If That's What It Takes

This is my first AU story, taking place at the end of "Before the Dawn." Unlike a lot of fans, who seem to think Dick and Wally's friendship is dying, I saw their fight in "Darkest" more as just that: a fight. Something that only the best of friends will survive. Yet, it did trigger something in Dick. So Nightwing takes it upon himself to fix what he has done, in the only way he can think of. He _is_ Wally's best friend after all. Young Justice characters are not mine and are used without permission but simply for the enjoyment of fans. Please R&R! Some events in this story are taken from elements of the Flash Comics arc "The Black Racer"

Prologue: I Will Risk Everything

Walking alongside the smoky, still blackened beach, Dick Grayson stuck his hands as deep into his pockets as he could. It was not often he emerged in his civilian form, especially lately. It was risky. He was reluctant to let Tim do it at all, that was the Bat in him and his paranoia coming out full force. He supposed he had a right to be paranoid though. Everyone could state they had a right to be paranoid now, with the alien invasion running full force. He had more reasons than most, as much of the alien invasion would have killed to have his head on a stick. He was the leader of the problem team that kept causing them delays after all.

He really didn't feel like much of a leader right now though. Truthfully, the attack on Mount Justice had been necessary but now, as he walked along where he and his closest friends had laughed and thrown sand at each other, convinced Conner to first try surfing, helped M'gann hunt for sea shells and explaining to her why some of the creatures had hard bodies and some didn't, he felt his heart tighten more with each step. Very little sand remained, much of it had been blown away or turned into sharp unfriendly pieces of glass. If he looked close enough though, he could convince his imagination to remember what it had been once.

His only comfort right now was that all their captives had been rescued. It eased his heart. He had always been very careful to never let anything happen to his teammates. He may have moved them to where he needed them, manipulated to make sure the mission was fulfilled but all his plans had been developed with every intention of keeping his team safe. Getting caught in the debris when Mount Justice was destroyed had nearly killed him when he realized how damn lucky they HAD been.

Wally had not helped when he reminded him.

Dick really couldn't blame his old friend though. If their circumstances had been reversed, he would have been angry too. Plus, though Wally had not said it, Dick had caught the way he had looked him up and down quickly, making sure he was unharmed. He had seen the way the fear broke through his eyes occasionally. Wally was worried about Artemis but he was also worried about him, about the others. Wally had never really been the type to say if he was scared or frightened. He felt the need to be Mister Macho man, maybe now more than ever.

Dick knew more than anyone else, except maybe Artemis, that if Wally could have been out on the field, he would have been. Wally loved to help people, he had not lost that. His retirement from the hero life had not been by choice, it had been necessary. Artemis had retired because she did not see it as fair that Wally had to hang up to the costume just to see her rush off to fight every night. It would drive him nuts to know he couldn't be there to help her, to protect her, though she was not shy about reminding him that she needed no such protection.

The way Wally had leapt back into the suit when his Uncle was in danger was proof enough that the desire still flooded his veins. Unbeknownst to most people, Dick had been the one to ask Wally to step down. When they found out that his body chemistry was so unstable and that all the times he used his speed, he was just pushing himself close to—he couldn't bear the thought of losing his best friend, his brother of brothers. Not when it could be prevented, even if it was horrible to Wally's spirit.

Dick shook his head. Wally had initially been reluctant, he had stated "Who's gonna watch your back without me?"

Dick really wished he knew the answer to that question because lately he could have really used it. He really cursed whoever had thrown that illness into Wally's powers. It was not fair! Wally had always been one to put everyone else put before himself. He thrived on protecting others. He had used his speed to help others. After the battle where he had saved Queen Perdita, he had really thrown himself into helping others. Dick thought Wally had finally realized what he was truly capable of doing. Wally's self-esteem had never been the greatest but that mission had really told him what he was capable of.

Then after two years, Wally started getting sick. Horrible seizures where his muscles would tense and vibrate, then his blood pressure would cut through the roof. The fifth attack that came during a mission, Wally's heart had stopped.

