A/N: Warning for implied self harm while Dick's talking to the team.

Chapter 12: Facing the Music

Dick turned down Barry's offer to drive him to the zeta tube. He couldn't trust himself not to burst into tears in the car. He was well and truly out of breath by the time he reached and took the zeta tube to the Batcave, but Bruce was at the computer and Dick had forgotten where he'd stashed the wheelchair. The only concession he made was to take the elevator instead of the stairs, ignoring Bruce when he said something he didn't quite catch anyway.

He ran out of steam about halfway to his room, semi-healed ribs screaming at him as his breaths came in short gasps. He dropped the crutches and collapsed against the wall, finally sliding to the floor. Someone would find him eventually, though he'd rather it be later rather than sooner since his eyes were watering. A lot.

Okay, he was crying. Damn it, he was crying in the middle of a hallway on the floor where anybody could find him and he was too tired to move. He couldn't even begin to imagine how ridiculous he must have looked when Bruce showed up with the wheelchair.

Bruce set Dick's crutches on the back and wordlessly helped Dick into the chair. Dick was grateful for the silence. Bruce wheeled him back to his room, at which point Dick had gotten himself under control. His ribs still hurt and his breathing remained uneven, but at least he'd gotten a handle on the bawling for the moment. Exhaustion had overridden everything else.

"I'll be fine," he told Bruce before the man could get a word in. "Just writing cheques my body can't cash again."

Bruce helped him out of the chair and sat him on the edge of his bed. "Did you… want company?"

"Not right now."

"I'll check on you later, then," Bruce promised. "Get some rest." He left him alone.

Dick tugged off his one shoe and lay down, letting his body uncoil. He didn't have the energy to go through the rather annoying process of taking his pants off with the damn cast on his leg. He compromised by taking his shirt off and throwing it away from him, not much caring where it landed. Alfred would understand; he'd been cutting Dick a lot of slack on account of his injuries lately. It was rare that Dick had both the energy and range of motion to clean up after himself.

Strangely enough, setting his mind on the logistics of cleaning up after oneself actually helped him calm down a bit. Wally would have a field day if he…

Dick curled up into an angry little ball. He was too tired to deal with this shit right now. Rest first, worry later.

The nap sucked, but apparently it was enough for his body to decide he wasn't allowed to sleep later that night. Initially, he busied himself with reading Batman's most recent case notes and making connections. But at about one in the morning, his brain decided it didn't want to play ball anymore, so he took out his frustrations by playing one of those 'infect the world and kill everybody' games. It was cathartic, in a way, except trying to infect Madagascar was a nightmare because they kept closing their seaport.

"Careful Alfred doesn't hear you cussing like that." Bruce poked his head through the doorway.

"I think Alfred's decided to stop telling me off for anything until I'm all healed up," Dick replied, quitting the current game. Once Madagascar closed that port, it was all over.

"He never gives me a free pass when I'm injured."

"Because it's usually your fault."

"Ouch." Bruce kicked off his shoes and sat beside Dick on the bed, putting his feet up. "What are you playing there?"

"Pandemic. I'm trying to infect the world with a deadly disease, but they keep figuring out what's happening before I can introduce it to every country so there's no escape."

"Sounds morbid. How does it work?"

"Eh, it's pretty simple. See." Dick started a new game, and explained the mechanics. He chose the parasite this time because the virus kept getting noticed too quickly. "This'll be boring. I'm employing the 'slow and steady wins the race' tactic."

"I've got time."

"Okay, then." Dick went into the evolution panel and removed the symptoms. He'd add them again later. He set everything the way he wanted and put the game on the fastest speed.

"Barry told me what happened. I'm sorry things got so out of hand."

"I told Wally's dad I'd destroy his life if he blabbed about my secret identity, so I don't think we'll have to worry about that at least."

"I might pay him a visit myself."

"A stern phone call will get the point across, I think."

"How's Wally taking it?"

"Not well." Dick slowed the game so he didn't have to babysit it while having this conversation. "His mum told him he could come home if he broke up with me and went back in the closet. I think he's seriously considering it. I… could have handled it better than I did, really. We fought about it."

"And that's why you were upset."

