A/N: So I have arrived to resolve the cliffhanger I left you guys with last time. I may or may not be slightly tipsy right now lol but have no fear because I finished most of this before the alcohol arrived on the scene. We can definitely blame the title on the alcohol, though.

Chapter 4: Damn Everything

Dick made a choked noise and a shudder heaved through his body. Wally reached out to steady him.

"That's not good," he said, looking up at the Martian Manhunter, who had moved to assist M'gann. Her appearance rippled briefly—for a moment she was too tall for the chair and her skin had turned white—before she seemed to regain control and return to her usual petite, green-skinned form. Whatever was happening in their heads, it was using up enough of her concentration that she could barely control her shape.

"Richard is reacting poorly to the memory," the Martian Manhunter said. Dick's face was turning a sickly grey.

"Send me in," Wally replied, gently pushing Dick back by the shoulders so the chair could support him. "Now."

The room fell away.

The first thing Wally witnessed was M'gann's voice, high and panicked. Everything shimmered into place around him. Dick had collapsed on the… it was sometimes a floor and sometimes just white blankness. A rectangle hovered in the air nearby, only barely containing the memory of the laughing Joker beating a helpless Robin within its borders. Those borders were fading in and out; every time they vanished, the scene bled outwards and Dick writhed harder from his spot on the not-floor. His appearance was flickering; sometimes he was a little Robin again and sometimes he was just Dick. M'gann was barely more than smoke, solid enough to scream but not enough to take control of the situation. Her image grew weaker every time the surroundings pulsed and shifted.

"I'll try to calm him down," Wally called to her. Her attention shifted to him for less than a second before she focused on Dick again; she was using every ounce of power she had to stop herself from fading out completely. She wouldn't be able to help him unless he pulled Dick out of his panic.

Wally made it over to Dick without trouble. The memory broke the banks of the screen again and a terrible, maniacal laughter filled the space. Dick—Robin—jerked silently, like he'd just been hit with an invisible weapon. There was blood on his lips one second, and nothing the next. The memory was patchy, jumping back and forth and sometimes it wasn't even coherent at all.

M'gann, sweet little M'gann, actually swore as their surroundings shuddered again. "The memory's falling apart!"

"I take it that's a bad thing?" Wally shouted back. Dick's forehead was icy beneath his palm.

"If it breaks down while we're still connected, we could all end up in a coma… or worse!" M'gann's voice was fading again alongside her body. Who knew how much longer she could hold everyone together?

Wally turned his attention back to Dick, who let out a sob. Joker's laugh boomed into the space again.

"Sorry, kid. I got a little… excited." It sounded like he might be talking for a while. Good. If he was talking, he wasn't hurting Dick. Wally seized the opportunity while the Joker rambled on about his Grand Evil Plan. Why did villains always feel the need to monologue?

"Dick?" Wally tapped the younger boy's cheek. "Dick, can you hear me?" Dick groaned and turned his face away. "Dude, no. Listen to me. This is a memory. M'gann's trying to hold everything together so we don't all end up in comas, but you've got to help us out here."

Everything was shifting again. Robin's broken domino mask was phasing in and out of existence on his face.

"Dick… babe… focus on me." Wally turned Dick's head by the chin. The one eye visible through a broken mask lens was glazed over. "This isn't real, but you need to calm down." He spared a glance at the screen. Robin was staring down a bomb on a twenty-second countdown; he didn't need M'gann to tell him what could happen if the counter reached zero while Dick was still tangled up in the memory. "Shit. Okay." He managed to snake an arm beneath Dick's shoulders and pull the boy to his chest. Maybe if he got him remembering something else, and quickly… "You're okay, remember? You came home and we roasted marshmallows and sausages over a campfire and listened to the radio and I made you get up and dance with me because I dedicated an Enrique Iglesias song to you. Remember that?"

Everything around them wavered and the fabric beneath Wally's fingers softened into the hoodie Dick was wearing in reality, but the clock was still counting down.

"And then I told you I loved you and you kissed me so hard we fell over," Wally continued. "And you were so embarrassed by everything so you buried your face in my sweater."

Dick let out a sob-laugh, life coming back into his body at last, and he hid his now unmasked face against Wally's chest. "Yeah."

