I'm aware it's been forever since I posted anything over here. For that, I apologize. I'm awful at cross-posting and at this point it's easier for me to post to my tumblr (museumheists) or AO3 (allshewrote). If you want more frequent/regular updates, I suggest following/subscribing over there.
—I'm not saying you couldn't take them, I'm just saying I could take them faster.
I know you think that's some sort of grand accomplishment, but you have super speed. I'd be concerned if you couldn't deal with them faster than I could. Besides, you'd do it with all the finesse of an elephant in a market—
Since when does finesse have anything to do with kicking butt?
Since we were a covert ops team, which has been, y'know—forever.
It occurs to Dick that they should maybe be a little more focused, considering the levity of this mission. A resurgence of Kobra Venom distribution was nothing to take lightly, after all.
But, then, it's Dick and Wally.
Together. On a stakeout.
A long stakeout.
With nothing to do.
Really, Dick should be thankful it's Artemis that's with them—based on the waves of irritation coming across the mental link, Superboy would have strangled them both by now. Artemis, at least, has gotten used to the two of them, in her own way.
Hey, birdbrains—
KF is ready for her, though: Robin is the only bird here, Artemis, gosh. He winks conspiratorially at Dick, sending a thrill down his spine. Keep up, would you?
Dick tries not to smile too much—Artemis is sitting right next to him, and he doesn't feel like getting an arrow to the shoulder.
Don't make me pull this car over, she replies, and this time her voice—well, whatever—betrays her amusement, if only just. Stop flirting and at least try to focus. Or did you forget this is supposed to be a stakeout?
Dick stopped listening at 'flirting,' and instead waits with bated breath for Wally's reaction to that particular word.
It's not my fault Rob is entranced by my enigmatic charm.
Ignoring the way his heart is currently doing stutter-steps, Dick replies: I'm pretty sure you have no idea what the word enigmatic means.
Oh, I forgot I was speaking with the word-meister himself.
You two are impossible.
It's what we strive for.
'We.' The word rings in Dick's head like a bell, and his struggle to keep his inner thoughts inner only grows. Usually he can get through missions without this kind of struggle, but lately it seems like Wally's teasing has taken a turn for the flirtatious. Dick doesn't know if it actually means something, or if it's Wally's hormones looking for some kind of outlet.
He's not sure he minds either way, if he's being honest; he'll take what he can get.
Artemis is beginning to formulate a response when M'gann cuts across the link from the Bioship, which is stationed outside.There's movement outside the complex, she says. I can't tell who it is, but they're huge.
I thought none of them were supposed to be on the Kobra Venom yet, Superboy responds.
Looks like they got into their gifts early, Dick says.
Regardless, Wally says, standing up straight. Looks like it's our cue to start making some noise so Beta can get in the back door. He looks straight at Dick and smirks. The light in his eyes makes Dick's heart do another skip-jump. Wally is always his most intoxicating when he's high off a mission.
Even if he is about to do something stupid—
"You wanted finesse, Bat Brat?"
—like go into a fight without a plan.
Dick should probably stop Wally, since he knows exactly what he's about to do. Maybe it's Wally's proximity, maybe it's the fact he mouth is just over his ear, and he can feel his best friend's breath ghosting over his cheek—rational thought is a struggle.
So instead of doing the logical thing (telling Wally to stay put and wait), he grins.
"Impress me, Flash Boy."
And just like that, before Artemis or anyone else can get a word in edgewise, Wally's gone: flying across the catwalk and down the stairs. Where ten seconds ago Kobra's goons had been standing idly, suddenly there's a black and red blur knocking them down left and right.
"I thought he was supposed to be showing finesse," Artemis remarks dryly.
Dick just laughs. "C'mon, we can't go let him have all the fun."
He doesn't wait for the affirmative response, firing his grappling gun at the nearest beam so he can swing down near Wally. "Doing okay there, KF?" he asks.
Hey, Aqualad, Artemis says, we may need some backup in a bit.
"Never better!" is KF's then he's gone again, whipping Dick's hair against his forehead with his speed. Idiot, he thinks to himself fondly (though it might have slipped into the mind link—he doesn't find himself too worried).
Kaldur is in the middle of responding to Artemis: —is that an urgent request, or—
We're good right now, but I don't know how long these two idiots will be able to keep everything under control.
I take offense to that! Wally says.
Would you focus on fighting so you don't get yourself killed? Artemis shoots back. Dick, I'll take the left group from up here if you take the right.
He hears rhythmic the twang of her bow, marking each time an opponent falls. Sounds good! He responds, throwing up his forearms to block an incoming blow before responding with a high kick.
