Teen Titans: Be Gentle With Me
Author's Note: So, this is the chapter that defined the whole story. When I first fell in love with Wally/Dick as a pairing, this story was simply going to be a little smutty fluff-fest. But then one day, on the insistence of my gay friend, Ryan, I spent two quiet, lonely hours at work doing dishes while listening to the entire soundtrack of this off-Broadway musical, Bare, which is about two gay boys in a Catholic school… and that twisted this story forever. If you're familiar with the musical, you might guess what's about to happen…. Welp, anyways, enjoy! I hope this chapter is everything I want it to be for you…
Chapter 10: Switch Myself Off
I just can't switch myself off
When I want to, so I never do
Because I'm mental, be gentle, be gentle…
"…you really think it's him…?"
"…look at the mask….I'd know that fuckin face anywhere…"
"…check out his back…"
"…Slade… well I'll be goddamned…"
"…s'bout time someone fucked him down…fucking piece of shit Titan…."
Voices. He didn't recognize them. They seemed to cross a large distance to reach him. They were deep, gruff, terrible.
"You seriously gonna do that?"
"We've struck gold, man. Once everyone finds out about this, we don't gotta worry about the Titans no more."
"Well, hurry up, man, and take it. If we're caught here, someone'll think we did it."
The voices were getting closer. It was becoming clear that they were right beside him, talking about him. Slowly, other senses were coming back. He could feel the hard surface of asphalt beneath him, the bite of cold night air against his skin, the pain aching through his body. He could smell the stink of garbage, like the inside of a dumpster.
And those voices….
Where the hell was he…? What happened? All he remembered was….
A flash of light burned red through his eyelids. A laugh choked the air from one of the men standing over him. A low murmur rose, "Do it, man. Send it."
A flash of light…? From where…? Send what…?
The cold air against his naked body.
And then, it clicked, and his eyes snapped open, taking in the group of tough guys looming above him. Red clothes and doo rags. One clutching a camera phone in his dark hand.
No…
He was moving before the gang members even realized he was awake. A foot struck one man's groin, an elbow slamming into his face. He crumpled. A bare hand struck out, snatching another thug by the hem of his oversized shirt, twisting it over his head so it came right off. In one fluid motion, he threw it on over his naked body and slammed the butt of his hand into the man's stunned expression, shattering his nose with a spurt of blood.
"Shit!" someone shouted, before the young hero took him down, too, practically stepping on the man's head to bury it into the gravel, a fierce grimace on his face as he pressed down harder.
It'd all happened in the span of about five seconds. Not enough time for the last man to run for it. Robin turned to face him, glancing down at the cell phone clutched stupidly in his dirty hand. A rush of pure hatred and disgust filled him as he charged the man down, slamming him into the wall with a sickening crunch, forcing the cell phone out of his hand.
"What did you do?" Robin found himself growling. Only one second of silence passed before Robin found himself furiously twisting the man's arm even harder, eliciting a wonderful snap that made the thug scream. Robin barely blinked, leaning in and snarling "Where did you send it?"
The man curled up into himself, his dirty-colored face twisted in pain. He was shaking under Robin's grip, his mouth stretched back as though fighting not to scream again. Robin leaned closer, eyes wild and dangerous, yet the rest of his body looking like a child in a nightgown, the enormous red t-shirt falling to his knees. "Talk!"
Finally, the man lifted his head, a strange, almost grinning expression on his pain-filled face. "It's too late, Birdy Boy. The picture is sent. My buddy is gonna put it online and the whole world is gonna know what happened to your skinny ass!" He grinned more maliciously at the boy's horrified gaping stare. "I can think of a few of my buddies in lockup who would just love to beat their meat to that snapshot-"
Revulsion and disgust tore his stomach. His mind went blank, face breaking into a terrible grimace. One hand was moving on its own accord, jamming the cell phone into the man's mouth, shutting him up mid-sentence with a strangled cry. The other hand swung, fingers curling into his palm, executing a perfect uppercut into the man's chin. Teeth and technology shattered. Blood splattered. A strange, choked sound slipped out of the gangster's throat as he tilted sideways to the ground, where he lay perfectly still. Shards of plastic and microchip sputtered from his bloody mouth. Battery acid bubbled quietly on the corner of his lips.
And then, everything fell still. Quiet. Time itself seemed to slow to an unbearable crawl as Robin slowly got to his feet. His unsteady legs staggered a few steps back, allowing him a better view of the figures sprawled on the ground around him. Unmoving. Not making a sound.