"Yeah." Dick rested his head on Bruce's shoulder. "It was a stupid thing to get upset about. I should've been calmer."

"Maybe, but your reaction was understandable. You've come to rely on Wally."

"I've got to rely on somebody, and you and I fight way too much for it to be you."

"I'm aware," Bruce grumbled. "You two should talk tomorrow—well, today—when you've both cooled down."

Dick snorted. "Of all the people to be giving relationship advice…"

"Let's… just get back to the game."

"Yes, sir." Dick sped the game up again. "Oh, hell yes! Got Madagascar!"

Dick's phone rang halfway through lunch the next day. Wally's name popped up on the screen. Normally, Dick would've left the room to answer it, but he was stuck in the wheelchair today and didn't feel up to dragging himself away from the table.

"Excuse my manners, Alfie," he said, answering the phone. "Hello, stranger."

"Uh, hey. You busy?"

"Just for the moment. Why?"

"I wanted to talk to you about, you know, stuff. Didn't want to do it over the phone."

That sounded ominous. "Did you want me to come over?"

"Yeah, that'd be great."

"I'll get over there as soon as I can. I'll need a ride from the zeta tube. I'm stuck in the chair today."

"Shit, you okay?"

"Yeah, I just pushed myself a bit too much yesterday."

"Barry said you wouldn't let him drive you. That's not the smartest thing you've done, Dick."

"I didn't feel like being cooped up in a car. Don't worry about it."

Wally's eyeroll was practically audible. "I'll ask Barry to meet you at the tube."

"I'll finish up here and get there as soon as I can. Just… don't hold your breath."

"See ya." Wally hung up.

"I could use a hand getting down to the Batcave in a minute," Dick told Bruce, picking up what was left of his sandwich.

"That can be arranged."

"Eat your lunch first, sir," Alfred said. Dick got right on that.

"If things go badly with Wally, I could beat him up for you," Jason offered.

"I don't think that'll be necessary, Jay, but thank you." Dick polished off his sandwich. "Okay, I'm ready."

Bruce finished his protein shake and wheeled Dick down to the Batcave. They hadn't really resolved their outstanding issues, but at least they were talking again. It was unlikely either of them would be able to handle the conversation they needed to have until the Joker was finally found. They were both too raw for that.

"Do you need help on the other side?" Bruce asked as he programmed the zeta tube.

"Barry should be there by now. I'll be fine. Thanks." Dick flashed him a smile. It never hurt to be especially polite right after a make-up. He wheeled himself the rest of the way into the zeta tube and waved goodbye before he was whisked away.

Barry's car was parked at the curb in front of the alleyway that held the zeta tube, which masqueraded as a defunct phone box with the door ripped off. Good thing there was no door, otherwise Dick would've been stuck in there without enough room to get the damn thing open. Being trapped in a phone box on account of a wheelchair was, surprisingly, not something that Dick was jumping at the chance to experience.

Getting out of the box was still a trial. Dick accidentally punched the doorway at least three times while trying to wheel himself. By the time he reached Barry's car, his knuckles were throbbing.

Barry stepped out of the car. "I was about to come and help, but you looked like you were having too much fun."

"Most fun I've had in weeks." Dick aligned himself beside the car, rolling backwards so there was room to open the passenger side door. "I could use a hand getting into the car, though."

Barry opened the door. "So, uh, how does this work?"

"I can stand for a bit," Dick replied. "Just help me hobble over to the seat and I'll take care of myself from there. The chair'll fold up and fit wherever you want to stash it."

Barry pulled Dick to his feet and supported him through his journey to the carseat. Hopping for even that long brought the aches back, but Dick breathed through it as he strapped himself in. He heard some cursing as Barry wrestled with the wheelchair and finally got it in the trunk. He slid the attached crutches into the backseat rather than keep everything together.

Barry fell into the driver's seat, sighing. "That was an adventure."

Dick snorted. "A little adventure never hurt anyone."

Barry started up the car. "Says the kid in a wheelchair."

"That… is a good point." Dick flinched at the sound of a car horn behind them. The car it came from streaked past them, narrowly avoiding a car on the other side of the road.

"And that's why I normally run places." Barry pulled the car out onto the road properly.