Five minutes later, when it becomes clear they're still outnumbered—he's starting to question Wally's initial decision to get involved without a more clear plan than rock 'em sock 'em—he tries to follow up on their backup. How are you guys coming? he asks.
We're a little busy, Conner responds, frustration clear. We're trying to keep everything up here contained—
He's cut off by an explosion that comes from above, and suddenly there's a hole in the ceiling that didn't exist three seconds ago.
"So much for keeping it contained," Dick mutters. Everyone all right? he asks.
Mammoth just showed up, Superboy answered.
Robin hears an intake of breath from Artemis. That explains the giant thing Miss Martian saw outside, she responds. If you could keep him occupied—
Yeah, I know, Superboy answered. We're doing our—
There's another boom, followed by a clatter of metal and concrete.
Superboy! M'gann calls.
He's fine, Kaldur answers. He's dealing with Mammoth now.
Got it; we'll deal with things down here. Dick answers. He can't afford to worry about Superboy at the moment; he turns his attention to the moron that thought he could sneak up on him during the earlier chaos.
Artemis' voice comes across the link a minute later. KF, would you please watch your back, I can't keep covering for you if you're going to leave it wide open. The debris is starting to block my view of you and—
Please—I have everything under control! Wally answers.
Relax, 'Mis, Dick says, throwing out a handful of batarangs. This is nothing we haven't dealt with before!
Even if some of us lack finesse, Wally chimes in.
You're never going to let that go, are you?
You brought it up!
Hey—
There's yet another boom, followed by a loud, cascading clatter as something crashes through the ceiling, bringing debris down with him. What—
But then whatever fell through the newly-made hole stands up straight, pushing piles of concrete and metal beams to the ground as he does so.
Mammoth has joined them, apparently.
Could we get that backup, now? Dick asks.
An actual plan wouldn't be a bad idea either, Artemis remarks.
Hey, we've been doing all right up until now, Wally responds.
Wally, what are you—Wally, don't even think about going up against him on your own—
Just until you two sea slugs catch up!
Dick feels a sliver of worry hit his stomach. KF, maybe—
Have a little faith, would you?
Dick is occupied by another group of goons the next second, so his mental energy is otherwise occupied. He's just finishing up when there's another loud boom.
Not even a second later, there's a scream.
A flash of pain burns through the mental link, and Dick hears his own scream echo with the rest of the team.
KF?! It's Artemis' voice in his head, and he can still sense the pain bouncing off of her.
Dick's stomach falls to his feet. He can feel his chest rising and falling as he breathes, but something's not working, because he can't feel any air in his lungs.
KF, say something! Dick says. He's already shooting his grappling gun at the nearest beam.
I'm—I'm good, he finally responds, and with every word Wally lets in a little bit of the pain. Just—ach—ow—Dick sucks in a breath—a little stuck.
Where is he, Artemis? Dick asks, getting himself airborne for a better view of the place.
Your three o'clock, she answers. And move fast!
Wally is most definitely and firmly stuck: an entire pile of piping is lying on top of Wally's leg, tangled and with intermittent pieces of concrete mixed in. Mammoth pulls his fists—clenched together to use as a club—from the crater he made in the wall before picking up a fallen metal beam. One experimental swing is all it takes for Dick to figure out what Mammoth has in mind.
Dick swears. He gauges the distance between Mammoth and himself, then eyes the remaining beams holding up the ceiling. Choosing carefully, he begins to swing closer. C'mon, he thinks to himself. Just about… there!
His feet go exactly where he needed them: connecting directly with Mammoth's head, knocking him aside. He lands in a rough somersault: most of the impact goes to his right shoulder. He stands up, batarang in hand, but he underestimated Mammoth's speed: he's already on his feet, and knocks Dick straight into the nearest wall.
In his mind, he hears Artemis and Wally both:
ROBIN!
His vision goes black and fuzzy around the edges, and he clutches his head.
I'm okay.
That's before he tries to stand up—an attempt that lasts all of a half second.
Robin, stay down, Artemis says. You can't—
I can, he responds, and I will.
Rob, don't—
But he's already pushing himself to his feet, gritting his teeth through the pain. He takes in the situation quickly: Mammoth—thinking Robin out of the picture—is heading straight for Wally, metal beam still in hand.
There isn't any time, and with nothing left in his utility belt (Bats is going to kill him for that later), Dick is out of options.
But for one. Dick does a quick calculation. He pulls out his grappler and aims.
He fires—it meets his mark, embedding itself in a piece of debris lodged just right.
Two voices in his mind fight to be heard.