All he could do was stand there, staring, panting. His stolen t-shirt hung to his bare knees, hiding his thin, shaking form from the world. He grew aware of the blood sticking to his legs, of the aches and pains erupting throughout his body. The sour, familiar taste of Slade lingering on his lips…
He fell against the brick wall of the alley with a strangled moan. His shaking doubled as everything seemed to crash upon him, a hand clapping to his face. His bare palm felt the smooth texture of his mask against its skin. He paused, fingertips silently following the mask's silky surface, feeling around its edges. Suddenly, he dug his fingernails between material and skin, peeling the mask violently away with a small yelp. Wincing, he staggered forward, and with a strangled growl, he hurled the wretched thing into the nearby dumpster with all the strength he had, as though he wanted it to shatter when it struck the bottom.
Finished with that he fell still, staring at the side of the dumpster with unshielded eyes, and somehow felt more naked than he had when he'd first come to. His body was persistent with its shaking. His breathing came and went in sharp gasps. He felt sick to his stomach. He felt dizzy. He felt unbearably alone. Naked eyes glanced down at his trembling hands. They were covered in the blood of the thugs lying unnaturally still around him. He absentmindedly licked his lips. They still tasted like Slade.
A strange sob leapt from his lungs, coming out more like a hiccup or a gasp of pain. But he wasn't crying. He couldn't. He wanted to, as though that would somehow make everything better, but his eyes were completely dry. He fell weakly sideways against the dumpster, pressing his cheek upon its cool, rank surface, staring at the fallen men around him.
None of the gang members lying there made any movements or sounds. He watched with a vacant look, as though waiting for one of them to stand up suddenly and gun him down where he stood. He wouldn't have stopped them. But it wasn't going to happen. They were all out cold. After a moment, with little if any thought, he found himself stepping forward, picking the thinnest of the group and stripping his jean shorts from him, pulling them onto himself. Keys and change jangled in the oversized pockets as he buttoned them, and he reached into their depths, pulling free what he didn't need and hurling them to the ground. Receipts, keys, a cigarette lighter, a cell phone… a wad of cash… and a plastic bag, full of loose white pills.
He held onto the last two items, staring at them with little surprise. A drug dealer, huh? Well, that was something. He should probably turn it in… He swallowed hard and shoved the bag and the money back into his pockets, then stepped away, barefooted, out into the world, not even casting a passing glance at the collapsed men, only praying with his stomach twisting violently that they would make it through the night…
The street around him was mostly deserted. A few women stood at a nearby corner, their scant clothing and tall heels revealing their purpose for being there. No doubt they'd heard the disturbance, but they knew better than to get involved. Pretty much everyone on this side of town knew better than to get involved. But their mascaraed eyes still followed him with clear curiosity as he walked past, his hands jammed into his pockets, feeling the contents of them with his fingertips. He winced a little with each footfall, his limp hair swaying in his eyesight.
An engine caught his attention. He glanced up and felt a rush of horror as a familiar set of headlights drove toward him.
The T-Car.
He felt frozen, just like a deer would be in the same situation. He watched the lights grow closer, his stomach wrenching even more viciously beneath his baggy shirt.
But, incredulously, the car barely slowed as it passed. Cyborg's eyes met his, but there was no flash of recognition in his face. Just a mild interest, the same anyone would have upon seeing a teenaged boy wearing clothes like these out in the middle of the night on the bad side of town. The casual interest of one saddened by a life clearly misspent. Any other night on patrol, Cyborg probably would have stopped to ask him what he was doing out alone past curfew (Was it past curfew? He couldn't tell). But the older Titan was clearly distracted, turning to the communication center in his dashboard just as he passed.
Robin watched the tail lights numbly. Cyborg hadn't recognized him. They were supposedly best friends, yet without his mask… he had absolutely no idea who he was… Robin felt his chest tighten as the car rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.
No one knew who he was… who he really was… His teammates – the people he'd spent the better part of two years fighting alongside – knew nothing about him. About his life. About his very face.
But it wasn't their fault… it was his… he was the one that had held them away at arm's length. He'd never wanted them to know. Never wanted to let that shield down.
Maybe all that was why all of this had to happen to him… maybe he deserved it…
Without even really realizing it, he was walking away, his footsteps quickening beneath him. He broke into a jog, then to a run, cautiously leaping over broken beer bottles and gaps in the sidewalk with his bare feet. He passed more gaggles of gang members, some shouting after him as he passed, but he didn't pay attention. He just kept going, rounding a corner. His breathing burned in his chest. His body screamed as every ache flared into searing pain. But he kept going. What if Cyborg realized it was him? What if he turned around to find him?
