saga/title/fandom: Kaskade
author: Candylyn
rating/genre: (PG-13 for now) - angst, drama, romance
warnings: slash, het, angst, sexual content (eventually), language
summary: Batman realizes Flash is having trouble dealing with the changes within the League. (Slash) Don't like don't read.
comments/disclaimers: I don't own, just going to torture them a bit.
Chapter 2: Sleeping Beauty Awakens
Wally hates hospitals. He also hates doctors. Nurses are cool... as long as they are cute... and don't come packing needles. He hates those too.
He hates doc-speak too. All those big Latin sounding terms that usually translated to "You are sick, take this, get some sleep and slack off for a few days until you fell better."
Usually.
This time, though, Wally wasn't so sure if things would be that simple.
On the upside his head felt better. He was starving. He guessed those were a good things. On the downside, he is certain that the instillation of an I.V. drip and having been quietly moved into the I.C.U. while he slept couldn't possibly be good. Nope not at all.
When he awoke Wally heard a lot of raised voices and terms like outrageous andincompetent being volleyed around like a ball at the beach. Batman's voice was in the mix, darker and more angry than normal. Then there was John's voice. Wally thanked whatever Gods that weren't trying to take over the world this week that John had never been so mad at him to use that tone of voice with him... ever.
Making matters worse was the knowledge that this argument was happening in the next room. A room that was supposed to be sound proof. Yet, he was still able to make out a good bit of what was being said.
He just laid there, listening to the conversation in the next room. He'd gotten good at that when he was little. His folks argued... a lot. Asking them directly what was going on was a big no-no that usually resulted in bodily harm. Better to just listen, grab what little crumbs of conversation he could, let his overactive imagination fill in the blanks and hide whenever his name came up.
Any wonder he's so screwed up?
Soon, new words like misdiagnosis, aneurysm and narrowly averted death started popping up in between screamed obscenities. Wally knew all too well what the last statement meant. He had narrowly averted death, on at least a monthly basis, since he six. Misdiagnosis , he remembered from the S.A.T.s. It means something like the doctors made the wrong call . But what the hell does aneurysm mean? Wally couldn't even begin to spell it much less define it.
Falling back on his imagination-reinforced detective abilities learned in childhood, Wally figures Bats and GL are pissed because the doctors misdiagnosed him and whatever was really wrong with him almost cost him his life. Maybe he has aneurysm; -isms were diseases, right, so maybe aneurysm was an illness. Some kind of cancer in his head. Doctors do give cancers names other than cancer, like leukemia.
Panic.
"Oh God," Wally gasped. He had cancer. He had a tumor... in his head! "Oh God!"
Without thinking, Wally sprang upright in the bed and started fighting with blankets neatly tucked in on the sides. Immediately, the headache from hell was back robbing him of all his strength. The machinery around him started clucking and squawking loudly compounding his pain.
Suddenly, a pair of strong hands were pushing at his chest, "Wally?"
In that instant Wally went completely limp. There was only one person in Wally's universe who's voice could hold that much authority while still managing to calm him, "John?"
"He's coming around," John turned and barked to someone.
Turning back John smiled down at the strawberry blond. "You scared the shit out of me, kid," though his words were acidic his tone was jovial.
"I'm dying," Wally said flatly.
He felt John's hand clutch his. "No," John said sounding almost amused, "you're going to be fine. Looks like that thick head of yours came in handy for once."
He wasn't going to die? "Butwhataboutthecancerinmyhead..."
"Shhhhhh," John whispered as he stroked Wally's forehead in an effort to calm him down. "Not cancer Wally, an aneurysm?" He squeezed the younger man's hand. "Know what that is?"
"Cancerit'scancerand..."
"It's not cancer," John reassured him. "What in the hell are they teaching you at that college of yours anyway?" John groaned. While Wally remained quiet, his expression was one of complete terror and fear.
It was clear the younger man had gotten it in his head that he was dying. While that may have been true several hours ago it wasn't now. Still, John knew he was going to have to take baby steps with his explanations; else Wally might fly into a hysterical fit again. "Look kiddo, you got hit in the head last mission you were on. Remember?"
A few quiet seconds passed as Wally processed the question. Finally he replied, "Yeah, I remember."
"Good. The hit to your head damaged a large blood vessel causing it to burst. That is an aneurysm."
"Not cancer."
"No," John's reply was short and pointed but given with a smile.
Oh, this was blackmail material if ever there was some. When Wally was back up to speed, pun intended, John would never let him live this down. "You need rest, your body will heal itself in time Speedster."
Wally just looked at him, disbelief still coloring his features, "But... can you die from that too?"
John smirked, "Yeah, Hotshot, most can. But your simple assed metabolic rate stopped that from happening. But you're still weak and you could damage yourself again if you go running around like some kind of idiot. Got me?"
"Yeah." Wally's body went completely still again and John helped him recline back onto the mattress.
"Good."
