Should I be doing disclaimers on these things? Yes? Oops.

I DON'T OWN THIS OKAY? IS JUST THIS ONE GOOD ENOUGH FOR THE REST OF THE STORY OR NO? I'M JUST A REALLY FORGETFUL PERSON OKAY PLZ DON'T SUE ME I HAVE NO MONEY.

It was two days later when Robin walked in on a paniced room full of mentors and doctors.

Batman was keeping people from getting to close. And by people, he meant Flash and Roy.

At least five doctors were rushing around the frantically beeping machines. Robin couldn't see anything past the clearly more than upset adults.

"Batman! What's going on!?"

Everyone but the doctors turned to face him, realizing he was there for the first time. Roy was by his side in a second, dragging him out of the room by his wrist.

"Roy! What- what are you-? Get off! I have to see him! Roy!"

They were out of the room and in the hall when Roy spun on him. Robin saw tears on his face that were still falling.

"Roy?" His voice was small and quiet.

The ginger looked him in the eyes and bent down to his knees. He was looking up at Robin with both hands on his shoulders.

"Rob- " Roy's voice shook and he cleared it. "Dick, listen. You can't go in there right now, okay? Someth-"

Robin shoved his hands away and took a step back. "Don't pull that shit with me. Not you." His own tears threatened to fall. "I just want to know what the hell is going on! Okay?"

Roy nodded and walked over to the chairs lining the opposite wall in the hallway. "C'mere, Dick."

Robin followed and sat next to his friend. Roy rubbed his own face and ran his hand through his hair.

He let out a strangled gasp and finally brought up his head to face Robin.

"Wally tried to kill himself ten minutes ago." His voice was filled with anguish.

Robin's eyes widened in shock. "Oh God. No, no, no, no... Wally..." He stood up and began to pace, not caring of the tears that began to fall.

Roy continued talking, keeping his eyes on the floor. "He... got up when no one was in the room and got the small scissors used to cut stitches off the cart across the room. He cut open his wrists and then passed out against the wall. Flash walked in and almost had a heart attack; he nearly tore the door off its hinges trying to get the doctor."

Robin stopped his pacing and sat back down. He leaned over and buried his face in his hands.

"They're fixing him up now." Roy's voice cracked.

It was silent for a few minutes in the hallway.

"Why?" Robin's voice broke the silence.

Roy sat up straight and looked him in the eyes. "I don't know. I wish I did."

"Me too."

Robin got up and headed to the mountain. There was nothing he could do here.

When everyone asked about Wally's condition, all Robin said was: He's stable.

Liar.

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Robin was back by Wally's side the next day. It was the soonest time anyone besides a doctor or immediate family was allowed in the room. Everyone decided that having at least one person with Wally at all times was best.

Wally's face was set in an angry scowl, like he was dissapointed in himself. Or at the wall on the opposite side of the room. Robin almost missed the blank look.

"Wally?"

His eyes snapped over to meet Robin's so fast he nearly jumped. It only lasted a second before the scowl turned into a full remoresful expression and Wally looked down.

Robin was almost speechless. That was the first time his friend had looked him in the eye in a week. It had been angry, but at least it was something.

"Walls?" Wally responded by shifting a bit and rubbing the new bandages on his wrists. They had tried restraining him, but after he had a panic attack from it, the doctors decided it wasn't for the best.

Robin swallowed. "Listen to me, okay? Can you do that, just this once?"

Wally just moved his eyes up to Robin's emblem on his chest. He took that as a 'go ahead.'

"We miss you. The team, I mean. And Roy. We just want you safe, you know? And after you... "

His voice faltered when Wally closed his eyes in shame and turned his head away.

"I just... I mean- Wally. Please." Wally didn't move. Robin stood up and put his hands on the side rail of the bed. "Just speak to me, say something! Just eat the food they give you instead of shying away! Look me in the eyes for crying out loud!"

He stopped yelling when he realized what his best friend was doing. He was cowering away as far as the I.V. would let him. He was scared. Of his best friend. Robin backed up and made to run, horrified at what he'd just done.

"Wait."

He almost didn't hear the small plea. It sounded like paper being blown away by a small breeze. But there was no mistaking it. Wally spoke.

"Please." There it was again.

Robin turned back around and walked back to his side. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to yell. I just... I'm sorry. For everything."

Wally shook his head. "Not... Your... Fault."

Robin shook his head back. "No, I could've looked harder, I gave up too soon, if I'd just-"

He was silenced when Wally laid his hand on Robin's arm. He brought up his other hand to wipe away the tears on his friend's face.

"Don't cry."

Robin couldn't help it. He sobbed and held Wally's hand to his face. He couldn't see through his tears, but he heard his best friend crying with him.

It was the most emotion Wally had shown in almost a year. And he didn't care, because it was okay. The raven-haired boy had told him so.

oooooooooooooooooo0000000000000000OOOOOOOOOOOOOO000000000000000oooooooooooooooooo

When Wally woke up, the boy was gone. The man in the red suit replaced him. Wally felt comforted in the man's presence, yet still wary at the same time.