He didn't deserve to be found. Not by them. Not by anyone.
Blocks of dilapidated buildings moved passed him at an agonizingly slow pace. Rocks and glass he hadn't noticed ripped apart his feet, but he kept going. He lost track of the streets and turns, lost himself in the city he knew so well. After what seemed like a long time, he finally staggered to a halt, fighting to breathe, sweat glistening on his forehead as he bent double in the middle of a different street. An old, beat-up car staggered past, its engine backfiring and subwoofers kicking. It passed without slowling, turning down a sidestreet, abandoning him to a purely empty block.
As his eyes took in the nearby street signs, he quickly realized he hadn't made it very far at all. A mile or so, at the furthest. A rush of frustration tore through him, and he slammed his fist into a nearby wall with a raspy cry.
It didn't matter how fast or how far he ran… he'd never get away…
If only he were Wally…
That thought laced itself around his chest, and squeezed. He stared at his ragged feet, frowning to himself. Wally… of all the people to think about…
His eyes wandered. They roamed around the city street, taking in everything without much thought. After a moment, he realized his attention had caught on something. A phonebooth. So rare in this city, yet here one was, as though placed there just so he could stumble across it. Plexiglass panels tagged with spraypaint, a wire hanging where a phonebook should be. Robin swallowed hard, then limped towards it, heaving the rusted door open with some difficulty, then closing it behind him, leaning against the wall with his head pressed to the window. He was still struggling for breath, and again felt like he wanted to cry, yet couldn't. Frustratingly couldn't. A sound distracted him, and he turned his focus to the telephone. It hung slightly off its hook, beeping endlessly. He wondered how long it'd done that for, in this age of cell phones. Weeks? Months? How long since anyone had used this phone? He reached out and clutched the receiver, twisting it and letting it fall in place on the hook. The world plunged into a deathly, overwhelming silence. His shuddering hand lingered on the smooth surface of the handset, before tensing and picking it up again. The silence was replaced by the antiquated sound of a dial tone. It hummed through the air like a song.
Robin just stared at it, grimly. A random idea snuck into his mind, and rooted itself deeply, refusing to leave. A knot formed in his stomach, and he could hear his heart pounding in his ears.
No… he couldn't... shouldn't… He didn't deserve to be found. Not by anyone.
But his hand was already digging in his pockets, sifting through the loose change nearly out of reach, as baggy as the pants were. Quarters scraped through the coin slot, and hesitant fingers dialed three buttons.
"Information," said a bored voice on the other end. Robin pulled the receiver to his ear, staring at the twisted phone cord with that lump in his throat.
"I'm looking for a phone number… mobile phone… Keystone City… …Wallace West…"
"Please hold."
He nodded unnecessarily. He placed his other shaking hand into his pocket, his fingers grazing the thin plastic of the sandwich bag inside. After a moments rummaging, he realized the bag wasn't sealed, and he closed his hands around a few of the tiny white tablets inside, pulling his hand out and staring down at them, all while he waited, his heart pounding painfully fast.
"Okay, sir. I have the number for you—"
"I don't have any paper… Could you patch me through…?" he murmured weakly.
"Sure. Thank you for dialing information."
She was gone, and a dull ringing pierced his ear. Anxiety clutched him like a vice, and he leaned against the wall of the phone booth, rolling the little pills between his fingers absentmindedly.
"Hello?"
Robin lost his breath. He stared out through the tagged plexiglass, unable to speak. He pulled the receiver from his ear and held it over the hook, but couldn't hang it up. He wavered, switching between putting the handset back to his ear and hanging it on the hook. Wally's voice spoke up again, a little less bored sounding, a little more persistent. "Hello?"
"Wally…" he finally murmured into the receiver, clenching his eyes shut and grasping the receiver with both hands. "It's me."
Silence. For a moment, he wondered if he ran out of time on the payphone. "Hey…" Wally finally spoke up, a hint of disbelief to his young voice. "Um… what… what's up?"
"Can you meet me?" Robin couldn't even believe his own words, his eyes falling closed. "In like thirty minutes, can you meet me?"
"Um, yeah… of course. I, um… why?-I mean, where?"
He sounded so flustered. Robin's lips twitched like he wanted to smile at that. His naked eyes glanced out into the city beyond his phone booth, at the lights of the nearby skyscrapers. He could make out the letters that spelled out "WAYNE" on one of the taller ones.
"Corner of 4th and Main. Number 1634… it's my favorite spot in the city…" He mentally kicked himself. Why the hell was he saying that? He licked his lips and grimaced at the taste. "Thirty minutes. And… and civilian clothes."