Dick tried to ignore his heart freaking out over the car horn. "I don't know what you're talking about. The road is a magical place." It would've been easier if he hadn't sounded so breathless. Of all the things to freak him out, it had to be the car horn. Fortunately, Barry either didn't notice or thought he was still breathless from getting into the car.

The trip to the house didn't take long, or maybe Dick was just comparing it to his crutch-walk home yesterday. Anything seemed fast compared to that. The sooner he healed up, the better. Being stuck in a chair on the bad days and reliant on crutches on the better ones had gotten old.

Barry pulled into the driveway. Wally got up off the doorstep when he saw them, and was at Dick's door before Barry even turned the engine off.

"Chair's in the trunk," Dick told him, undoing the seatbelt. Wally zipped to the back of the car. Dick managed to get the door open and swing his legs out by the time Wally had the chair ready. Wally'd had a lot of practise.

"I just realised the step might give you trouble," he said, helping Dick out of the car and into the chair.

"It'll be fine. You can always carry me over the threshold if it's too much." Dick threw him a sugary smile. Barry got the crutches out of the backseat and the three of them headed for the front door. The step wasn't too much of a problem, though Dick got jostled around a little bit and Wally apologised at least five times.

"I'm just glad your room's not up a flight of stairs here," Dick commented once he and Wally were finally settled in Wally's room.

"That's one advantage to not living with my parents anymore, I guess." Wally's voice was dripping with false cheer. Dick was too observant to miss his lack of control over its volume.

"I'm sorry."

"Let's not go there again." Wally sat on his bed and gave Dick a weak smile. "None of this is your fault. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"I wasn't exactly innocent in that conversation, Wally." Dick wheeled himself close enough to take Wally's hand.

"Okay, we were both dicks."

Dick scowled at him.

"What? We were." Wally rubbed Dick's hand between both of his, which was weird since Dick didn't actually feel cold or anything but whatever. "But you were right. Breaking up with you wouldn't fix things. It's not like I can forget my dad's love comes with a list of terms and conditions. I don't know how safe I'd be going back there now. Dad's never abused me or anything, but he also used to think I was straight so…" Wally shrugged. "I'm just sorry it took a fight between us to figure that out."

"We had to start fighting sometime," Dick replied. "And Bruce and I are talking again because of it, so it's not the worst thing that could've happened between us."

Wally snorted, but the humour drained out of him immediately afterwards. "The worst thing's already happened. I lost you once already. Nearly lost you a second time."

"But you didn't," Dick reassured him. "We're both still here."

"Damn, I wish your ribs weren't fucked up so I could just squeeze the hell out of you."

"Help me onto the bed and we can cuddle a bit instead," Dick suggested. Wally pulled him to his feet—well, foot—and helped him hop to the edge of the bed. Dick was able to handle things from there, though he did come close to bashing his cast into the wall.

"Well done, babe. Well done."

Dick lay down on his back; other positions often got too painful for him after a while, and shifting positions took a lot out of him. "Shut up and cuddle me."

"Yes, your highness." Wally wriggled up to him and buried his face in the crook of Dick's neck. This close, Dick could feel the little tremors rolling off Wally's body. He couldn't quite run his hand through the other boy's hair like he wanted to, so he settled for kissing the spot on his head that he could reach.

It didn't take long for the tears to show. Dick gripped Wally's hand tightly and let him get it all out. It was nice to get to be the strong one for a change. Well, not exactly nice. Refreshing, maybe. It was hard to find the words to describe it without sounding like an ass.

"I hate this," Wally eventually sobbed.

"I know," Dick soothed.

He stayed over that night. Wally still managed to fall asleep first, but awoke a few hours later amidst flailing limbs.

Dick caught his wrist before it smacked into his ribs. "Wally? Wha—?"

Wally sat up, breathing heavily. "Dick?"

"I'm here. You okay?"

"I… yeah." Wally threw himself back onto his pillow, burying his face in it. "'M fine."

Dick struggled to sit up himself so he'd be in a better position to rub Wally's heaving back. "Bad dream?"

Wally grunted into the pillow.

"I'm here if you want to talk," Dick said gently.

"Don't want to."