Artemis: Aqualad, we need that backup now.
And KF, because he knows exactly what Robin is planning: Robin, don't!
Dick takes a look at Wally's face, and the expression there—one of fear and guilt and pain, masked behind a layer of dirt and sweat—makes Dick falter for only a second before his resolve returns even stronger.
He can hear Batman's voice already in his head, nothing short of reproachful (and, though he'd never say, worried).
Unnecessarily endangering the mission and yourself… outright reckless decisions…
He pulls. His back screams in protest. The piece of debris he hit comes loose.
The last thing he hears is Wally calling out his name, and then the avalanche comes crashing down around him.
"… possible concussion, we'll have to wait for the MRI results." Dick sits quietly while Canary conveys his diagnosis from the notes the doctor left behind, only half-listening. "Your ribs are bruised, and there was some internal bleeding, but that's the worst of it. You're lucky Superboy got to you as quickly as he did."
The boy in question stands in the corner in the room with the rest of the team (sans Wally). Dick had been worried he'd be buried for several minutes—Conner had him out within 90 seconds. Dick meets his eyes and nods; Conner offers him the smallest of smiles in return.
"You need to stay under observation for another day, maybe two," she continues. "But ultimately you're going to be fine, if you take it easy."
"Thank you," Dick says.
Canary nods and takes her leave, sparing Dick one last look of concern before leaving Dick alone in the room with Artemis, Kaldur, Conner, and M'gann.
"We're glad you're okay," M'gann says, moving to stand at the foot of the bed. "Conner let me see the damage before he pulled you out…" she shakes her head, and Dick sees her fingers clench around the bed frame. "The doctor was right—you were lucky."
"And stupid," Conner says, frowning.
"Conner!" M'gann exclaims, elbowing him in the shoulder.
"No, he's right," Dick says, smiling sheepishly. "It wasn't the best plan, but… it was all I had. It was either that or watch Wally get hurt—and he wouldn't have been nearly as lucky as I was."
No one has a response to that.
"We'll let you rest," Kaldur finally says, and the four of them turn to head for the door.
"Kaldur," Dick calls out. The leader of their team pauses. "It wasn't Wally's fault. None of it."
Kaldur shoots Artemis a glance before he responds: "I have no interest in punishing Wally, Robin, but I have to think about the team. And Flash has to think about how he wants to train his protege."
Dick doesn't quite know what to say to that, so he nods and looks at his feet.
They move to leave again.
"Artemis?"
She stops, turning back to meet his eyes. He doesn't have to say anything else at that point; she grabs the chair at the edge of the room and tugs it to Dick's bedside. After dropping herself into the seat (up close, he can see the circles under her eyes), she puts a hand on his wrist.
"It's good to see you awake," she says.
"I was only unconscious for a few seconds at first—"
Artemis shakes her head. "I didn't know that, Dick," she says. "All I saw was you disappearing in a pile of rubble." She squeezes his wrist gently. "There aren't a whole lot of ways that can go."
Dick looks away, unable to hold her gaze even with his mask on.
"I didn't know what else to do—"
"I'm not accusing you, Dick," she says. "I get it. I can't say I wouldn't have done the same thing."
He smiles a little. "We have a death wish, don't we?" he asks.
"That was confirmed the moment we put our masks on," she answers.
They're quiet for a minute. Finally, Dick can't hold it in anymore: "Where's Wally?"
Artemis fixes him a look he isn't entirely sure he's comfortable with: tilted brow, lips curving up in a smile.
"Are you going to answer or are you just going to smile creepily at me?" he asks, meeting her eyes evenly (if he were normal, he'd fidget, he'd blush, he'd show some outward sign of how nervous her awareness makes him—but he isn't trained by Batman for nothing).
Artemis takes another moment to answer—she's gauging him, he realizes. "He's getting chewed out by Flash now," she finally answers. "Something about being 'reckless, endangering the entire mission as well as the well-being of a teammate and himself,' and so on."
Dick narrows his eyes. "What did you tell them? When we came in, I mean?"
"I told them what happened, Dick," Artemis says, rubbing a hand over her face. "I wish I could have said we had a plan that just went wrong, that we waited like we were supposed to, that it was a fluke, but—" Artemis shakes her head. "We weren't supposed to move, and Wally jumped the gun. He didn't stop to even make sure we had a plan."
"I was teasing him," Dick says. Artemis' only response is to arch a brow. Dick sighs and continues: "It wasn't Wally's fault I did what I did—I knew what I was doing, the choice I was making."