"Okay." Silence again on the other line. "Robin, is somethi—"
But the Titan was already hanging up the line. Coins chunked through the machine, chiming against one another as they appeared in the slot in the bottom of the payphone. He stared at them dully, then turned away, back out into the city. He froze a moment just beyond the door to the phonebooth, before bringing his hand up and swallowing the pills he'd been playing with the whole time.
What did anyone care? It wasn't like anything really mattered anymore, anyway…
He made his way with hurried steps to a busy intersection nearby. Somehow, he managed to hail down a taxi as it rattled past and clumsily got into the backseat, where the elderly driver eyed him suspiciously through the rearview mirror.
"Aren't you a little young to be out this late?"
"Step-dad's an ass," Robin mumbled simply, pulling out the largest bill he could find in his spoils and flashing it for the cab driver to see. The saggy eyes in the mirror widened to their full extent.
"Okay, pal. Where we headed, then?"
The car lurched forward as Robin told the driver his instructions, then settled into his seat, his head propped against the door. He gazed through the window numbly. The thick trunk of a lonely tree passed as a plur, and his stomach wrenched and twisted with sickness. He screwed his eyes tight, but the shape of the tree lingered in his mind's eye. In his hand, he absentmindedly played with another small, smooth little tablet from his pocket. It was gone before the trip was over.
This wasn't supposed to happen again.
Raven stood in the empty command center, leaning against the computer console, the enormous computer screen before her a jumble of various windows of information. Continuously updated police reports, security cameras, her teammates faces from their communicators as they checked in with what news they had, which typically was none at all.
She couldn't help but feel guilt, feel some amount of blame. She had known how jumbled up Robin had been inside, known how unlike himself he'd been acting. She should have seen this coming – and on some levels, she had. But she hadn't done her share to prevent it. Hadn't done anything. Hadn't even really noticed until it was too late and Robin had run out to do something stupid.
Her violet eyes scanned the screen as she fought to bury those feelings. There was nothing that could be done about the past. All that was important now was tracking down where he'd gone. What had happened. But what little information she had found only served to paint a very disastrous picture.
According to security within the Tower, Robin had snuck out nearly six hours earlier. Six hours. Plenty of time for the worst to happen. Cyborg had gone immediately to the warehouse, where he'd found the cameras dismantled by birdarangs. They'd tried finding Robin's locator signal, but had found out that its transmission along with his communicator had been interfered with. There was no way of figuring out where he'd ended up. Cyborg tried to figure it out through the cables in the cameras, but ended up electrocuted.
Come on, she thought desperately, eyes scanning the screen so intensely that she was surprised a hole didn't burn through it. I need something… anything…
Suddenly, a special report sprang up, direct from the police department. Raven let her fingers fly over the keys on their own, typing commands and codes.
A picture leapt to the screen, and she wheeled back with a gasp. Her heart froze in her chest, and her lungs lost every ounce of breath they had.
"No…" Her eyes widened at the thin, bloody figure sprawled on the screen. That familiar face, slackened with unconsciousness. Bare, exposed body covered in new bruises and blood. Lying in what appeared to be an alleyway, looking close to death… if he wasn't already…
She forced her attention away from the terrible site, looking instead at the report that had accompanied it. Further horror clutched her. According to it, the picture was spreading through the internet like a virus.
This wasn't good. This was not good. She knew what this meant. This was no longer personal. It was public. Horribly and completely public.
Robin was now in terrible danger, in more ways than one. At this rate, if they found Robin alive, it was unlikely Robin could keep being Robin anymore… not with everyone knowing about this…
She swallowed hard and grappled for the microphone, her voice laced with concern as she spoke up to the other Titans.
"I… just got something. …and it isn't good… it really isn't good… We have to find him."
The streets had begun to grow quiet. The bars were closing, patrons staggering into the chilly night air, laughing, shouting, stumbling, puking. Conversations entwined with one another, voices murmuring about what to do now, whether or not to head to Justin's house and play Rock Band, whether or not to seek out IHOP and have some crepes, whether or not to go back to her place and see what happens.
No one paid much mind to the small gust of wind that breezed past, ruffling hair and skirts, making those without coats shiver a little and regret their decisions. No one noticed that there was suddenly a lanky, red-headed teenager walking down the road as though he'd always been there, pausing by a bus stop and looking around at the buildings. He glanced at the little clusters of people wandering around, then suddenly vanished again, so quickly that if anyone had noticed, they would've decided that maybe they'd had one shot of Jaeger too many.