"Okay, you don't have to." Dick stayed up for a bit longer, continuing to rub Wally's back until he slipped back into sleep. Dick then lay back down, but it felt like he'd barely gotten to sleep himself when the old Joker nightmares were back, with a special guest appearance from the crowbar.

He woke with a half-voiced scream dying in his throat and a stomach full of acid. Wally was petting his hair, whispering comfort into his ear. Dick lay stiff for a few moments, getting his breathing and heartbeat back under control. He eventually felt calm enough to accept Wally's arms around him.

"Hell of a night," Dick whispered, fighting hysteria. Wally didn't need this right now.

"Yeah." Wally didn't sound much better. "Which dream?"

"Joker. It's fine. I'm fine."

Wally's sigh was enough to communicate both his disbelief and acceptance. Maybe another night they'd feel up to deconstructing the bullshit. Tonight, however, it was probably better just to go back to sleep.

Dick and Wally didn't set foot in Mount Justice until Dick had a walking cast and Wally was feeling better about the situation with his parents. He still slipped into melancholy on occasion, but he no longer looked like he'd shake apart at the slightest provocation. Dick's ribs were mostly healed and he rarely had to use his wheelchair to get around anymore. Both boys were still suffering from nightmares, but they felt better equipped to handle them with each other's help.

M'gann was already soaring into the room as the pair materialised in the cave. The rest of the team—minus Jason, who was training with Bruce—followed her shortly thereafter. Roy was among then. Questions were written on all their faces, as Dick had expected. This was going to be a long day. Bruce had agreed to turn off the cameras in the living area unless an alarm was triggered or Dick gave him the okay. This wasn't a conversation he wanted recorded, especially when the League didn't know the things he was going to have to talk to the team about.

M'gann swooped in for a hug. "You're back!"

"Be gentle with him," Wally warned. M'gann stopped herself before she reached Dick.

"I'm mostly healed," Dick told her. "Hugs are welcome."

"Okay." She continued forward and carefully put her arms around his shoulders. "Welcome back." She floated away to let the rest of the team have a turn.

"Thanks." Dick accepted a hug from Zatanna, who then made way for Artemis, followed by Raquel. It was probably for the best that Conner didn't go in for a hug, since he looked a bit too pissed to watch his strength. Roy didn't look much better, and Kaldur was watching the both of them like he expected he'd have to stop them from doing something stupid.

"You've got some explaining to do," Roy finally said.

Dick nodded solemnly and motioned for the team to follow him into the living area. He still had a slight limp in his walk, but he was used to overcoming physical challenges. Learning to walk with the cast was just another thing he could add to the list.

"We haven't seen either of you for ages," Zatanna said as the team settled themselves in the room.

Wally sat on the arm of the sofa beside Dick. "I had some personal stuff to deal with and Dick was all weird about you guys seeing him in a wheelchair."

"That wasn't—" Dick sighed. "Whatever. We're here now."

"And it's about damn time," Roy said. "I've had to put everything on hold for this."

"Nobody asked you to stick around," Artemis replied sharply.

"Stop," Kaldur said before the argument could gather steam. "Richard has agreed to answer our questions. I suggest we do not waste any more time."

"What exactly did you guys want to know?" Dick asked. He had been dreading this conversation for weeks. He might've gotten it over with sooner, had he not been worried he wouldn't be able to handle the stress on top of his injuries.

"How about we start with what the hell possessed you to turn into a murderer?" Roy burst out.

"Getting tortured and killed tends to shift one's priorities." Maybe that wasn't a good way to respond when Roy was obviously upset, but it certainly beat yelling back at him.

"Meaning…?" Conner chimed in, looking utterly unimpressed.

"Ugh, I'll just tell you everything. Get comfortable." Dick shifted in his seat, trying to piece the words together in his head. "When Ra's brought me back using the Lazarus Pit, I didn't have any of my memories. M'gann reconstructed my memory of what happened right after I came out of the Pit, so I now know that I fought my way out of Ra's' base using muscle memory and instinct. I ended up living in a cave nearby while I put my head back together again. The first thing that came back to me was a laugh. The Joker's laugh." The memory was still sickening to think about.

"Shit," Wally breathed. He hadn't heard Dick's story before coming back to America, either. It wasn't something Dick liked to talk about.