"We all know what you were doing, Dick," Artemis responds. He raises his eyes to meet hers; they're soft, to match her voice. "You were doing everything in your power to protect him. But Flash is right—he was reckless."
Dick knows he isn't going to convince her otherwise, so he moves on: "Batman?"
Artemis, bless her, knows exactly what he's asking and needs no further clarification. "Not here—he's busy with League business with Supes and Wonder Woman—lucky for Wally."
If only it were that simple. "It's not Wally I'm be worried for," Dick mutters. "Worst he'd get would be a death stare, otherwise Batman would leave Flash to deal with it. No, I'm more anticipating the talk I'm going to get about—"
"Taking a risk that endangered the mission, and you," Artemis finishes.
Dick blinked. "Something like that, yeah. You're getting entirely too good at reading him, you know that?"
"I've been around you long enough I've picked up on his… idiosyncrasies, for lack of a better word," she says, shrugging. She pauses, then: "I don't think he'd be right to criticize you for this, though."
Dick clenches his fist. "He would be right. I should have been able to figure something else out. I could have messed everything up, could have—"
"But you didn't," Artemis cuts him off. "If anyone could have managed to cover Wally's ass without screwing us all over, it was you. You have to know that. And your actions were ultimately the distraction we needed for Beta Squad to get in as easily as possible—we got the intel we were after, in the end." She's about to say something else, but she closes her mouth before the words come out.
But Dick isn't going to let it go that easily. "What aren't you saying, Artemis?"
She brings her eyes back to his. "You shouldn't be kicking yourself because you wanted to protect someone you care about." She stands, offering Dick one last smile before heading for the door. At the exit, she looks over her shoulder. "I don't care what Bats is planning on saying to you—you did the right thing. You can't tell me you disagree."
When he doesn't answer, she smiles. She opens the door and slips out, letting it click shut behind her. Dick just manages to her hear voice cut into Barry's, taking control of the conversation.
"…knowing Dick is… this being… think it's punishment enough…"
The voices fade away after a moment, indicating they've moved away.
Just as Dick is settling in to wait (Batman shouldn't be too long, he thinks to himself), the door opens.
That was fast—
But then his sight catches up with his hearing; he registers the bright red and yellow that make up a uniform that's almost more familiar to him than his own. His cowl is lowered, leaving his entire face exposed.
Dick actively avoids looking at Wally's eyes. He's not sure he could bear to see the guilt he knows is there. Even if he does risk his life everyday, he isn't a complete masochist.
He hopes he isn't, at least.
So he stares at Wally's forehead when his friend asks: "How're you feeling?"
At first, Dick doesn't say anything. Instead, he waits, because Wally is still standing in the doorway. Every part of Wally's body is rigid; his knuckles on the doorknob are white with pressure.
It's clear, then, they're both carrying a weight.
It's not often Dick worries himself over his lack of powers—usually he's just as capable and competent as the rest of the team. But now, in this moment, he's sitting here, and his best friend is acting like he's an animal that will spook if he moves too quickly, or as if Dick's something that will break if Wally doesn't tiptoe.
At this moment, he feels his normality—his delicacy—more than ever.
He's upset, and it's your fault because you're the one that's injured, because you don't have super durability or super strength, so you didn't have any other choice because you had to save him because there was any time, but it's not your fault because he's the one that ran into the fight without thinking, but you're the one that teased him, and that pushed him—
It's a horrible cycle that runs through his head on repeat. It doesn't make sense (but somehow it also does), he knows it, and yet he can't shake himself free of it. He knew, before he tugged that debris loose, that this would be the worst of the fallout—more than the physical recovery, more than any lecture Batman has in store for him. Seeing Wally right now is summoning a mixture of relief and discomfort, and Dick isn't sure how to deal with it.
There is one thing, though, that he's sure of: he's not getting any deeper into this entire situation while Wally is half-in and half-out of the room. If he's going to jump into this with both feet, so is Wally. So he waits, and he wills his friend to come closer.
That Wally doesn't seem to realize what Dick wants is worrying. Usually, they can read each other like books, even without M'gann's telepathic help. This is one of the rare occasions that Wally doesn't get Dick's signals. Or, if he does, he actively chooses not to heed them.
Dick isn't sure which is worse.
"Dick?" Wally says (it occurs to him he never responded to Wally's initial question), and he finally takes a step into the room. Then another, and another, until he finally reaches the side of the bed and takes the chair Artemis left behind. Dick thinks about answered.
Bruised ribs, possible concussion pending MRI results.
He doesn't say that, however.
