A/N: Not as happy about this chapter as I could be, but I was dreading this one. Thrilled about the next one, especially your reactions to it since it's the final.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.


Toxic

Hovering over Roy's bedside was not how Wally expected to spend the next week.

Apparently, he'd overdosed on heroin. Bad. But he had only collapsed because of the initial shock to his system and gone unconscious after falling and hitting his head on a table causing a slight concussion. Already, they knew he was strong enough to make a full recovery and Queen had already offered to pay for rehab and for all the debt his ward had racked up just paying for the drugs. And rumor had it he'd be back on his feet in a month and fully able to go back to Red Arrow in two as long as he went to therapy without arguing.

The only thing that Wally could think of was why Roy would do it, why he would shoot himself up with something he knew could kill him. What was the point? Was he trying to die? Was he trying to escape something? The worst scenarios ran through his mind: Roy didn't love him anymore and needed the easiest escape, or Roy couldn't confront the League about what all was going on between him and Cheshire and then the relationship with Wally... Chaos reigned his mind.

Then there was the hardest question to answer, especially when it was Barry doing the asking.

"What were you doing at Roy's apartment?"

Watching bad movies. Eating pizza. Drinking. Smoking. Having sex. Wally nearly broke down having to explain it all; he was guilty of everything. He wasn't a victim, he was a pawn. His emotions were all in his head, his mind and heart too intertwined to separate.

Roy had asked him to drink it up, and out of love, Wally had. Because there was potential. And that potential grew. Roy offered a cigarette, which the speedster refused. Until it came down to repairing a breach in the dam. Wally took the lighter and drank in the smoke. He needed to keep Roy with him. The sex was just one more notch, one more blow, the sick, twisted truth-

But he didn't tell them about that. He left it at smoking and drinking, no strings attached, no love in the picture.

Because Roy didn't need to go to prison.

But Wally told the League about what they'd been doing, buying booze with fake IDs, puffing cigarettes 'til they were blue in the face. And the Justice League agreed to send them both to rehab and therapy for their problems. Roy was easily an alcoholic, and Wally knew he was smoker now, sometimes twitching when he couldn't get outside to light one.

The worst part was that, standing alongside of Batman, just in the Dark Knight's shadow, stood Dick Grayson, stare degrading and disapproving. He'd put together the pieces that the League hadn't and read between the lines of Roy and Wally's story.

They were together. And he knew.

But that was a personal problem, not League business. Everyone knew Wally was gay, so it was only a matter of time until he blabbed about Roy and the archer would have to come out of the closet... That was, if Roy was in it for the right reasons...

The ginger couldn't tell the League for the same reason he couldn't say anything about the sex. The legality of it would put Roy behind bars. And he didn't deserve time in the big house; he just needed to wake up.

A week after overdosing on enough heroin to kill a small cow, he opened his eyes.

The first thing Roy saw when he opened his eyes was Wally curled up in a chair at the side of his bed, head cocked to one side, eyes closed, mouth ajar and dribbling drool, and the kid's hand on top of his own.

Time had passed. Nothing had changed. Wally was still his whether the Justice League liked it or not. He had the kid wrapped around his finger tight enough that West would bend to his every will. It was a sick, sick thought, but he knew it. Wally would do anything for him.

Anything.

The archer looked to his arm and saw the IV. He searched briefly for any posted guards or Leaguers. No one. And he rolled over slightly, his body stiff, and gave the freckled boy's hand a quick squeeze. "Wally," came his hoarse whisper.

Jade eyes blinking open, heartbeat already spiking, he took in his fellow redhead with a broad, relieved grin before leaning over towards Harper. "I'm so glad you're alive," he breathed, voice shaking and desperate. "I woke up and you were just laying there-"

Roy hushed him with a soft glance and a ghost of a smile. "Relax." He squeezed his hand again, relaxed for the first time in a long time, no drugs in his system, no smoke on his tongue, no alchohol in his blood. "I'm not going anywhere soon, Wally. I'm here for you." Because, when it started out, West was the only one there for him.


A/N: I like it, but I don't totally love it. But I do want your feedback 'cause the next chapter is the last one. And I wanna see if I'm good enough to try another Roy/Wally story. I got an idea, just wanna know if you guys would read it…

Review?

~Sky