"And it's not cancer?" Wally asked.
"Not cancer," John replied. Half a heartbeat later Wally was asleep again.
John waited until he was certain the younger man was completely asleep before letting go of his hand. He brushed back a few stray red-gold curls from Wally forehead before taking a seat on the window bench near Wally's bed.
The view was breathtaking. The Watchtower was on the night-side of Earth; hovering just above Togo in West Africa. Chance positioning made the Earth look like a ring and the sun like a shining jewel sitting atop it. Another few minutes and they would be passing over North America. Closing his eyes just for a moment John whispered a quiet prayer to a God he rarely speaks to anymore, thanking him for allowing Wally to live to see this view again.
hr
In another room, behind tinted glass, dark blue eyes watch the tender scene unfold. A hysterical Flash claimed down by his ever present and loving father figure, Green Lantern.
The others in the room are forgotten as Batman watches John tend to the young man. First, gently restraining him and calming him. Then explaining the situation with carefully selected words in a firm but kind tone. Finally, John simply watches over Wally as he falls back to sleep, comforted by his "father's" affirmation that he will be fine.
Quiet moments pass. John releases Wally's hand, resting it on the boy's chest. Patting it lovingly before leaving his side to take up position on a nearby window bench.
Batman knows John will not leave Wally's side until the young man is awake and alert and himself again. He will be there for him in the days to come; watching him like a hawk to ensure he doesn't over exert himself.
He wonders if John'll even tuck Wally into bed and read him a bedtime story too. But that is the cynical jealous side of his complex psyche talking now.
Behind him he hears the uncomfortable fumblings of the doctors he and John had been "talking to" before Wally's outburst. Papers being shuffled. Files being stacked. Rubber soles moving across the marble floor. The kind of background noises Batman can no longer block out even if he wanted to.
"Doctors," he hisses without turning away from the glass window, "I assume our position is clear. You are relieved of duty, effective immediately."
"But..."
All arguments against their termination died when Batman's head turned slowly. Narrowed white eyes regarded the group coldly, "Leave... now."
The gathered group of physicians looked to one another. Few were willing to take on the Batman, especially with Green Lantern in the other room. While angry, Lantern had been rational enough to at least listen to their defensive arguments. Batman, on the other hand, had seemed more than ready to say his peace and flush the lot of them out of the airlock without benefit of protective gear. Now he just looked as if he would truly enjoy ripping them limb from limb.
"Very well," one of the two female doctors, Dr. Corbin, stated with her head held high, "but I doubt it seriously that you will be able to replace the entire medical staff. Our termination with you people is final. In the event of a tragedy I kindly ask you not to call upon any of us for service."
He couldn't help the bitter smile. "We already had a tragedyto which you were called to tend to and dropped the ball, Dr. Corbin. We won't make the mistake of doing so again."
His comment was meant with indignant gruffs and sounds of people gathering their belongings in a hurry. Most of their non-League related files and other belongings had already been packed and transported to their private offices and/or homes planet side, so it didn't take them long to gather what they brought to the meeting.
Twenty-seven seconds later they were gone. But the conflict was far from over. There would be Clark to deal with. Their self appointed leader will have a hissy fit when he finds out that Batman fired the entire medical staff without consulting him first.
Fuck him. He can lead the team all he wants but Wayne dollars bank roll this operation and Batman be damned before he'd pay good money to incompetent physicians. Idiots knew full well that Flash's metabolic rate was faster than any human beings. If he came in with a mild concussion they should have realized that it started out much, much worse. He shouldn't have been left alone in any regard. It's clear they are not up to dealing with the medical needs of a team of superpower beings. They had to go.
He knows John and possibly Diana will back him up on it. The others, the newer members, don't have enough pull yet with Clark to carry any weight either way. Still, the last thing he wants is lecture from the brick-from-the-sticks on not making decisions that could effect the team by himself.
With the empty observation room, Batman turns his attention back to the young man asleep in the bed. While he was healing, it was taking a ridiculously long time considering his metabolism. He knows this is a catch 22 situation, the severity of Wally's injuries weakened him and his metabolic rate now causing him to heal slower which will keep him weaker longer.
He'll need watching. John's right, the boy's hard headed. The minute he thinks he is okay he'll be up and in the ice cream again. The damaged area was healing but very slowly, the bleeding had stopped but the new tissue was fragile. If Wally's blood pressure spiked or if he is bumped around too much the tissue could rip causing him to hemorrhage and possibly die.
He knows John will do what he can, they all will. Still, Wally needs round the clock care and monitoring given by someone with medical training that he trusts. Someone that will literally but foot-to-ass if Wally gets out of hand.
Again, the smile on his lips can't be helped as the answer to who should babysit the speedster comes to him.
"Computer," Batman called out.
"Computer on line, Batman."
"Contact Wayne Manor's secure line."
A few moments passed. "Batman, how may I be of service?" Alfred answered.
"Get the guest room ready, Alfred."