"That was a good night, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. It was."

Everything around them faded to white and M'gann let out a relieved sigh as she solidified again. "That was close," she said, kneeling beside the two boys. Dick was still weak and shaky in Wally's arms, but at least they were no longer at risk.

"Can you get us out of here now?" asked Wally.

"I need a minute." M'gann let out a long breath. "That took a lot more out of me than I expected."

"Sorry." Dick sat up, pushing Wally's helping hands away. Wally could see his mask of composure sliding back into place, but it wouldn't last long. Not when he was this rattled. Nevertheless, it probably wasn't a good idea to touch him again unless he showed signs that he wanted to be touched.

"You didn't get to look for indoctrination, did you?" Wally asked M'gann, who shook her head.

"Once the memory became too potent, all I could do was try not to get blown away," she replied. "We'll have to try again, once we've all recovered."

"Great," Dick muttered.

"I'm ready to take us out, if you guys are ready?"

"Go for it." Dick sounded like he wanted to lie down and go to sleep right there. Wally offered his hand, but Dick ignored it. The whiteness around them began to fade.

Dick's eyes were shut and it was going to take something momentous for him to open them. He could hear Wally's voice in his ear, but the words were unintelligible to him. His body was aching everywhere. It didn't seem to matter that he hadn't taken any real hits. They had felt real enough. God, he just wished Wally would stop talking and leave him alone.

"Dick?" M'gann's voice was in his head. Dick jerked involuntarily against the intrusion, opening his eyes at last to glare at her. "Sorry," she said aloud. "We couldn't get through to you."

Wally was hovering just in his space, but at least he wasn't trying to touch him. Dick didn't want to be touched; the very thought of having hands on him right now made him want to hit something.

"Would it be inappropriate for me to congratulate you guys on getting together right now?" M'gann asked when it became clear nobody else was going to speak.

Dick forced a smile; he thought for a moment that his face would split in half from the effort. "Uh, I guess not." Wally visibly relaxed beside him.

"I should get you home," he said. "Do you feel up to moving?"

"I'll cope." Dick batted Wally's proffered hand away and got up by himself. A wave of nausea nearly sent him reeling backwards.

"We talk about this tomorrow," Wally told M'gann as he opened the door for Dick. "You… should probably lie down, M'gann. You look a little… well, not green because that's normal for you."

M'gann smiled weakly at him. "I know what you mean. Go take care of Dick and stop worrying about me."

"As long as you take care of yourself," Wally said, ushering Dick out the door.

"I can get home fine by myself," Dick said irritably; something about what M'gann had said rubbed him the wrong way. He was capable of taking care of himself, damn it.

"I'm sure you can," Wally said diplomatically as they started back toward the main chamber. "But it wouldn't be very responsible of me to leave you alone when you're feeling crappy, would it?"

"I guess not," Dick grumbled. They reached the main chamber and he keyed in their destination and passcode into the zeta tube's computer. It took him three tries because his hands wouldn't stop shaking. Damn security measures. Damn hands. Damn everything.

They rematerialized in the Batcave, where Dick would've fallen flat on his face if Wally hadn't caught him. "Gotcha!"

"Thanks," Dick muttered, annoyed that Wally had to catch him in the first place.

Wally was still holding him. "What did you want to do? I could find Alfred if you wanted some tea or something to eat."

Dick shook his head and started for the gym area of the cave. Better to take out his newly-returned rage and frustration on a punching bag rather than a human, no matter how quickly that human may heal from it. Wally followed him silently, watching from a respectful distance as Dick threw off his hoodie and wrapped his hands. The last thing he needed right now was to cause himself an injury because he was in too shitty a mood to pull his punches. He was wearing a singlet and sweatpants today so he didn't need to worry about changing clothes, thank God. He didn't think he had the patience for that.

Bruce appeared seemingly out of nowhere, which made Wally let out a yelp. He passed a pair of training gloves to Dick before leaving the room again. Dick had been too distracted to notice his approach. Sloppy.

"Where did he even come from?" Wally whimpered. Dick almost smiled as he pulled on the gloves. Almost.

