunteered to go first, and he walked on a stage months ago, the act broadcasted around the world as billions of eyes awaited with bated breath for the truth. He stood on that stage and explained to the entire world what a Green Lantern really is.

A police force, the protectors of the universe, but that wasn’t good enough. He explained what powers a Green Lantern ring, the emotion and the purpose behind it. He told everyone who the Guardians of the Universe are, where Oa is, and every other color on the spectrum.

He told the public what a Yellow Lantern is, and the effect of one on a Green Lantern, although he smoothly neglected to mention the incredible power of the color yellow itself. His victories and failures, bared for everyone to see.

Hal Jordan may be a founding member of the League, but Jaime certainly didn’t know near enough about him, not until that moment. Neither did the rest of the world. Regularly absent, the Green Lantern wasn’t often thought about, and knowledge on who he was, where he came from, whether or not there really was more than one, was a scarcity.

That wasn’t the case for long.

The Flash volunteered to go next. That was today, months after Hal’s daring move, and Jaime has been sitting here already for at least an hour as Barry described the source of his powers, his connection to the speedforce, what the speed force is, why it exists. He talked about some of his feats, some of his failures, and all the tricks and stunts he’s learned throughout the years.

Bart never volunteered, not out loud, not to the League or to the world. But when Jaime first walked in an hour ago, blending in with the crowd, and slipped into the back where Bart was pacing and asked why Bart was so nervous, it all spilled out.

“It can’t happen again,” Bart said, gripping his own arms with a haunted expression on his face, gnawing his lip. “But it will,” he continued. “Because history repeats itself. But I can...say something. I can…”

Standing there in the skeleton of the sound room, tubs of meticulously coiled wires and empty microphone stands scattered around, sheltered by padded walls and dim lights, Bart’s costume seemed dirty. When it isn’t being reflected by the sun or brightened by the smile on his own face, that’s what it always looks like. Dirty, ill-fitting -- wrong. But Jaime hadn’t made the observation until then.

This is not an advised course of action. The Impulse is exposing possibly vulnerable information--

That’s the point, Jaime thinks vehemently. Shut up, I’m trying to listen.

Jaime is sitting now in the front with Connor and Cassie on either side of him. The rest of the team and the League are scattered amongst the crowd, unwilling to risk their identities by close proximity to one another. He had spotted Artemis on the far right side of the audience on his way in.

He sees out of his peripheral the way his two teammates stiffen in shock. Barry had introduced Bart on his way off the stage, but Jaime doesn’t think Bart had warned anyone else about his stunt.

“Well, actually, I guess that’s not true anymore,” Bart continues, the spotlights trained on him reflecting harshly over the plastic of his goggles. “When the Flash told you that he can time travel, he didn’t completely explain what that means. Because time isn’t a line. It isn’t even a circle. It’s more like a...sphere. A timesphere. You can move down into the past, you can move up into the future, or you can move left. You can move right. You can move into the sphere, towards the center, or out, towards the surface. The past may be set in stone, but there’s not just one -- there are millions of other versions of the past out there, and there will be millions more, because right now, somewhere, what has already happened to you is still happening to you.”

The audience is dead silent. “Are you completely confused now?” Bart says, with something like a rueful grin. “That’s nothing. Think of right now. Think of that thing you’re going to do after you leave here today. Are you going shopping? Are you going to class? Picking up your baby from the daycare? What if you don’t? Because everything you decide to do is just that -- it’s a decision. And in a decision, there are choices, and with choices come possibilities. And that’s all the future is. A possibility. It hasn’t happened yet, and even the speed force doesn’t know what it’s going to be, so the best thing it can do is give you glimpses of what could be. What can happen, if you choose to go to the grocery store or you choose not to. Because maybe in this universe, you do decide to go pick up milk, but in the second that you decide that, another universe is created where you decide not to go pick up milk. In this universe, the Nazis lost World War II, but somewhere else one of the decisions that made them lose wasn’t made, and in that universe the Nazis won. That’s called the multiverse.”