Wally reemerged along an abandoned side street. He walked along with carefully paced steps, glancing around at the darkened storefronts and restaurants on either side of him, then up at the rows of windows above. A light shone here or there, some night owl still awake in their condo, or maybe someone had forgotten to turn a light off before heading to bed. He craned his head back further. Enormous skyscrapers stretched to the sky behind the row of buildings before him, like displeased teachers leaning over, preparing to scold cheating students
His eyes fell again, glancing around at the building facades, searching for the glint of metal numbers in the dim lighting of the street lamps.
Corner of Broadway and Main… 1634… civilian clothes…
He shifted uncomfortably in said civilian clothes – a pair of jeans a size or two too big, held in place with a belt. A sweatshirt zipped protectively as high as it could go. His converse sneakers matched his hair, and both made him feel like a beacon in the otherwise black night, a target that could be easily taken down.
He glanced at his watch impatiently, then looked back up, searching once again for those elusive building numbers. The street lamps helped little – they seemed more spread apart and dimmer than streetlamps were supposed to be. He fought to make out the numbers above the doors as he walked along at a normal man's pace.
1654… 1648… 1640…
1634…
He stood before the building. A "For Lease" sign hung in the vacant storefront. Rows of windows stretched up high, and he tried to count the number of floors, but the feat hurt his neck. But really, there was absolutely nothing remarkable about this particular building.
Why here…? And where here?
He cupped his hand and peeked into the store window, to find it predictably empty, then glanced at the door that led to tenements above and found that it was slightly ajar. He went inside quickly, snapping the door closed behind him with the utmost care, as though afraid to wake up anyone inside.
If I were Robin, where would I have gone?
It was a stupid question. He kicked himself into high gear, barreling down the hall to the back stairwell, and following it all the way up to the rooftop door.
Wind and the warbling sound of sleeping birds greeted him as he opened the door wide. One pigeon was disturbed by his entrance, and it flapped angrily away as Wally climbed out onto the rooftop, wrapping his arms around himself as the wind filtered through his sweatshirt and caused him to give a little shudder.
Then he lifted his head, and blinked.
A figured stood at the edge of the rooftop, silhouetted against the backdrop of towering skyscrapers and lights. Wally knew who it was from the moment his eyes fell on him, but could barely believe it. What on earth was he wearing? He looked like some kind of thug from the streets.
He approached carefully, stopping a good ten feet from where the raven-haired boy stood staring out on the street below. Wally wavered anxiously where he stood, feeling as though a bubble surrounded the Boy Wonder, a barrier he could not pass without permission. He watched the back of his head for awhile, as though waiting for him to speak. It wasn't like Dick didn't know he was there – he'd been trained by the best, after all.
His eyes strayed a little, glancing out at the view beyond the building. Skyscrapers rose out before them, down the hills toward the sea. The building just to their right, high above them, flashed the word "Wayne" in enormous letters. And just beyond, out by the horizon, he could make out the familiar shape of Titan's tower, its glowing lights reflecting in the bay, along with the moon.
He could understand why Robin liked this view so well. He turned his attention back to the Boy Wonder, and finally spoke, hesitantly.
"Robin-?"
"I'm not in costume, Wally."
His response was flat, blunt. His head didn't even turn to address him, just speaking out to the cold night air. Wally swallowed hard, remembering what'd happened before, when he'd called him by his real name….
Wally glanced again out past the other boy. It wasn't the view that caught his attention this time. It was the height. It was the amount of vacant space that existed between Robin and the ground hundreds of feet below. A strange feeling curled up at the base of his spine and wouldn't go away. In fact, it only grew as the seconds passed. Against his better judgment, he took a few steps closer, challenging the invisible barrier he felt around the Boy Wonder. "What's going on?" he asked carefully, eyeing the edge of the rooftop, the space beyond it, and back to Dick once more. He took in the sight of the other boy. His baggy shirt – it had to be an XL, at least – his large shorts. He scowled in disapproval "What are you wearing?"
"Clothes."
Another blunt response. Wally took another couple of steps, but this time followed the invisible circle around Robin, so he remained the same distance away, but was able to peer upon the other hero from a different angle.
He wasn't wearing his mask. His hair hung in his eyes, blocking them a little from view, but Wally could still see his distant, empty gaze. There was a stark, almost horrifying paleness to his face.
Wally felt a shiver pass over him as he tore his gaze away and looked out over the ledge that was now pressed against his calf, at the sheer drop to the sidewalk below. The wind was whipping more fervently now, as though trying to grab him and pull him down.
They were so high up…
This wasn't anything unusual, right? Robin was always jumping off of high places, always standing on rooftops and looking over them. It's what he did, right?
So why did he feel like this?
