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Wallace West’s face is plastered on every free inch of space in Central City. After a while, the young and open expression becomes familiar to the busy people of the city and they no longer stop to glance at the information on the missing posters.
“He’s not my son,” Barry Allen says into the microphone as he stares into the cameras with blue eyes that are slightly rimmed with red. “But I love him as if he were mine. He’s only fifteen, and I would hate to see anything happen. If anyone has any knowledge of Wally’s whereabouts, please-” His voice cracks on the words and he raises a hand to wipe a lone tear from out of the corners of his eyes. “Please help him get back to us.”
His wife, Iris, is there to take his hand and lead him away from the mess of cameras and reporters. Her hand is soft in his and she presses the lightest of kisses to his cheek. “We’ll find Wally,” she promises as she watches her husband mourn the loss of the child that they loved as if he was their own. “No matter what, we have to remember that we have so many good people helping us look for him.” She thinks of Hal Jordan and the other people that are currently doing all that they can to find the little boy that was taken from right in front of his high school.
Somehow, she isn’t comforted.
Barry’s shoulders shake as his chest heaves and a raw sounding sob escapes his throat. “Who would take our boy,” he breathed. “He may be a metahuman, but he would never hurt a fly...” He presses a hand to his face and sighs loudly as he fights the urge to break down and cry.
Iris wraps her arms around her husband’s narrow waist as she rests her head on his shoulder. Tears fill her eyes and blur her vision, but still she clings to her husband –her knight- as if he is the only thing keeping her heart from breaking.
“We will get Wally back,” she whispers against the quivering pulse point at Barry’s throat as she tries to keep her mind from coming up with the worst mental images. “We just have to…”