Bart pauses where he’s standing, in a walking stance with his head angled to the ground and his arm half out like he’s holding something. “So when I say I’m from the future, it just means that I’m from one of many futures, and it’s not necessarily the future of this time. I come from the future where the Justice League lost. The Reach defeated the Justice League, and the world ended.

“No, I guess that’s not true, either. The Earth was still here, at least. But Central City wasn’t. The people weren’t. The government was gone. The Reach took over this planet completely, and there was no one left but runaways and slaves. That’s the world I grew up in. I grew up in chains, in a cage, with a collar around my neck.

“Imagine falling asleep every night on the ground. The ground is too hot and you don’t know why, and you’ve never seen winter except in stories. You can’t enjoy the stars because you can’t even picture them in your head, and even though you see aliens every day who seem one step away from disposing of you like any other meatbag, this place seems totally alone. But you like the nights better, because the day constantly burns at your skin, and you’re always breathing in dust except when you’re breathing in ash, and the only difference is that ash comes in chunks. Imagine a world where the ocean is poison. Acidic. Destroyed by your invaders so that even if you escape, you’ll never find food.

“Meanwhile, the elderly people you know, the ones in their 50’s, so incredibly old for our standards that they’re considered ancient relics, keep telling stories about flowers, and the taste of strawberries, pecans, and cookies. The soothing feel of hot tea after a cold day. They keep telling you stories you want to hear but at the same time really, really don’t. Because while they get to live in their fantasy and rot their body away every day from the knowledge that they’ll never see home again, you’re being poked and prodded at with needles because those unblinking, black-eyed aliens want something you have, your very DNA, as if you haven’t already given them enough.

“If you imagine it well enough, you might know a sliver of my life.

“In that life, I met a man who became my only friend and the savior of this entire world. No one will ever know it, and he will never know it himself. I’m never going to tell him, because that would mean there’s a world that he destroyed instead of saved, somewhere out there still, and I can’t do that to him.

“He built me a time machine.” This is a lie, Jaime knows, but if Bart says that he can build a time machine too, he’ll attract more villains than he's already going to. “Crazy, right? I bet most of you here right now didn’t even know time travel was possible until the Flash came up here and told you himself. But it is, and my friend gave one to me with the criteria that I would go back in time, to the moment when he killed the Flash, and stop him.

“I did, if you didn’t notice. We thought that would be enough. We thought that if the Flash stayed alive, the Justice League would have the chance to beat the Reach. It took more than that. But now, that entire world where I grew up? It’s gone.

“A few months ago I watched as my dad was born. Roughly 20 years from now, I’m going to be there watching the day that I’m born into a world where I get to be friends with the Flash himself, a hero that I never previously knew. I get to go to high school, something that didn’t even exist for me. I get to have friends that were probably never even born in the world where I used to live. Yesterday, I saw a man that I remembered watching die in my arms, and he was laughing.

“And here’s the thing: All of it is possible because of one decision, one event that shaped history. And most of you in this room will probably leave and one day forget what I’m saying, or maybe some of you won’t even believe me. But every night I go to bed and dream of a world that now remains as nothing more than a nightmare, and I’m the only one in this universe who will ever know it. There’s a relief and a sadness in that.

“Because I remember that world every time I eat a new food I’ve only heard about in stories. Every time I eat a strawberry, or an apple, or steal my cousin’s Chicken Whizzies. And I’ll never take any of it for granted. But you will.”

Jaime is shocked to find that Bart is starting to get blurry, and it isn’t because he’s vibrating. Jaime blinks and lets the tear roll down his cheeks because he doesn’t want Bart to see him rub at his eyes and draw his attention.

“I see it every single day. You don’t know what you have. Any time someone comes and sucks up to you, you accept it because of pride, and you listen and follow when that same someone turns around and blames someone else for lies, because of anger.

“It’s right in front of you, constantly. A man in a suit preaching to you that he’s going to make everything better and take all the pain away, because you don’t want to do it yourself. There are people taking power from you and hanging it over your head and you’re letting it happen because it’s easy, and what’s the worst it can do?