"Dick… what's going on?" he asked again, carefully, like one would address a scared child.
Dick didn't speak a moment. He just continued to stare out at the street far below him. Wally followed his gaze nervously, but still didn't know why he felt so nervous.
"…what's it like, Wally?"
Wally blinked dully. "What's what like?"
""What's it like… to be able to move as fast as you do? …To be able to run away as fast as you do? To be able to just… be gone. Like that." He snapped his fingers by his side. His eyes hadn't strayed once from their position as he spoke, staring off into space like he was having some fantastic daydream. He continued on, a strange smile twitching on his face as the words left his mouth. "Gone away to someplace more pleasant… far away from everything… from your problems… from hell… What is that kind of freedom like?"
Wally stared at the other boy with growing concern, but found himself unable to speak. Dick glanced at him sideways, and their eyes connected for a moment, sending a strange rush of emotions through Wally's chest and arms. Then, Dick blurted out a strange noise – something caught between a laugh and a whimper – and turned away, shaking his head, looking back out at the world below.
"I can't…" His voice was lost to the wind, but Wally made out his lips movements. A clear rigidity shot through Dick's body, and he straightened a little, the wind tousling his hair as he spoke louder to the empty air. "I can't run. I can't just blink my eyes and be away from all of this. I can't do anything. I can't even fly. I call myself Robin, but I can't even fly!" He barked another odd laugh and shook his head again. "I try… god I really try… but all I do is fall… all I'll ever do is fall…"
"Dick."
Genuine fear was racing through Wally's heart as he found himself stepping forward, all thoughts of keeping his distance wiped clean by the hungry look in Dick's eyes as he stared at the fall before him. The speedster closed the gap between them in less than a second, snapping out a hand and clutching Dick's wrist in a steadfast grip, determined not to let go. He refused to blink as he watched him, swallowing hard, his heart thumping as he fought for the right words to say.
"You should step down from there…" he finally managed.
"You think I'll jump?"
Dick still wasn't looking at him. Wally could feel muscles in Dick's arms tensing beneath his grasp, and he adjusted his grip nervously. The familiar soft texture of skin pressed against his palm made his stomach twist as he gazed out at the drop beyond the Boy Wonder. He mulled the question over, and responded in a muted voice. "You're giving me that feeling, yes…"
"Come on, Wally. I'm not stupid." A dark look washed over the Boy Wonder's bare face. "Jumping wouldn't do a damn thing. You'd stop me before I hit the bottom."
"I'd still feel better if you stepped down, Dick." Wally tightened his grip a little more, swallowing hard. "Please…"
For what felt like an eternity, nothing happened. The wind swept around them, disheveling hair, biting at their skin. Wally held fast, his palm beginning to sweat from clutching so relentlessly. He refused to let go, but he couldn't simply pull Dick to safety. No… he needed to see him make that decision himself.
At long last, Dick sighed, and took the small step down off the raised ledge of the building. Wally tightened his grip, indicating silently that he wanted Dick to move further back, and with some clear reluctance, the other hero complied, allowing the redheaded boy to steer him a good distance back, then stand between him and the edge of the roof. Feeling only a little better, Wally slackened his hold a little, allowing Dick's arm to slide away until their fingers met. He held them gently, his heart pounding in his chest, so many emotions mixed up as he looked up into Dick's face, half hidden beneath his dark bangs.
What was going on? Why had Dick called him here after what'd happened back at the Tower earlier? Why was he acting so odd, terrifying him so much? He glanced down at their hands, lightly running his fingertips along the others'. Why hadn't Robin pulled away, like he expected him to?
He looked back up, catching those brilliant blue eyes staring into his right before his mind was swept away by the touch of lips against his own, by the feel of Dick's body pressed tightly against him. All the concern and dread he'd felt so strongly dissipated at once, and he leaned in eagerly, almost desperately. His hands shook as he grabbed hold of the other boy, his mind and body melting, rejoicing, as he fell deeper into the moment. Fingers caressed his jawline. Hungry lips fought for dominance. It was overwhelming, the touch of his hands, the scent of his body, the strange taste on his lips.
Dick's lips strayed away, gently kissing across Wally's cheek, down his jawline, to his neck. Wally couldn't help but moan against the sensations running through his body, but his mind was slowly returning, with a terrible vengeance.
