Bart Allen

Bart had won—the Reach had been thwarted, the Blue Beetle was a hero, and the world wasn't a graveyard. But the price was high, including their relationship: something beautiful built in the middle of devastation. In this year, she was unscarred by the grey skies and food shortages of the timeline he'd successfully deleted. Of course he didn't say anything about it, he couldn't—but his care and behavior around her betrayed his feelings. Now they stood on the periphery of the Justice League's latest tactical perimeter, watching others move through the debris of the fallen reach-sentry with professionalism, busying themselves by moving civilians to safety. Even during this time, crime never rested. Bart sped back to her side, adjusting his goggles above his forehead, satisfied with the task completed. "Hey, that's some seriously crash timing on the catch there! Really feeling the mode of this whole 'saving the day' thing, starshine?" He caught himself too late—the familiar endearment just slipped past his lips with the ease of habit. "I'm surprised you handled it, you always—I mean, you're the type of person who just has everything under control." He spoke quickly, drumming his fingers against his hip in a frantic rhythm—trying to mask his slip-up with a trademark, lopsided grin.