“I’m here to tell you that the worst that can happen, will happen. Sometimes it’s in our control. Sometimes it’s not. Always, we have a choice to fight against that worst case scenario, or give up and let it happen.

“People tell me that their thoughts are only their opinions, and opinions can’t harm anyone. But are your opinions really your opinions, or the opinions of someone else? We’re impacted by what people say around us, and the more they say it, the more we remember, the more we repeat instead of question, the closer we become to megaphones than individuals. We let the rhetoric we hear now dictate what we’re willing to listen to in the future. It’s called normalization. If we give in even a little, compromise even a little, normalize what our leaders can get away with, we normalize those actions for the future. Every good compromise means giving a little ground, but when you keep giving ground, that isn’t compromise -- that’s apathy. That’s you not willing to stand up for what you believe because you’re letting others tell you what you should believe, and you’re following them when they say to just let them have what they want.

“Complacency is a disease. One that gave the Reach a world to exploit that wasn’t theirs, that killed you and sacrificed your children. You don’t remember it, and that’s the most dangerous part. The people who remember World War II are the ones who don’t want war. The ones who don’t are the ones who glorify it. So what will this become? A horrifying reminder that we’re not invincible, or a claim of pride that we are? Without knowing first hand what almost happened, the next time a leader tells us to trust them, will we believe them without question because we stopped anything bad from happening last time? Did we really learn nothing at all?

“Be the change you want to see. It’s a cliche phrase, but my reality is this: If you don’t decide to be that change now, someone else will decide for you. Eventually, you won’t have a choice, and you’ll spend your last days regretting that you never saw reality for how real it can be.

“My childhood gives me nightmares, but the worst thing I can imagine is forgetting it, because then I just might let it happen again.”

The room is so still that Jaime can’t even hear a cough, and Cassie’s elbow has already hit him twice in her attempts to unobtrusively wipe at her own eyes. Jaime pats at his cheeks because if he rubs at them, his nose and eyes will get too red to hide when he sees Bart later.

“Thank you,” Bart says, and walks off. Slowly, so everyone can see him, his head held high, and his steps only falter when Jaime stands up and starts clapping. He’s joined by Cassie and Connor and the whole front row and the second row and then the whole audience, but he doesn’t turn back around.

The clapping continues even as the lights turn back on.

Jaime leaves his friends behind as he hops onto the side of the stage while the cameras turn off and people start rising from their seats. He races behind the curtains, where Bart is standing stiff, Barry’s hand on his shoulder.

“You’re not mad?” Bart is saying, quietly. Barry’s eyes are the saddest Jaime has ever seen them, shadowed in pain and dark with empathy, his skin pale with stress. “We did this so they’ll trust us… I’m telling them not to.”

“You’re telling them not to be complacent towards their leaders, and you’re no one’s leader,” Barry responds, just as quietly. He kneels and grips Bart’s shoulders. “None of us are. We’re symbols of hope. We can have fans without followers. We give smiles instead of political speeches for a reason -- and no, I wouldn’t say that was a political speech. Inspirational, if anything.” He smiles then, small, as if a too-wide one would scare Bart off. “I’m so proud of you.”

So is Jaime, which is why he has a hard time waiting for Barry to back away before he barrels right into Bart’s back. His arms come up to wrap around his friend in a death grip, to the point that he doesn’t think Bart would be able to turn around and hug him back.

The Impulse’s heart rate is dangerously elevated.

I’m just impressed his heart is still beating at all, Jaime thinks. That must have been terrifying.

He can feel Bart shaking under him, and when he loosens his grip to take a step back and finally look at him, Bart takes advantage of the release to turn around and bury his face in Jaime’s collarbone.

The Impulse is close to vulnerable areas of the human--

“He’s not a vampire,” Jaime mutters, annoyed, and startles when he feels the shaking increase. It takes him a moment to realize that it’s because Bart is laughing.