"Through that, I remembered how I died," Dick continued, "which ultimately led me to remembering everything else." He felt nauseous. "It… wasn't pleasant." He shook it off. "I eventually made my way to town where I could sort out what I wanted to do." He'd skipped a large chunk of events between leaving the cave and getting to town, but it wasn't something he wanted to share. Ever.

"What exactly did you want to do?" Conner prompted.

"The one thing I had figured out was that I wanted the Joker dead," Dick said, still fighting to keep calm. There was no way he could keep going if he fell apart now. "I don't know how much of that was because of what he did to me and how much was the side-effects of the Pit, but I knew I'd had enough of granting him mercy. Originally, that's all I wanted to do. End the Joker. Everything else to me was secondary. I wasn't happy when I found out Bruce had let the Joker live, but I gave Bruce the benefit of the doubt and assumed he'd stayed his hand because he thought that's what I would've wanted. I thought I could convince him to change his mind if I came home and talked to him."

"That… would've saved us a lot of trouble," Wally commented.

"Maybe," Dick conceded. "Of course, I couldn't just call him up and say 'hey Bruce it's your dead kid'. There's no way he would've believed me. So I did odd jobs that paid cash and saved up to get back to America. I didn't have any identification and I was obviously young and foreign so it wasn't easy finding work. I avoided crime as much as I could at first; I didn't want to deal with that when I wasn't sure how I wanted to handle criminals anymore. It took a long time to save the money, especially accounting for living expenses. I was getting close after about a year, but…"

Wally heard the tension in his voice. "What happened?"

"I'd been keeping track of developments in Gotham over the internet. That's how I, uh, found out there was a new Robin." Dick rubbed the back of his neck. He was glad Jason wasn't here. He didn't want him thinking Dick blamed him. "I don't remember what exactly happened right after that—that's one of the blank spots I mentioned a while back, M'gann—but I had to replace my computer the next day, so… nothing good." Dick nearly mentioned he'd also sustained some new injuries during that blackout period. Maybe he'd just tell Wally later. "After that, I didn't feel like Bruce would listen to me if I talked to him about the Joker. And I started thinking that… maybe… the reason he let the Joker live wasn't out of respect for my memory."

"So… what?" said Roy. "You thought your daddy let the Joker live because he didn't love you enough?"

Dick shrank back in his seat a little; he couldn't help it. "You had to find the worst possible way to phrase that, didn't you? Yeah. Okay. Fine. You got me. I was a giant baby with a gun and insecurities big enough to see from the fucking moon. I wish I could say I was mind-controlled, too, but sadly, I was just broken into pieces and trying to rebuild myself from the ground up and I fucked it up I fucked it all up."

Wally's hand was on his wrist. "Maybe we should continue this later."

Dick pulled his hand away. "I'm fine. You don't have to take what I'm saying seriously, Roy. I don't care. You wanted an explanation and I'm giving you one. There's no way I can make you understand without killing you and throwing you in a Lazarus Pit so you can experience it for yourself."

"Pass."

Dick breathed out his tension. "Anyway, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I sought out a guy the League of Shadows sometimes used when they needed an explosives expert, learned everything I could from him and killed him. I also started taking shadier jobs and cleaning up after myself once I had the money. I needed it if I was going to take the Joker and Batman on by myself.

"It was pretty much a downward spiral from there and I just got angrier and angrier. I returned to Gotham and took a slice out of Black Mask's drug empire for myself. I wasn't stupid enough to think killing the dealers would stop it, so I tried controlling the flow myself. That way I was at least able to keep kids away from the business and hopefully stop a few lives from being ruined. And I needed the money to get my other plans rolling. I blew up a number of the shady clubs where the scum of Gotham hang out, mostly ones frequented by Black Mask's people. I didn't account for the innocent people in there. A lot of people died even before I moved against Black Mask in earnest."

"Why Black Mask?" asked Zatanna.

"There aren't a lot of criminals in Gotham with enough pull to get somebody out of Arkham," Artemis replied before Dick could. "He broke out shortly after an entire floor in the Sionis building got blown out. I take it that was your play?"

