Well, I'm back again with another chapter of angsty goodness. This is a relatively unique chapter because both Wally and Grimm are not featured! Imagine that! Instead, we take a look into the minds of the other Leaguers.

The medical inaccuracies continue throughout this chapter and for the remainder of the fic. I sincerely apologize, and I hope you all take comfort in the fact that I have no ambitions to work in healthcare.

Thanks for all of the reviews for the last chapter! And a fun hello to Vile and Not-So-Happy! Grimm hates you all! Lol!

And a special thank you to 'The Wally West Club's' manager Hersenschim for adding 'Grimm' to the C2! I'm so honored! And to everyone else: check out that C2! There are some awesome Wally stories on there :)

Well, now that I'm done with the shameless plugging, on with the fic!

Disclaimer: Still nada. Which, I'm told, means nothing.

CHAPTER NINE: EXASPERATION

"How could this have happened?" Superman glared at the near-quivering doctor before him. Superman usually managed to keep his temper in check. When your nickname was 'The Man of Steel', it wasn't a smart idea to go around throwing hissy fits. However, this time he felt it well deserved.

It seemed that the medical staff had had some sort of scheduling mix-up. That, combined with a considerable workload and excess of coffee breaks, had resulted in Flash being left unchecked. Danny, the medic who felt responsible for the whole mess, had been assigned to graveyard shift. Luckily, he had come in early out of guilt and alerted the rest of the staff to Flash's condition before any permanent damage could be done.

Flash had bled away nearly four pints of blood, and Superman could not have been angrier. After being told to stay away by the medics, the medics themselves had neglected their duties. It had taken all of his efforts to keep Shayera and John from extracting their own punishments on the doctors. Clark was now in the process of throwing a lecture that Batman would have been proud of.

"He could have died!" He raged, pointing towards Wally's room. "Another couple of minutes, and he probably would have!"

Seeing the chief doctor cringe at his words, Superman did his best to compose himself.

"As soon as he's better, there's going to be an inquiry into this," he promised, looking the doctor straight in the eye. "You're lucky I don't fire you all right now. From now on, I want twenty-four hour supervision in that room. He's not to be left alone again, understand?"

Upon receiving a nod from the doctor, he stormed out of the room intent on finding a place to cool down.

J'onn peered through the window into Wally's room. Although he and Wally had never exactly been close, he felt a strange pain in his chest whenever his eyes fell upon the young speedster. Wally's skin was now pale and sickly in contrast with his strawberry-coloured hair. His normally smiling and youthful face was thin, and his eyes were sunken. It didn't take a psychic to see the torture that the hero was experiencing.

The Martian often didn't know what to make of Flash. When the League had first formed, he had been reluctant to allow someone so young and obviously inexperienced into such dangerous situations. He found Flash's actions both immature and annoying, and had many times accused the boy of not taking things seriously enough.

However, as the years went by J'onn had come to appreciate the speedster's presence. No matter how dark the situation, Flash remained optimistic. He was always willing to cheer his teammates up with a joke or one-liner. You could always trust Flash to tell you the truth, no matter how blunt. His specialty was moral dilemmas. Wally's childlike innocence allowed him to see things rather clearly. J'onn had no doubt that he had always been the moral compass of the team.

But it was more than how much the League needed Wally. They did. It was how much Wally needed the League. From the little J'onn knew about his past, it was clear that Flash hadn't had much of a home growing up. It was apparent to most that Flash regarded the League as his family. He was always encouraging outings together with John and Shayera. He teased Diana and admired Clark. And J'onn himself had engaged in many a game of Brawlin'-Bots.

Now, because of a series of horrible coincidences, Wally lay dying in a cold hospital room. J'onn was more than certain, from Wally's actions, that the scarlet speedster had lost his faith in his friends. And that thought was terribly depressing, no matter what species you were. A part of the League was dying in that bed. And he was irreplaceable.

J'onn heard Diana approach, but made no motion to greet her. He simply continued his vigil of Wally's hospital room.

"How is he doing?" The Princess' voice lacked its usual confidence and bravado.

J'onn refused to look at her, even as she came to stand beside him. "Not well, unfortunately."

Wonder Woman had a disapproving look on her beautiful face. "Are those really necessary?"

J'onn followed her eyes inside the room to the metal restraints around Wally's forearms and legs.

"Regrettably, yes." Came the reply. "We cannot allow him the opportunity to hurt himself again. His last attempt nearly succeeded."

Diana cringed at the mention of the incident. The very idea that Wally of all people could attempt something so horrible was unbearable. She didn't want to consider what would happen if Bruce didn't manage to find a cure.

"I contacted Batman earlier to inform him about the occurrence," J'onn commented, sensing her thoughts. "He assured me that his research into a cure is progressing."

The Amazon smiled wistfully. She knew the Dark Knight was nothing if not confident in his own abilities. In his own mind, he had already accepted that he'd find a cure and would not rest until Wally was better. He could deny any attachment to the young speedster, but nothing could ever stop him from fulfilling his responsibilities.

Inside the room, Wally's eyes scrunched up and he tossed his head to the side. Wonder Woman felt a pang of sympathy as she lifted her hand to rest on the glass separating them from him.

Please, Hera, she prayed. Help him.

Bruce Wayne looked into his microscope and resisted the urge to smash something.

"Another dead end!" He muttered angrily to himself.

Frustrated, he threw the sample away, confident that Alfred would find it and clean it up later. Sighing, he returned to his computer console and typed in his new information. He had to start all over again.

Finding a cure was proving far more difficult than he could have imagined. The hallucinogen's properties were highly complex, even for a brain like his. But he also had to account for Flash's unique immune system and metabolism, which brought him an entirely new range of problems. It wasn't that Batman didn't enjoy a challenge; he simply preferred not to have one of his teammate's lives on the line.

Hearing that Wally had attempted to take his life again in the hospital room didn't help the situation much. He had nearly destroyed his computer when J'onn informed him that the doctors had left Flash unchecked for so long. He resolved to fire the entire medical staff as soon as this mess was cleared up. There was no room for mistakes, especially when Wayne money was footing the League's bills.

Researching a new cure, Batman tried not to let his mind wander to his young teammate, but the urge was too strong. After reading the information he had gathered on the drug, he could only imagine what kinds of hellish torture Wally was enduring. What irked him most was that Flash had been experiencing the effects for well over a week, and hadn't bothered to mention it to any of them.

The cafeteria incident should have tipped me off, Bruce silently berated himself. Truthfully, he had been concerned when Wally, sitting at an empty table, had yelled for no reason. He had intended to speak to Superman about it, but other matters had come up.

He briefly wondered what the hallucinations were in Wally's case. His research showed no pattern in the drug's previous victims, except that nearly all of them were driven insane. Was it something strange, like rabid, purple bunnies? Or was it more realistic? In Bruce's opinion, it was far more horrible to not be able to distinguish between hallucination and reality.

The image of Wally lying dead in a hospital bed woke him from his thoughts. Bruce shook his head. There was no point thinking about it, not when there were more important things to do. If Wally was to have any sort of a chance, he needed to find the cure. And fast.

Okay, apologies all around for the shortness of the chapter, as well as the lack of Wally. This was more of a transition chapter. Rest assured that the next chapter will not only be longer, but will also have a fresh dose of Wally-Angst!

Please review! TTFN!

Keep Smiling! ;)

rogueandkurt