“I don’t even want to know the context for that,” he says, and Jaime feels his face heat up. He wonders how Bart could be laughing right now, but it’s probably just nerves. Once Bart starts laughing, it doesn’t seem like he’s able to stop, but he still clutches Jaime close.

Jaime rubs circles on his friend’s back as he calms down. “I’m so moded right now,” Bart whispers. Jaime only barely catches it.

“Would you be able to laugh if you were moded?” he wonders out loud. “Or would it just be an evil cackle? Like Dick’s old Robin cackle?”

“Dick’s… Robin cackle?” Bart wants to know, and Jaime cranes his neck away from him dramatically.

“I can’t believe Wally hasn’t shown you the videos,” he exclaims. “I know what we’re doing today.”

Bart grins up at him. It’s as much tentative as it is bright.

They’re watching Dick pour a bucket of syrup all over Wally’s hair in an old Cave video on Jaime’s TV when Bart’s phone starts ringing. Bart rejects the call without looking at the caller ID.

When Jaime raises an eyebrow, Bart shrugs sheepishly. “It’s BC. She, uh, I think she wants me to go in for counselling? Or something?”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Jaime says neutrally. He continues before Bart can get offended. “Everyone on the team has already gone at least once. She wants to make it a routine thing, but our schedules are so screwed up that anything routine is a pipedream.”

“I’ve lived this long without therapy,” Bart comments.

“Therapy isn’t just for when something’s wrong with you,” Jaime points out. “Sometimes it’s nice to just have someone to talk to, who won’t judge or repeat anything you say.”

Bart shoots him a look that suggests Jaime is an idiot. It’s a dramatic move, considering it means twisting completely around on his perch sprawled out over the bed, leaning up against Jaime’s shoulder, so that he can see his face. “That’s what you’re for.”

“Still not a therapist.”

Bart sighs with his whole body. He deflates like a popped balloon. “Her office creeps me out.”

“It’s four walls, a desk, and a couch.”

“She creeps me out.”

Jaime stares at him.

“I just don’t want to, okay?” Bart pleads.

Jaime gives it a moment, watching the way Bart chews at his lip anxiously. “Okay,” he agrees finally.

Bart pushes away from his shoulder abruptly to look him properly in the face. “Okay?” he echoes.

“Yup.”

“Just like that? You’re not going to force me?”

“I’m your friend, not your mom.”

“My mom’s dead, so you can’t be her anyway.”

But Jaime isn’t going to settle for pessimistic comments today of all days. “Actually, I’m pretty sure she’s somewhere out there, crying for a diaper change.”

Bart slumps again. “Smart-ass.”

“The scarab has taught me well.”

Bart snorts.

They sit there in silence for a few more extended minutes, but then Bart slowly leans back into Jaime’s side. “You’re my best friend, you know that?”

It was never specified, but implied. Jaime doesn’t think Bart has even ever gone to the rest of the team’s houses -- then again, more and more of them are moving into the Cave, so maybe that’s not the greatest method of judgement. “I better be. Do you realise how much money I’ve sacrificed in snacks that I never get to eat?”

Bart sticks his tongue out and steals Jaime’s popcorn, just to spite him.

Sometimes, Jaime wonders how that’s possible. How can Bart, who just admitted in front of the world that he still sees the Reach in front of him most nights, look at Blue Beetle and see a friend instead of a foe? He doesn’t know, and there’s a cowardly part of him that doesn’t want to ask, in case somehow bringing up the question will make Bart finally remember what Jaime did to him. “You’re insane,” Jaime says.

“I know,” Bart says casually, dismissing the comment, but Jaime shakes his head.

“No, I mean it,” he says, and waits for Bart to give him his full attention. “You’re insane and you’re...amazing. You know that, right? You’re amazing.” Bart doesn’t answer, he just looks down at his feet. “I’m glad you’re my best friend.”

Bart beams up at him now, so quickly Jaime is fascinated by his apparent inability to get whiplash, all rosy cheeks and windswept hair and buttery lips. He flops down into Jaime’s lap as TV-Wally hangs TV-Dick from a wall hanger by his costume.

“Me too.”