The first punch to the bag shook loose the tightness of his insides. He let out a long breath.

"You tell that bag, babe." Wally was sitting on a bench by the wall, next to a water bottle Bruce had probably put there without anybody noticing. Dick made a face at him, then lowered himself into a proper fighting stance and threw another punch. And another.

Dick's concentration finally returned to him and he sharpened his focus to a fine point, with nothing but him and the punching bag and his fists. It was all too easy to imagine the punching bag as every single bastard that had taken a shot at him, the Joker chief among them. He hit the bag so hard that it swung back and smacked him in the stomach, but he just kicked it away again.

"You okay?" Wally asked him.

"Fucking peachy." Dick roundhouse kicked the damn thing because screw this bag screw the Joker screw everything. He was tired of being fate's personal punching bag. Even when he tried to do the right thing, it just blew up in his face. God damn it.

Dick slammed his fist into the bag one last time before he stumbled away and fell flat on his face like a freaking toddler. Wally was at his side in an instant.

"You haven't been sleeping again," he said quietly, helping the younger boy to the bench and passing him the water bottle.

Dick tugged off his gloves and took a long sip of water to avoid answering. All that enraged energy had just… left him. He was back to wanting to curl up and go to sleep. Wally offered a hand to help him up. Dick contemplated ignoring it, but eventually decided he could use the help. Wally kept holding on as they exited the cave for the manor proper. Dick didn't feel up to having a shower, so he unwrapped his hands, freshened up with a washcloth in the bathroom and put on a change of clothes before returning to Wally, who was waiting in Dick's adjacent room. With his homework.

"I forgot I left it in your room at Mount Justice," he said, smiling sheepishly.

"Do you need to get home?"

"Not really. I can stay if you need me."

Dick groaned and fell facefirst onto his bed. Fingers combed through his hair.

"I'm gonna take that as a yes."

Dick turned his head to watch Wally kick off his shoes and lie down beside him. The older boy planted a kiss on his forehead and Dick wriggled close enough to grab his arms and put them around him. Wally gathered him up to his chest without any further prompting. Dick wasted no time getting himself all tangled up in his boyfriend's legs and settling down to rest.

"Love you," Wally whispered, giving him a good, long squeeze. Dick let himself deflate, trusting Wally to take care of him while he slept.

He woke some time later to darkness. A vaguely human shape loomed nearby. Dick lay very still, ready to grab them if they tried anything.

"It's me," Bruce said, turning on the bedside lamp. Dick almost sighed with relief. He was too twitchy these days.

"Where's Wally?" he asked groggily, rubbing his eyes.

"Eating dinner. He wanted to let you sleep a little longer."

"That's nice of him." Dick frowned at the blanket that was lying on top of him. When did that get there?

"Alfred," Bruce said by way of explanation.

"Of course."

Bruce sat on the end of the bed. "Wally told me Miss Martian wasn't able to determine whether the Light indoctrinated you."

"She didn't get a chance before I flipped out," Dick grumbled. The memory of what happened in the mind link sat unshakeably heavy in the pit of his stomach. "Wally had to go in there and calm me down before I ended up putting us in a coma or something."

"That's unfortunate."

"You're not going to say 'I told you so'?"

"No. I understand the necessity of ensuring your mind hasn't been tampered with. Any concerns I had were purely for your well-being." Bruce hadn't been especially vocal about his concerns when Dick had mentioned the possibility of a Martian mind-reading, but his displeasure had been clear enough.

"We'll have to try it again," Dick said, as utterly exciting as the idea was to him. "Preferably when M'gann isn't drained and I'm not off swimming in the deep end."

"You have a session with Dinah tomorrow. Talk to her about it."

Dick groaned and buried his face in the pillow. Bruce chuckled.

"Come on, Dick. You should eat."

Dick grumbled incoherently into the pillow, until Bruce pulled it out from beneath him. "Bruuuuuuuce!"

"Up."

"You're a bad person," Dick complained, rolling out of bed.

"So I've been told." Bruce threw a pair of shoes in Dick's direction. "Hurry up."

Dick grumbled some more as he put them on. "I'm not even hungry."

"You missed lunch. You're not skipping dinner." Bruce's voice was halfway to Batman, which left no room for argument.