That was when Dick begged him to step down, at least until they figured out a cure for it. Three long years had passed and Wally had seemed to accept his fate to be a civilian. It had killed his joyful spirit though. He had kept his studious side, his serious side that only Dick used to see. But now, that joyful, playfulness had vanished. Barry had commented on it and Wally had responded with: "Would you expect a paralyzed marathoner to be happy?" Barry had not had a good response to that; the speedsters' ability dictated every second of their lives.

It controlled their sense of time, their ability to even perform everyday tasks. He and Wally didn't interact much not because of a lack of wanting to but because Barry's speed still illuminated everything he did and he did not want to remind Wally of what he had lost. Wally appreciated that. So, the two instead tended to run up massive phone bills. Yet it was not the same. Wally had commented to Dick once that as 'babyish as it sounded' he wanted his uncle to hug him again. He wanted to run with his uncle across America again, stopping at all the major diners. He wanted to race him down the Grand Canyon as he had 'never gotten that rematch race.' He wanted to do all these things he had planned, all these years he had spent training himself to be faster, so he could keep up with his uncle, so one day he could grin at him and tear past him, laughing about him being 'slow in his old age.' So he could be ready to take over his mantle when his uncle felt the time was right. He had even asked his uncle if they had chemistry labs in the Watchtower so he could utilize the science skills as a superhero. Every ounce of his future, every speck was wrapped around him being a hero. He loved it. He wanted to do it. He looked forward to telling his children about how he and Artemis made every effort to help as many people as they could.

And now, with that illness, he was a prisoner in his own body and slowly, ever so slowly, it was killing his soul.

The three years after Wally's diagnosis were spent with him learning to slow down again and he was not shy about telling Dick about how torturous it had become. How he watched his life crawl by at a snail's pace and was unable to utilize the power that flowed through his veins to do something about it.

School became Wally's escape. His ability to think had not been altered and he had always had a scientific genius for a mind. He was majoring in physics and chemistry, a double major. He drowned himself in work and with Artemis. Dick still came to see him but was careful to never show up as Nightwing. He didn't need to remind Wally of the team, of the superhero life.

Though not physically, Wally was in a sense paralyzed, unable to use the trait that had been one of his great attributes before he even got his speed. Artemis managed to get him to crack a smile now and again and she got his eyes to light up. Dick could on occasion. With the alien invasion though, not so much. Wally wanted to help and he had been trying in all the ways he knew how: Dick would send him information they got on the aliens and Wally would try and figure out the chemical components of their weapons, their physiology.

It was not what he wanted to do though. Dick could see it. The way he would have to restrain himself from running into the battles, the way he would wince momentarily whenever someone mentioned he had given up the hero life. The contempt he got from some of the others who wordlessly called him a coward. Dick had respected his friend's wishes and not told the others about his illness. Only a choice few knew, even out of the Justice League: Batman, Flash, Black Canary, and Captain Atom from the Justice League and himself, Aqualad and Artemis from their old team.

So his arguments the day or so ago after the loss of the mountain really made a lot of sense. Wally was worried about Artemis, understandably, but he also worried about him, his best friend. He was worried about the danger both of them were in. The brain did not do well under that kind of stress. To add on top of it, Wally was unable to enter himself, to protect them. When they were younger, Dick used to tease Wally about being his bodyguard, a fact that Wally did not deny, simply said "Someone has to watch your back, you crazy Bat."

Dick had not realized until now, when all these things were coming together, how much he had depended on that. He and Wally had been a team within a team, a twosome that played off one another without words and without prompting. Wally had told him once that a best pal was for questioning your objectivity. Dick had not had that for a few years and its effects were really beginning to show. He liked to think of himself as well trained enough that nothing could falter him, that he could remain focused no matter what the situation. However, the failing state of their resistance against the Invasion was making it very clear that he was suffering without his red-headed moral compass.

Now, to add to the mess, he found himself repeating what he had told Wally at the Hall of Justice not too long ago, once he had raised questions about Kaldur's loyalty:

"I made you a promise, right, Wally?"