Something doesn't feel right about this…
"Dick…" he managed to utter, his voice thick and husky inside his own head. Dick didn't answer, his lips suckling hard on the sensitive spot between Wally's neck and shoulder, sending tingling flashes of lightning through his body. Wally clenched his eyes tight, fighting to suppress the new moan building up in his throat, fighting to find his breath, to calm himself down despite the hormones that demanded control. His hands wandered up Robin's torso, finding his shoulders and gently steering him back, breaking his hold. Dick glanced up with wide, almost confused eyes, and Wally felt that same knot forming in his stomach again. "Dick, what's going on?"
Dick's eyes held his. A spasm of something like terror shot through them before they grew distant, like they had been before. He gave a small, dismissive laugh, shaking his head. "Nothing."
"You're such a terrible liar."
Robin just breathed a false laugh, and looked away. Wally stared into that face gently, frowning a little as he noticed the slight discoloration on the other side of Robin's face. He lifted a hand, tenderly running his thumb along his bruised cheek and jaw with a sorrowful look. "Was that where Star…?"
"Huh…? Oh… right… Starfire…" Robin's hand reached up, as though he'd just remembered the bruising was there. Their hands grazed one another softly, until Dick laid his firmly on top, pressing Wally's palm against his face. He released a sigh, leaning into it.
"Does it hurt?"
"No more than anything else…"
Wally thought about it a moment, remembering the cuts, the bruises, the bandages. All the remnants of what'd happened earlier that week. He felt a rush of remorse, but couldn't think of anything to say.
Dick's blue eyes swiftly flicked back up to him, his face lighting up as though an idea just came to him. "Wally… let's run away."
"What?"
A weak, hopeful smile spread across Dick's lips as he gripped Wally by the arms. "J-just us. Let's just get away from here. From them. From all the bullshit. Find a place where we can hide. Where no one can find us, not even Slade. …Just you and me."
Wally didn't move. His mouth hung open in disbelief, his heart fluttering hard in his chest as he stared into those hopeful eyes. Run away…? Just the two of them…? Did that mean…?
Wally blinked a few time, pressing his lips together as he glanced around, trying to make sense of all of it. It just didn't feel right, any of this. He thought of how Robin had treated him back at the Tower, how he'd clearly cared more about Starfire than about him, how he clearly felt that Kid Flash was the reason Slade had…. He swallowed hard, shaking his head, feeling his heart sinking in his chest. "This isn't about me at all, is it…?" he murmured quietly. "It's not that you want to be with me… you just don't want to be here."
Robin's expression fell a little, the light that had sparkled in his eyes for that small moment dimming again.
"Dick, in all the time that I've known you, I've never known you to run away from anything. What exactly are you trying to run from? Is it Slade? Because we can help protect you—"
"Who's 'we'?" Dick suddenly spat, throwing out his hands and looking around. "Cuz I don't see anyone here but you!"
"You know who I mean. Yeah, Star might take a while to ever forgive you but I don't think the others would – "
"What?" Dick interrupted with a seething look. "Don't think the others would what? Give up on me?"
"Exactly." Wally spoke firmly, with pure conviction. "They're your friends. After everything you guys have been through, they would never-"
"They don't want to have anything to do with me." Dick strode forward with his hands burying into his baggy pockets, brushing by Wally with his hair hanging in his face. "And I don't want to have anything to do with them…"
"Why? What happened?"
"Nothing!"
Robin had his back to him. A tense moment passed, during which his shoulders began to hunch towards his fallen black hair. When he finally spoke again, his voice was strained and weak. "I just can't take it anymore, Wally… the way they look at me, the way they treated me after Slade… And now, it's only a matter of time before everyone…. before Bruce…"
His voice tapered off. Wally just gaped, almost stunned stupid. He was not expecting that name to pop up. "Dick… what—"
"Nothing." There was that word again. Wally scowled a little and moved forward, grasping Dick's arm and forcing him around.
"Damnit, Dick. Stop saying that. Something is definitely wrong and I just want to-"
His voice vanished as he looked on the Boy Wonder. Dick had a peculiar look to his face, a strange, almost dreamy smile as he looked up at Wally with those hazy blue eyes. Wally gaped down at him, stunned.
"None of it matters," Dick murmured quietly. The wind kicked up around them, making his hair and shirt flutter harshly. "It just… doesn't matter. I got what was coming to me. I mean… I kinda deserved it…"
"No one deserves what happened to you." Wally spoke sternly, defiantly. "No one."
"…What about Slade? Does he deserve it?"
Wally swallowed hard, but couldn't respond. Robin simply chuckled, twisting his head away. "Whatever. It doesn't matter. None of it matters."
"I don't like you saying that."
"You don't like anything I've been saying."
"Because everything you're saying is scaring me. I'm not an idiot, Dick. Something is seriously wrong and you're not telling me what!"