Dick huffed and headed for the door. Bruce reached out as he passed, resting his hand on the boy's head. Dick froze, tense for a moment, before he forced himself to relax again. Physical affection from Bruce was like… sunshine. It was easy enough for Dick to lock himself away and try to get by without it. Hell, there were times when he felt like self-isolation was the only way to survive his darker moments. But all it took was one slip—a sliver of golden light through the curtains, a single touch—to realise how much he missed it.

And to think it was only a few hours ago that Dick couldn't stand to have anybody touch him.

He was seconds away from falling to pieces again. Bruce ran his hand through the boy's hair and down his neck to rest between the shoulder blades, pulling him into a proper embrace. He remained silent as Dick breathed in shallow gasps of air, grabbing fistfuls of the man's shirt to keep himself present. The memories were razor-sharp and overbright. They were going to shred him to little pieces and burn out his eyes if he let them. He couldn't let them.

Bruce held him tighter, as if he could hold Dick together through brute strength alone. It helped.

Eventually, enough time passed that Alfred came to check on them. "Is everything all right?" he asked. Dick burrowed into the relative privacy of Bruce's shirt, heat rising in his face. It was bad enough that he'd fallen apart in front of Bruce, let alone Alfred.

"Could you bring Dick something to eat?" Bruce responded. "He's not up to coming down for dinner."

"Certainly, sir. Shall I inform Master Wally?"

"That's… probably a good idea."

"Right away, sir."

Bruce set Dick down on the edge of the bed, keeping a hand on his back to ground him. "What do you need? What can I do?"

Dick hunched over with his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees—his hands were shaking too much to support anything themselves. He wasn't ready to speak yet. Bruce, thank God, didn't push him for a response.

Alfred showed up with a tray of food, and Wally. "The bat signal has been lit, sir. Master Jason is already preparing to leave."

Bruce grunted in annoyance. "Dick—"

Dick sat up at last. "It's okay," he said tiredly.

"I'll take care of him," Wally promised. Bruce fixed him with a glare that said you'd better.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he said, standing up.

"Don't bother," Dick replied. "I'll be asleep when you get back anyway." Bruce gave his shoulder a hard squeeze before he left.

Alfred set the dinner tray on the bedside table. "Do try to finish your meal, Master Dick, for the sake of your health."

Dick laughed weakly, his voice tipping upwards into hysteria.

Wally was by his side in an instant, clutching one of the younger boy's hands to his chest. "Hey, take a deep breath, okay?" Alfred passed Wally a glass of water. "Here, drink this."

It took all of Dick's concentration, and both hands, not to spill the whole damn thing all over himself. Draining half the glass in one go made him feel marginally better. Wally, no longer having access to his boyfriend's hands, started rubbing his back instead.

"Did that help?"

"A little." Dick set the glass aside and accepted the tray from Alfred, who hadn't made a single comment about the impropriety of taking a meal on the bed. Dick must've looked even worse than he felt. Alfred left him in Wally's care and left, most likely to check on Batman and Robin's progress.

Alfred had been considerate with the amount of food he provided—a small bowl of spaghetti and a side of salad. Even that was probably too much for Dick to stomach, but he gave it a good try. Wally cuddled up to his side and kissed his temple every so often as encouragement. The last few bites were difficult, but he managed to finish.

"Well done, babe," Wally said, just before he decided it was a good idea to blow a raspberry into Dick's neck. Dick came perilously close to dropping the tray.

"Wally."

"Shh. You need more cuddles."

"You make a compelling argument." Dick placed the tray on the bedside table and climbed onto the bed proper. Wally tackled him onto the pillows, laughing evilly all the while. Dick twined his legs around the older boy's waist and used that as leverage to flip them both over.

"Did Alfred lace that spaghetti with caffeine or something? Not that I'm complaining…"

"Oh, hush." Dick wriggled into a more comfortable position, pillowing his head on Wally's chest. Wally wrapped his arms around him and gave him a good squeeze.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked softly. Dick hummed in response. "I'll take that as a yes. God, you had me worried."

Dick jabbed him in the ribs. "Less talk, more cuddling."