"Saved me having to go into Arkham myself," Dick replied. "I was also playing Batman at the time. Jason got a minor knee injury the first time they ran into me as the Red Hood, but that was probably for the best. It kept him away for a while. I wanted Bruce to figure out who I was over time, but I didn't want Jason getting in the middle of things."

"How noble," Conner said sarcastically. Dick ignored him; he'd hit his bullshit limit already.

"The Joker kidnapped some of the dealers I controlled to lure me out, along with Black Mask and a few of his people," he continued. "His trap it might've worked if the whole setup hadn't been a trap for him in the first place. I got the Joker away from Batman when he showed up. Then, the Joker and I had a little… alone time before I went to meet Bruce at the courthouse."

Dick still couldn't quite dredge up guilt at the memory of giving the Joker a taste of what had been done to him. He could definitely regret the deaths of the people who hadn't deserved it, possibly including some of the small-time crooks who got caught up in the action, but he couldn't bring himself to regret what he'd done to the Joker. Maybe he never would.

"What exactly did you do to him?" Wally asked. His knowledge of that night was limited; he'd never pushed Dick for details.

"I showed him the finer points of creative crowbar usage," Dick said darkly, "just like he'd shown me." The team was looking at him like he was a stranger. Wally probably looked the least shocked out of them all, but he'd also been privy to more information than the others.

"Fair enough, I guess," was all he said.

"I met Bruce afterwards," Dick continued, reaching for his composure. "He was very… apologetic. Kept going on about me needing help. He was right, of course, but it wasn't what I wanted to hear. I don't know what I wanted to hear, really. We fought and I let him chase me to where I'd stashed the Joker. Bruce assumed I was mad because he didn't save me from the Joker. He's always been good at finding ways to blame himself for things. It didn't even occur to him the reason we were fighting was because the Joker was still alive."

"But you said Jason becoming Robin was the reason you chose to walk that path," Zatanna said.

"I didn't tell him that," Dick replied. "It wasn't even about Jason at that point. That had just been a catalyst. I tried to convince Bruce killing the Joker was the right thing to do after all the pain he'd caused, but he was stubborn like always. So I tried to force him into a situation where his only options were either to kill me or let me kill the Joker."

"I heard you yelling over the comm link," said Wally. Dick… hadn't known that. He hadn't been paying all that much attention to what Bruce had been doing at the time.

"So, you heard?"

"Just your voice, not anything you said," Wally clarified. "I was telling Bruce I'd saved Jason from the shipping container you'd locked him in. Dick wanted to keep Jason out of the fight," he added for the others' benefit.

"You locked him in a shipping container?" asked Conner.

"Don't get any ideas," Artemis replied. "How'd Bruce keep everyone alive?" she prompted Dick.

"He sabotaged my gun with a well-placed batarang so the thing backfired on me," Dick replied. "I'd wired the place with explosives as a Plan B, but Batman threw me out the window and everybody survived anyway, though the Joker definitely came off worse." That was another thing Dick wasn't sorry for. He wasn't about to bother feeling bad for hurting the bastard who hurt him. He had enough guilt to be getting on with.

"Bruce was in touch with me the whole time," Wally added. "I was the only other person aside from Bruce's butler who knew what Dick was up to. Bruce had me chase Dick down while he guarded the Joker. And Dick pointed a gun at me. It was a real bonding experience."

"You'll recall I let you take it off me," Dick said.

"You couldn't bring yourself to mess up my stunning good looks."

"Nah, I was holding the gun left-handed and had a serious case of the shakes. Your looks had nothing to do with it."

"Ouch, babe. Ouch."

"So, that's it?" asked Conner.

"I let Wally take me back to Wayne Manor and patch me up," Dick responded. "Things have been a bit rocky, but Bruce let Black Canary in on everything so she could help me. I've been in therapy with her since then. Wally's practically been a second therapist."

"I bet I could've billed Bruce and he actually would've paid me."

"I dare you to ask him."

"You ask him."

"Remind me to never get on your bad side, Dick," Raquel commented.

"You are one scary bastard," Roy added, with a touch of reverence. Shock and awe seemed to have overridden his anger.