The man had more food with him; pudding, his brain supplied; and he reached out to give it to Wally, who shook his head and averted his eyes.

He wasn't allowed to have food. It wasn't for him. It was for people who were worth having real food. He was worth an I.V.

The red man just nodded back and set it aside.

Wally jumped when the man laid a hand on his arm, but he didn't pull back. Pulling away would get him more hurt. And the fact that no one had hurt him yet had no meaning. It just meant they were waiting for him to slip up.

Wally looked hesitantly at the hand on his arm before staring blankly ahead.

Thinking time.

They had removed everything sharp from the room he could use. But they'd forgotten the small mirror near the door. Mirrors could be broken.

The door was never locked.

Wally knew he was fast. He remembered that much. The bad men had reminded him of that every time they told him to try and escape. It was a game they had liked to play. They would leave the door open when they left. After a while, Wally would run out, only to be electrocuted by the collar.

He hated that collar.

Wally knew where his thoughts were going. He knew he would have another panic attack. The last one he'd had was in this room, but the others he had in the cell made him black out. It was nice to wake up and not remember what happened.

There was another room besides this one and the cell. It was the one where bad things happened. Sometimes there was water, and he was drowning on the chair. Sometimes there was the stinging pain of the whip, or maybe the knives. Sometimes there was burning. And sometimes there was pain he could never describe. When a man, sometimes men, would throw him on the ground and hold him down while he screamed and they- and they-

Wally blacked out. And he was happy because of it.

oooooooooo000000000000000OOOOOOOOOOOOO000000000oooooooooooo

When he woke up, the red man was by the door, next to the boy and the... bat man? The doctors were back, trying to see what the problem was.

The only problem here is how crowded it is. Wally didn't like it. His body language showed it, and they backed off. The bat man and red followed after the doctors. Probably to ask what was wrong.

The boy walked over stiffly and sat in his chair. "What happened?" He asked.

Wally looked at the wall. After a second, he whispered, "A lot."

It was the best answer he could think of, but when he looked back at the boy, he was crying.

Oops. Wrong answer.

"I'm sorry."

The boy looked up at his words. "No, no, you have nothing to be sorry for, Wally. You didn't do anything. You did nothing wrong, do you hear me?"

Wally nodded, knowing it was the right answer. He absently wondered why the boy kept calling him that.

He looked back at the wall and zoned out.

Thinking time.

Maybe if he could smash the mirror hard enough, the pieces would fall into his hands. Then he could try again. The needles would have to be gone first, but that shouldn't be a problem. The catheter was the biggest issue, but he'd figure it out. The cast on his ankle would be fine, he'd walked with worse.

He almost did it in the cell, but that was a long time ago. The men didn't want him to die, so they chained him up to the wall.

Wally had almost broken his wrists trying to get out of them. He'd decided the only thing he had to live for was dying. And he fought back one day, tried to stab himself with one of the knives they were using.

They'd broken his ankle for that. It wasn't as easy to be fast on your feet when one of your legs felt like pins and needles, even after Wally had felt it heal. He knew it had healed wrong, from the way he'd been sitting on the cell floor.

The needles hurt, too. They were always filled with something different, but they all caused pain sooner or later. Some made him remember nothing, but from the way he felt afterward, Wally knew what had happened.

Sometimes he was standing, but it hurt his arms. They weren't strong enough to hold him up, and the whip made his concentration fade away after the fifth lash. And that meant his wrists were holding up his entire body weight, not much by that time, but still enough to cause a strain.

But Wally had learned not to complain or cry or make any sort of sound close to discomfort; they would, as they'd put it, give him something to cry about.

And they did. And Wally did cry. And sob. And beg for it to stop. But it hadn't, and his pleas went unheard.

But that was before. Before Wally had been taken here, with these nice, caring people who seemed to love Wally for who he was, no matter what he was. No matter what the people had called him.

The other people, the bad people, had only allowed him clothes because he could have frozen to death. And, again, they couldn't have him dying.

Wally intended to break that tradition. No matter what it cost him.

Because, after all, what is there to lose if you have nothing?

Okay, so I almost confused myself with this question, Why, in Wally's thoughts, did I use his name if he doesn't remember it? WELL LEMME TELL YA. If it were in first person, he wouldn't have used his name because it would be from his point of view. HOWEVER. I used third person limited, and Wally (technically Wallace) was the name given to him at birth, so it is his name in third person. Sorry, just a little plot hole I discovered for myself that needed clearing up. Also I'm a lazy person so I'm not gonna make it first person. Maybe later if someone wants me to...

Hint Hint. Love you all, thank you so much for the feedback! I tried to make this one longer. Keep up those AMAZING reviews, I love to see how much you like the story! Or maybe not like it? Everything is welcome pretty much at this point.