That is what we are in the end, stories

Now, though, his privilege is a moment of silence - or as close to silence as he ever gets. He wouldn't trade his kids for the world, but a moment to breathe was nice. To decompress and get chores done. 

At least, that's what he thought he was going to do. As always, the universe had other plans for him. He’d been in the kitchen, taking in the morning quiet as he set about making breakfast. Eggs, bacon, toast, the usual. Coffee in the pot, orange juice in the pitcher, cereal on top of the fridge and milk inside it. He was pretty sure he still had some wild strawberries, too - maybe he should rinse those off and set them out. Might be good. He really does need to be sure the kids are eating a balanced diet… 

Speaking of, sounds like Gabby’s awake. 

“Mornin’, kiddo.” He called over his shoulder. He can hear Jonathan running around too - weird as the situation is, the hairball’s been good for her. Gotta give him that. And it helps get her out of bed early, since Jonathan needed to be let out. Win win. 

…

She's been out there for a long time. 

“Gabby?” He turned to face the door, one brow raised in curiosity. No response. That's not too weird - the two of them do like going off on their own, and he hadn't heard or scented anything that might be a problem. Still… His eyes narrow towards the window. What was taking her so long? Sounds like she’s just- Sitting there. “Hey, soup’s on!” He knows she can hear him. Even without having his senses, she's not that far away. … Oh, well. Maybe it's just a teenager thing. Logan’s still figuring out being a parent, sure, but he’s been a teacher and a mentor to know that sometimes, if a kid was sitting quiet, they wanted quiet (or they were getting into shit, but he didn’t hear or scent anything alarming). He’d give her until the coffee was done, and if she still hadn’t come inside (or he heard something worrying), he’d go check on her. In the meantime, might as well get dressed for the day. As he closes the door to his room, he hears Laura getting up, too. Right on time. Maybe she’d be a peach and set the table for him - but he wouldn’t bother asking. It was hard enough to get that girl to take a vacation. If he got it in her head that she had to do chores, all his work getting her to relax would be for zip. Better to leave it up to her. He flicks on his little radio clock, doing his best to tune out the rest of the world as he listens to the weather forecast and some songs dubbed ‘oldies’ that he remembered being released. For the most part, he succeeds, but he can still hear Laura puttering about on the edge of his perception. He hears her head downstairs as he tugs his jeans on. She’s outside when he threads his belts through the loops and fastens the buckle (the wolf one he’d gotten as a birthday gift a few years ago; didn’t seem to matter when he told people not to bother celebrating, since he wouldn’t be around on the actual day). He pulls his tank top on right before he hears her bolt up the stairs. 

He doesn’t bother grabbing his flannel. He’s moving by the time the door is open. 

“What situation?” He asked, matching her stride. The stairs are too slow. He takes them three at a time.

He smells the salt before his feet hit the floor. 

Gabby did not respond at first.

Not when dad called out to her the first time, not when Laura popped out to see what was taking her so long, not until Logan was right beside her, reached for her shoulders, and she flinched at the contact, tear-filled eyes staring without really looking at him, more so through him, before they refocused and she slumped forward, buried her face against him and sobbed. A loud, broken sound like nothing she had ever uttered before.

Laura looked around. There was no hearing anything off with how loud Gabby was crying, but that did not stop her from trying to catch any scents or sight of anything that stood out. Bellona did not exactly blend with the browns and greens of the forest, at all.

Gabby pulled back from Logan then, standing up on shaky legs and ignoring even Jonathan as he approached to see what was wrong with her, holding onto the sleeves of the hoodie as if trying to hold onto the very scent that clung to it, as if that would stop it from fading away; and looked around the same way Laura had. Already, the hoodie was starting to smell like the saltiness of tears, like Logan and like Gabby herself, leaving only an undertone of the sender's scent.

"She's gone, Gabby."

"She wouldn't—" Gabby started, voice hiccuping. "She would not leave without saying goodbye, she promised!"

