haunt-the-stars asked: if it wouldnt screw w the tact series i'd love to see Finally Coming Home from wally's pov
"Nightwing?" Wally called after he tied up the unconscious man that had just been holding a gun—a gun—to Dick's forehead. He kneeled down by Dick slowly, watching as his friend (was that what they still were anymore? He hopes so. That was what he'd come here to find out, after all. If he still had Dick as a best friend, or not), as Dick fell to pieces.
Dick was crying, his breath hitching and speeding up as his face scrunched up in some wasted effort not to cry. It broke Wally's heart to see.
"Hey, hey," Wally tried to soothe, but it didn't seem to work, because Dick didn't calm down in the least. If anything, his breathing got faster. Wally tried again, because this was Dick. And even if it wasn't, this was someone in need, and it was Wally's job to help—in or out of costume. "Hey, you're okay, 'Wing. Just, uh, take a deep breath. In, then out, yeah?"
Dick was staring at him, and he wasn't calming down, and Wally didn't know what else to do. Once upon a time, before things got complicated—before Kaldur faked defection, before Dick became the leader of the Team, before Wally and Artemis had quit, before Tim became Robin, before Jason died, before Wally and Dick grew up—back then, Wally wouldn't have hesitated to try to calm his best friend down the only way he knew.
But now? Now, his hands were hovering hesitantly over Dick's face, and he couldn't make himself press them to Dick's cheeks, to try and ground Dick in this time and space. And he didn't know why. He wouldn't have hesitated to lighten the mood, to make sure that Dick felt safe. But that was before, and now Wally wasn't even sure if Dick still felt safe with Wally around.
He couldn't make himself pretend that things were normal. That wouldn't fix things. And for all Wally knew, it would just make Dick's panic attack worse.
But he could talk to Dick. Talking was something that Wally never failed at.
"Dick," Wally said, peeling off Dick's mask so he could see those blue eyes. They weren't blank, but they were distant. Like there was muted pain there, and Wally's heart constricted again. "Dick, look at me. I need you to look at me, okay?" Dick's eyes didn't move, so Wally moved on. "Listen to my voice. You're okay, alright? You're fine. Just, just, uh, goddammit, I need you to breathe, Dick!"
And just as Wally spoke those words out loud, Dick stopped breathing. Wally's own breath stuttered to a stop in surprise, because, with Dick's distant eyes and the lack of breath, it looked like—it looked like Dick was—
"Dick?" Wally whispered, his trembling fingers finally falling to Dick's jaw, not being able to help himself as he cupped his best friend's face. Wally's brain had screeched to a halt, and there's something in him that almost believed that he really hadn't made it on time. Was there some injury that he'd missed? Wally had sworn that he'd gotten there before the gun went off, but Wally should have looked for something. Maybe Dick had been bleeding out and Wally had just sat there and contemplated whether or not he should touch Dick's face. "Dick, stay with me."
Dick let his breath out, and Wally's heart restarted along with it. Dick was okay. Dick was alright.
"Why," Dick said, the word barely audible, but Wally froze at the sound. It was the first time Dick had spoken since Wally had gotten here, and Wally hated that it wasn't confirmation that he was okay, or anybody's name. It was a question. It was rage and anger, and all of it was aimed at Wally. Dick's face crumpled. "WHY!"
Wally flinched back involuntarily. This was the moment he'd been dreading since coming here. Maybe if he could just explain himself. "Dick—"
"Why, Wally?" Dick sobbed. "Why did you think I wasn't doing everything I could possibly do to make sure everyone came out alive?!"
"Dick," Wally pleaded, because they were in an alleyway where anybody could hear. And most importantly, Dick was having a panic attack. "Please don't, Dick. Not right now."
"I tried," Dick told him desperately, his hands scrabbling for Wally's arms. He found them and gripped tight, and Wally tried not to wince. Dick wasn't listening. He was too far inside his panic attack. Inside his own head. "I tried so hard to keep everyone safe. I tried. And it wasn't enough." Dick choked, but kept going. Wally kept his mouth shut. "Jason died, Wally, and I thought that was the worst of it. And then I had to send Kaldur undercover like it wasn't the hardest fucking thing I'd ever done!
"And you know what?" Dick asked, and Wally closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see Dick's scared, angry, betrayed expression anymore. It was agonizing enough just to listen to the words. "I agonized over it every single day. I wanted to tell someone, anyone, what I had done, but I didn't know how! I didn't know how to admit that I was slowly dying inside because I had just sent on of my best friends on a suicide mission.
"I didn't know who else to go to," Dick cried, his shoulders shaking. "So I went to you, even though you and Artemis had quit the team. I went to you thinking you would support me. And thank god you did, but then I had to get Artemis involved. I had to, Wally. There was no way I couldn't. Kaldur needed help, and I couldn't do it without compromising everything Kaldur had worked for, no matter how much I wanted to.
"And then Mount Justice blew up, and I was alone. I was completely alone," Dick told him, squeezing Wally's arms harder. Wally winced again, but he couldn't pull away. Not when he deserved this so much. Not when he hadn't realized how much Dick had been going through while Wally had been complaining about not being with Artemis.
Wally hated this. That he'd basically abandoned his friend to the weight of responsibility. Instead of leading Dick out of the darkness that he'd wanted to escape from so much when they were younger, instead of shouldering that weight with him, Wally had left Dick to fend for himself.
He'd doomed Dick. Dick didn't want to turn out like Batman, but like Dick had said all those weeks ago, he hadn't had any choice. Dick hadn't had any support, someone to tell him that he shouldn't do everything alone, and that was on Wally.
Dick continued, stabbing Wally exactly where Wally was stabbing himself, "There was no one else to go to, Wally! You turned your back on me, and I was already drowning. I was the goddamn Batman, patrolling Gotham and then turning around and patrolling Blüdhaven, and keeping tabs on Kaldur and Artemis and the Light and the Reach, and then doing damage control for the Justice League with the public, and running the team."
And outside of all that, Dick had been trying to go to college, too. He'd been trying to get into the police academy and taking a few online classes, and Wally had heard from Bart the other week that Tim said that those things had been the first things Dick had dropped.
Knowing Dick, he'd probably thought they hadn't meant anything at the moment. Not when the world came first. But Wally had prioritized college and a civilian life over saving the world. Over Dick. And he knew that it probably hadn't gone over well when Wally had yelled at him all those months ago. Dick had been making his own personal sacrifices, too, and Wally was such an idiot for not realizing that. For not trying to understand that Dick had been doing what he believed was right while putting it all on his own shoulders. Bringing as few people into this as possible.
"It was so much, Wally," Dick sobbed, and Wally's heart shattered into a million pieces for Dick. This was someone he loved dearly. His best friend. And Wally had just walked away. He couldn't be sorrier for that, but Dick's next words kicked Wally right in the gut. "It was so much, and I was all alone."
Wally didn't know what to say to that, because it was all true. This wasn't something Wally could just say, "I'm sorry" for and move on. He'd probably have to get on his hands and knees and beg Dick for forgiveness, and Dick would probably still reach down and pull him to his feet and—he probably wouldn't forgive Wally, but he would give Wally another chance. And that was more than Wally deserved.
"Say something!" Dick yelled, before his voice yelled to a whisper. "Please. Just say something, Wally."
But he couldn't. He didn't know how. So, he reached down and pulled his best friend—yes, Dick was and always would be, his best friend, no matter what—into his arms. Into a hug. And Dick buried his head into Wally's shoulder and he cried. And he cried and cried, and Wally thought that maybe he should have a talk with everybody else about just how much they all messed up.