He had, when he had asked Artemis to come back into the fight. He knew that such an action would tear his friend apart. That was something he had been hoping to avoid but Fate had other plans. He had not blamed Wally for his anger, his frustration, and his fear. After Artemis had accepted, he had taken Wally aside when he had told him of putting their plan into action and made him a solemn oath, saying,

Wally, there isn't much I can control in this plan once it takes shape, I know we talked about that…but I can make you this promise: I'll keep Artemis safe, no matter what.

Wally had given him a skeptical look, crossed his arms tightly over his chest, and his words had been tainted with poison when he accused his friend of lying straight to his face. Dick supposed his doubt was deserved and rightly so, and his oldest friend's face had remained cold, hard, until Dick had taken off his mask, looked at him with his dark blue eyes and added,

On the memory of Jonathan and Mary Grayson, I will make sure Artemis will come back to you.

Hence the reason he was here now. He stood silently, overlooking the dark forbidding ocean. The rescue of their captives had made one thing clear: something had compromised Kaldur. Beast Boy had babbled about M'gann taking care of him and the way he had described Kaldur…

Dick wasn't an idiot. Whatever it was that M'gann had done had rendered their inside source unreliable and Artemis…Tigress was such a new face that there was more of a chance than ever of her being deemed expendable or untrustworthy. Dick squeezed his eyes shut as the plan he and the others had tried to put so much thought into seemed to be coming apart at the seams. There was so much more at risk now and for what? For something that might not even work.

Stepping into a grove of rocks, he stepped into a small pool, a tidal pool that he and his teammates used to explore and laugh in. It was deep, with dips and turns. He stepped onto familiar rocks, up to his knees before taking a deep breath and plunging into the deeper waters. He opened his eyes instantly, internally wincing as the salt irritated them before he pressed down. He found the old hatch easily. The mountain had been blown but only a choice few knew of the small hangar located further below. Moving the old entryway was hard; it had not been used in years. But he managed it and dropped onto dry concrete before getting to his feet. It was a small room, made of steel and concrete and only about the size of an elevator. Water poured in, already up to his ankles as he sighted the small door on the steel and made that his destination.

He went to the second doorway and entered it quickly as the ocean water was following him just as quickly. This was meant as an emergency stash after all so therefore, the entrances and exits were hardly easy and glamorous. Slipping through, he closed the air hatch and watched it fill with water slowly and depressurize. Pushing a few buttons on the wall, the hatch slid back over the entrance he had used and the room began to drain. Taking a breath, having to get used to the murky smell, he walked on, pushing his wet hairs out of his face.

Batman had told him about this small section when he had asked him about some inconsistencies he had found in the blueprints. He had reported he had discovered the area was small but more than enough for some type of weapon. Rather than have him explore it on his own and possibly give away something, Bruce had taken him down here: their old hangar. There really wasn't much left, having been unneeded for so long, especially after the creation of the Watchtower but one plane, one all-terrain vehicle and one small submarine remained.

It was to the submarine that Nightwing went. A quick look over told him that it was still useable, if a bit slow. It was prepared for deep depths, outfitted with better than the finest military supplies; there was some type of alien or mystical metals in the thing. The controls were sound, it was water-ready, not that such a thing surprised him. He assumed Batman had been keeping up maintenance on these things, in case they were ever needed. That was just how that man was and he was never more grateful for it.

As he slipped into the old machine, he checked it for supplies, grateful to find some wet suits, oxygen and a few extra weapons. It was sufficient.

He supposed that batman would have frowned on this. After all, so much was at stake in the plan succeeding that he may have deemed that the risk to Tigress…Artemis…to be worthy of the ends. Batman was not heartless but he was strategic first and foremost. It made him dangerous and a master tactician. He would have pulled out all the stops to make sure the plan still succeeded, even if it involved more risks, more uncertainties and chances.

Nightwing pushed a few commands and felt the strange jolt as the sub slipped into the waters of the bay undetected. He narrowed his eyes out of the viewport, before inputting the last known coordinates of the enemy's location into his navigation equipment. Taking a breath to steady his nerves, he fired the engines and the sub made its way out into the deep unknown waters.

He was not Batman.

He had made a promise to his dearest friend, his brother.

He meant to keep it.