"I'm hanging in there," he says (it's not a lie, it's not a lie), and now he finally turns to meets Wally's eyes. He's taken aback by what he finds: Wally is carrying enough guilt to crush them both, and for a moment Dick swears he feels it pressing on his chest the same way it must weigh on Wally's shoulders. It takes him a second to remember to breathe.
Then he remembers that he can't be anything less than unflappable—not now. If he's going to convince Wally there's nothing to worry about, there can't be any cracks.
So Dick smiles, and he hopes it reaches his eyes. "Doc says it could have been a lot worse."
It's the wrong thing to say. Wally looks away, and his eyes squeeze shut, and Dick kicks himself. "I'm such an idiot," Wally grits out.
Dick feels his hands close tight, fingers curling around the insufficient hospital blanket. "Please, Wally, don't—"
"Don't what? Blame myself?" Wally mutters. "I deserve it. I deserve all of it. It's my fault you're here."
"Last time I checked," Dick says, "I made my own decisions. You didn't take control of my body; it was my choice."
"And you're telling me you would have been injured if it wasn't for me being an idiot?"
Dick stifles the frustrated growl that's fighting its way up his throat. "I'm not playing the 'what-if' game with you, Wally. You know as well as I do there's no winner."
There's silence for several seconds—Dick feels his skin starting to itch with it.
Wally breaks it. His voice is low; Dick wonders if he's even supposed to hear. "Can't you just let me apologize? Please?"
Dick looks over at him. "Why?" He's not accusing, not leading—at least, he hopes not.
Wally meets his gaze, and Dick physically wills his heart rate to stay normal while he's still hooked up to the monitor.
"I was reckless, Dick. I made stupid decisions because—" Wally's eyes flicker off to the side before they come back. Dick's eyes narrow, because he knows Wally was going somewhere with that thought. But Wally trucks on as if it didn't happen: "I just—I was stupid and because of that you had to come save me, and now you're here."
Dick is quiet for a moment. Then: "I need you to look at me when I tell you this." At first, Wally shows no sign of responding outside of his head moving maybe an inch closer. "Wally."
Wally finally turns, and Dick opens his mouth to speak—
"Wait," Wally says. He lifts a hand—hesitates. Something in his expression shifts, and Dick realizes that the resolve he thought he saw in Wally before now—the determination to be deemed guilty—was resignation.
This, now—the light entering Wally's eyes for the first time since he walked into the room—this is resolve.
His hand moves again, and it comes to rest on Dick's face, where his mask meets his skin. Dick goes still, and has to consciously keep his breathing regular. Wally isn't wearing his gloves; Dick swears he can feel the ridges on the pads of Wally's fingers ghosting over his skin.
In a world away, he can hear the heart rate monitor beep-ing out a much faster rate than before.
"Whatever you're about to tell me," Wally says, "I want to hear it without this on. I want to hear it from Dick."
Dick is beyond coherent speech, so he nods. He lets Wally pull the mask away, and then his eyes fall shut as he feels Wally's hands work their way across his face. As the last of the mask comes away, Dick brings up one of his hands to keep Wally's hand in place, pressed against his own face.
When he opens his eyes, he has Wally's full attention—just like he wanted.
Wally nods. "Okay."
Dick gives Wally's wrist a squeeze. "If you think for even one second I won't do anything I can to keep the people I care about safe—" his breath catches. "If you think that at all, ever, then you're forgetting why I do any of this in the first place. You're forgetting what drove me to become Robin at all."
"Dick—"
"No, I want you to listen," Dick says, and now he takes Wally's other hand in his. "Even if the damage were more serious, even if you have stupid crazy-healing ability, I want you—need you to know—I don't regret what I did today. I never will. So don't ask me to forgive you for this because I can't—" He breaks off, shaking his head. "Just… please don't apologize. I don't want it. Knowing you're safe…" Dick swallows. "That's all I need, okay?"
Wally shakes his head. "You forgive too easily, Dick." He lowers his hand, though he takes Dick's with it, so their hands rest together in Dick's lap.
Dick smiles. "You can't tell me you wouldn't do the same for me."
Wally opens his mouth, a response forming, before he cuts himself off with a snort. "You know me too well," he says after another few seconds. His thumb rubs circles on the back of Dick's hand.
Dick gave up on keeping his heart rate in check a long time ago—he'll let Wally draw his own conclusions.
"I'm your best friend," Dick responds. "I'm supposed to."
"Thank you."
Dick looks up from their joined hands and into Wally's eyes. The guilt has ebbed some, leaving them softer than before.
"You don't need to thank me, Wally," Dick says. "Just—just sit here with me, would you?"
Wally smiles. "As long as you need."
written for the 2013 YJ Xmas exchange.