It took a lot of convincing before Gabby agreed to get back in the house, but there was no getting her away from the window. She sat close by, looking out in hopes that Bellona would change her mind and come back.

Laura sat with Logan at the kitchen table, rubbing her temples as she tried to find a way to explain this. She would not say it out loud, but it was clear in her face that she would have very much rather Bellona stay away than show up when nobody could have seen her and make Gabby so upset, even if it was to leave behind things for Gabby.

"Gabby is not the only clone of me that Alchemax made, she is just the youngest," she started. "There were other nine clones. Most of those girls were killed in one way or another, I only met three besides Gabby. They had a deal with my old handler, she helped them escape the facility so they could kill the guy that messed them up and once that was done, one of them had to go back with Kimura to her lab. Bellona was the only one besides Gabby that survived and so she went. I thought she would've died by now… I was wrong." her expression sobered. "That box reeks of her. So not only is she alive, she's loose. They're going to be looking for their missing asset, and Gabby- whoever they can catch first."

"You know what the deal was."

And the world will blame you.

Grampa Ira had three children. Charlotte was the oldest. She always talked down to me. Next came Ira's son— my dad, Rudolph. He and Grandpa were never close. But then again, dad is not close to anyone. Last —and BEST— came aunt Iris. Iris married the perfect man. His name was Barry Allen. Barry and I shared some special things. We were both superheroes. He was The flash and I was his kid sidekick. More than that, we both loved Iris. As far as we were concerned, she hung the moon and the stars. Iris died about 3 years ago. I haven't seen much of Grampa since. Desperate to avoid conversation I begin puttering through old boxes. With a twinge I realize what they contain. They are on irises personal effects. Apparently, grampa had forgotten he had them. Iris was so proud of barry. She kept scrapbook after scrapbook detailing his career. I wonder if I am in any of them? Oh put it in neutral, Wally. They were the king and queen of Camelot. You were just a serf. A court jester. Kid flash. Iris gave Barry so much of her heart that I was lucky there was any love left over for me. Barry was her world. I miss you Iris. I wanted you to be proud of me too. Guess you never knew that, did you? What's down here? This one looks different from the rest... "for Wally" oh Iris... you knew EVERYTHING`

—

The summer I turned 10 was the summer I stayed with her. The best summer ever. I'd just spent the previous decade in presenting Blue Valley Nebraska with two people who had no business being parents. Iris called and offered to put me up for a while when school let out. I'd finished packing by the time Mom got off the phone. I've never been that excited before or since. If I ever had lived in Omaha or St Louis or Flagstaff, I would still have been thrilled to be with her. But she lived in Central City home of The Flash. The coolest place in the world. Dad came home from work to see me off. I told him and Mom not to worry about me. As if they would. The bus ride was 4,000 miles long. It took nine weeks. I'd sweat that on a stack of bibles. Though it had been three Christmases since I've seen Iris, she stayed in touch with letters and clippings about the flash. She treated me like a friend-- not like a kid. We were two allies protecting each other against the rest of the West family.

—

"Is that it? That you don't want me bothering you? Why are you so mean to me?" "Look, we don't have time for this poor poor putupon Wally thing. You are my son and you're coming with me!" "You don't care about me! "Of course I do! I'm out here, aren't I?" "I'm not going!" "It's not up for discussion!" "NO! I WON'T LIVE WITH WITH YOU! I DON'T LOVE YOU!" "what?" "YOU HEARD ME, I DON'T—" And then there it was. Lightning. I was fortunate. There were enough leaves and branches underneath to cushion my fall. Dad wasn't so lucky. He was pinned. I tried moving the branch, but it was too heavy. "Dad! Dad, get up!" He couldn't hear me. I couldn't hear me. My ears were filled with a frightening roar that sounded like the end of the world. When I turned to see where it was coming from, I stopped being scared. There is no point in being afraid when faced with a tornado.

—