"It's because I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to think about it. I just… I just want to be with you. I just… wanted to see you."
Dick spoke in a halting way, as though distracted by something unseen. He frowned a little, lifting a hand and looking over it, as though confused by it. Wally stared at it too, uncertain. "Does it hurt?"
"No… In fact… nothing hurts anymore…" A strange grin stretched over his face again, his eyes falling half-closed. "That's so cool."
Warning bells rang in Wally's head. He clutched Robin's shoulders tightly, forcing him to look at him. "Dick. Are you high or something?"
"Or something…"
Wally clutched his face with his hands, looking at him closely. Dick's gaze met his reluctantly, still smiling weakly, like an idiot walking through a dream. "Dick, what did you take?"
Robin laughed, then leaned forward, as though to kiss him again. "You're so cute when you're playing detective."
"Stop that, Dick!" he forced him back a little too strongly, eyes widening with terror. "What did you take?"
Panic and disbelief coursed through him as he watched the hazy expression on Robin's face. Everything felt so wrong. Dick would never do something like that. What had gotten into him? What had happened to make him act this way?
Dick didn't answer. In a blink of an eye, Wally began patting him down, digging through the strange clothes Robin was wearing, turning out his pockets. A plastic bag fluttered out, and he snatched it and held it out numbly. "Dick… what was in this?"
Dick shrugged, still smiling. Wally grimaced in frustration. "Dammit, Dick! What did you take?"
"I'm not too sure, actually… whatever was in there…"
"How much? What all was in here?"
Another shrug. Wally shook his head. This just didn't make sense. It was just too stupid. Not only would Dick never do something like this, but he knew better than to…
"It doesn't matter, Wally. I'll be fine."
Wally looked up at the wistful look on the other boy's face. And then, it clicked. It clicked like a sledgehammer through his chest. His mouth fell open in horror.
It doesn't matter…. None of it matters….
"Dick… you didn't…"
"Didn't what?"
It wasn't really a question, more of a challenge. Challenging him to say it out loud, to admit it, to make it more real. Wally found his grip tightening on the other's arms, full panic seizing him. "We need to get you help…"
"No. I'll be fine…" He was trying to step away, forcing himself out of Wally's relentless grasp.
"I'm not going to stand here and let you overdose. I won't let you kill yourself like this!"
He said it. The words ripped his heart apart as he desperately clutched the raven-haired boy he'd grown so attached to. But Dick didn't even appear to be listening. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat, as his eyes stared off, apparently looking right through Wally, as though he wasn't there.
"Let me just have a little of this… please, Wally… let me just…" A strange, wheezy laugh leapt from him, his eyes glancing around like he couldn't see anymore. "Enjoy this. This feeling. No more pain… or burdens… Just… freedom."
"Dick…" Dread was clutching him ever tighter. He reached up and cupped Dick's shaking face in his hands. Horror struck him hard. Dick's skin was burning, and he could feel his heart beating far too fast through the veins in his neck. This was bad. This was so bad.
Suddenly, Dick looked up at him, locking eyes with him, making the whole world stand still. Shaking hands clasped onto Wally's shirt tightly, fingers tangling themselves into the cotton material. A weak, shuddering smile crossed the Boy Wonder's pale face. He opened his mouth to speak, but it seemed to take him awhile to string the words together. Finally, he spoke, in a strained, weak whisper. "I feel like I'm flying, Wally…"
And then, for the first time in his life, Wally saw tears streaming down Dick's face. He stared into those misty blue eyes, unable to breathe, unable to think. His own blue eyes began to water as he watched him, held him.
Then, time seemed to speed up again, unbearably fast, as Dick suddenly moaned and folded in half, his grip loosening from his shirt as he reached to clutch at his own chest. Wally's desperate scream was lost on the wind as he caught the boy before he hit the ground. Tears of panic and pure dread blurred his vision as he clutched Dick tightly to him, pleading with him, begging him to hold on. He glanced around frantically as he grappled for that pulse in his neck, hyperventilating as his mind was lost to panic. This wasn't happening. None of this was happening. He couldn't lose him this way.
His eyes fell on the T-shaped lights of Titans Tower in the distance.
In a rush of movement, the two teens vanished from the rooftop. The buildings and streets whipped by, mere blurs of light and dark, as Wally bore the fading Titan back home, his brain screaming hysterically inside his head as tears streamed unchecked down his cheeks.
Hang on, Dick. For fuck's sake, don't do this to me!
…don't do this to me…
A/N Aaaand cliffhanger. Sorry. This chapter is too long as it is. Can't go making it longer. Story's not done yet, though, so... yeah.