"I'm gonna take that as a compliment," said Dick. "Anyway, look, I'm not asking you guys to just accept what I've done. There are some things I can't bring myself to regret, like everything I did directly to the Joker, but I still know what I did was wrong and a lot of undeserving people got hurt. That's just something I have to live with. If working with me is too much to ask, I'll leave the team."

The team shared a few looks that Dick couldn't quite read, but at least they didn't seem outright hostile. Finally, Kaldur spoke:

"I think we need time to discuss what we've learned today."

"I understand." Dick let Wally help him up.

"Do you want me to be a part of this?" Wally asked.

"You know more than we do," Kaldur replied. "Your contribution would be welcome."

"Are you okay to get home?" Wally asked Dick.

"I'll be fine. Let me know when you've made a decision." Dick left the living area and made a beeline for the zeta tube. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't worried, but there was nothing he could do to change anything now. The best thing he could do was go home, have something to eat and maybe lie down for a bit until he felt a little less ill.

Wally showed up after dinner to give Dick the update, by which time Dick had already slipped in and out of a doze at least half a dozen times. Wally gently touched the top of Dick's head, making him jerk fully awake.

"Sorry," Wally whispered.

"I was half-awake anyway," Dick murmured, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "Any news?"

"You're still on the team." Wally kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed, careful not to jostle Dick's bad leg. "Things might be a little weird for a while, though. Pretty hard to connect who you were as Robin with who you were as the Red Hood."

"And Nightwing's something completely different again," Dick added, lying back down with Wally. "Can you stay tonight?"

"Already cleared it with Barry and Iris."

"Thanks." Dick hadn't been thrilled about the concept of handling tonight on his own. He hadn't talked about everything he went through, but even the things that went unsaid were now haunting him. His internal pendulum was swinging between wanting to sleep until the feelings went away, and running until he left them all behind. Since he couldn't run yet, that just left sleep, and the memories and feelings had a habit of invading his sleep anyway.

Wally nuzzled the top of his head. Dick wrapped his arms around him and held on tight, squeezing his eyes shut and begging the tension inside him to go away. All the minor aches and pains and irritations throughout his body felt ten times worse than before. His leg was itchy inside the cast and his shoulders ached and his ankle throbbed dully and his wrists felt tight. He was going to lose his mind.

Wally gently traced a finger down Dick's spine, sliding back up once he reached the small of his back to start all over again. "Deep breath through your nose, babe." Dick let his abdomen fill with air. "Now let it out slowly through your mouth." Dick released the air in a slow stream. He buried his face in Wally's shirt and inhaled the scent of his deodorant. A little sharp and not exactly pleasant, but it was Wally's and that was good enough.

He dozed on and off for the next few hours, long after Wally himself had fallen into a deep sleep. The sick feeling still hadn't gone away. Dick extricated himself from Wally's embrace as gently as he could and crawled out of bed.

He grabbed his bathrobe and tottered down to the Batcave. The car was gone, so Bruce was probably still out on patrol. He hadn't taken Jason with him.

Dick settled himself in the computer chair and brought the system out of sleep mode. There wasn't much to see; Batman was in the Batmobile, and it looked like he was on his way home. Dick watched the cowl footage anyway. He didn't know why, but watching Bruce's gauntleted hands on the steering wheel made him feel better somehow.

The Batmobile roared into the cave and Batman got out. Dick would normally ascribe more interesting adjectives, since Bruce was usually more energetic when getting out of the car. Tonight, however, he just looked tired. Relaxed, but tired.

"What are you doing up?" Bruce asked as he approached the computer, pushing the cowl back off his head.

"Couldn't sleep. Good patrol?"

"Yes." Bruce nodded vaguely.

"You look a little worn out for a good patrol."

"I… ran into the Joker."

The sick feeling pooled in Dick's gut. "And?"

"I got him, Dick." Bruce's face broke out into a tired smile. "I got him." He swooped down to capture Dick in a hug. Dick clung to him, powerless to stop the sobs escaping his body. It had been weeks. Weeks of looking over his shoulder. Weeks of frustration. Weeks of anger.

He was so tired. Every sob drained him further, until all he could do was lean against Bruce's solid chest, eyes shut and tears leaking out the corners.

Bruce lifted him into his arms without effort. "It's all right, boy. I've got you."