Yay! New chapter! Sorry to keep you waiting so long, but we're getting to the point in the story that I have to make sure details line up and facts are straight. But on a happier note this is the longest chapter so far so enjoy!

I don't own Young Justice

Chapter 7: Complications

(Wally's P.O.V)

No more lying in wait, no more hiding, no more killing in shadows.

It was time to run. He didn't need to take his time to make sure the kills were perfect anymore. He could speed through the kills and still perform them perfectly. A few seconds was more than he needed to get the job done.

He remembered the first set of kills he did, every detail, all thirteen. Funny, those seemed to take him so much longer. He remembered hiding in dark allies and up in thick trees waiting until his victims were alone before he struck. Back then he had to worry about being seen, for some reason he didn't use his speed, and of course without it making sure every detail of the job was done perfectly took a while. Now, with his speed he could take the same amount of care in a far smaller amount of time.

So why wait? Honestly, what was the point of spending a week meticulously planning each and every kill, and when he finally had his victim, he had to take forever to ensure that he wouldn't be caught by security cameras or other people? Why take forever to carefully complete his mission when he could move to fast for the eye to see? He could kill in seconds, and in plain sight. He didn't need to wait anymore. He was unstoppable.

His green eyes flicked back and forth until he found what he was looking for. A young man and woman, sitting closely together on the dock. Newly-weds.

Perfect.

Pulling his goggles down over his eyes, the speedster smiled to himself. He didn't need to sit in the shadows anymore. He didn't need to plan, didn't need to wait. He just needed to run.

Twenty feet.

Ten feet.

Five.

Three.

Two.

One.

The knife flashed.

A needle struck.

Fire sparked.

Finished.

Wally smiled as he sped away, plucking the man's wrist watch as he did so.

The whole job took less than eight seconds, and Wally was already out of the park before the first drop of blood hit the ground.

(Dick's P.O.V)

It was easier than Dick thought to sneak down to the Batcave. Part of him wondered exactly why he needed to sneak in the first place? He wasn't doing anything wrong, on the contrary, he was doing something good for everyone.

Old habit? You used to do a lot of sneaking Renegade.

Dick opened his mouth to deny it on habit before remembering their earlier conversation and continuing on in silence.

Ill intentions or not, as he passed by the kitchen he still paused and listened carefully to be sure Alfred wasn't around. It only took a few seconds to determine he wasn't because his signature humming wasn't floating through the air. After assuring himself that he was in fact alone, he dashed in to get a quick glass of water before hurrying on his way.

When he reached the grandfather clock hiding the entrance to the cave he paused. Was this really the best thing to do? What if that memory was wrong? It felt real enough, but so did dreams while you were having them. Maybe the whole thing was some nightmare his subconscious came up with to torture him? A byproduct of his insanity?

You're wasting time

The other byproduct of his insanity was never silent for long.

Dick did his best to shove his musings to the back of his head as he entered the cave, only to stop short as a muffled voice drifted up from below.

Bruce was down there, granted that wasn't exactly surprising, when wasn't he down here? Still Dick wasn't sure he was quite ready to explain himself yet. Maybe he could get back down to the cells without Bruce seeing him? Well, it was worth a try.

Dick slowly started down the stairs, thanking his parents that he was naturally light on his feet. As Bruce's voice grew louder it became clear that he was on the phone. At first Dick did his best not to listen but as he got closer that became near impossible.

"I'm sure Wally'll update you later"

Wally? What was Bruce doing that involved Wally?

Against his better judgement, Dick attempted to get closer. He slowed his breathing in an attempt to calm his pounding heart, lest his former mentor hear. Bruce had gone quiet, all he could hear was furious clicking. Maybe the call was over? But what about Wally?

"Hello?"

So the call wasn't over.

There was a long pause during which Dick assumed whoever was on the other end was talking. Finally, Bruce broke the silence by letting out a heavy sigh.

"Flash," he started. Ah, so it was Flash on the other end.

"I think I know who's behind this."

Dick's breath caught as he rounded the corner and approached the back of Batman's chair. Bruce knew who did what? His question was answered by the large screen above him. Frozen on the monitor was the image of a man, in a park, with bloodstained clothes and a burning face.

Beautiful

He had seen that before hadn't he? He vaguely remembered Bruce showing him a crime scene photo of a man dead in a park, but there was something more. He briefly flashed back to a body. Or more specifically, him standing over a body, an old man, feeling that same exhilaration he'd felt when he stood over the mother and child.

You killed them

Dick was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn't realize Bruce had started talking again.

"I-I'm not sure how to say it..."

'Oh for heaven's sake Bruce, just say it!' Dick shouted in his head.

"Barry, it's Wally."

Dick dropped the glass.

CRASH

… and it shattered all over the floor. Bruce spun around in the large, black chair, meeting Dick's shocked expression with one of near-panic.

(Bruce's P.O.V)

Dick's eyes were wide, disbelieving.

Bruce was at a complete loss for what to say. He hung up the phone, Flash still yelling on the other end. How much did Dick hear? Or an even better question…

How much had he already known?

Based on his reaction, not much.

Bruce couldn't be sure, but the expression of shock on Dick's face looked real enough, and the boy had always worn his heart on his sleeve if he remembered correctly.

He was so caught up in trying to determining Dick's sincerity, that he didn't realize the boy had been talking the whole time.

"Damn it Bruce!" he slammed his fist on a nearby table; the sound causing the latter to jump. "Why won't you just tell me what's going on!" The boy's breathing was becoming erratic and his eyes were jumping around without actually focusing on anything in particular.

Bruce recognized the growing signs of an impending panic attack and raised his hands in a placating gesture.

"Richard, I need you to calm down."

Dick didn't give any indication that he had heard him, just sagged and clutched the work table until his knuckles turned white. Bruce gave the contents of the table a quick overview, nothing Dick could hurt himself with, just evidence from an old case.

Bruce tried again, "Dick, breathe. Come on. In. Out."

To his relief, Dick attempted to take a deep breath, it was shaky and ragged, but at least he tried. Slowly, very slowly, Bruce approached him the way one would a snarling street dog. He still wasn't sure Dick wouldn't attack him, so he tried not to make any sudden moves.

"Dick?" He placed his hands on the young man's shoulders, Dick flinched a little at the contact but didn't move otherwise. Bruce continued to coach him in breathing exercises, the same ones he had used when Robin was young and suffering from nightmares of his parents deaths. Eventually, the combination of deep breaths, Bruce's soothing voice, and the calming hand rubbing his back began to have the desired effect. Gently, Bruce pulled him away from the table, and led him over to the chair.

"Bruce?" Dick voice was barely above a whisper as he was seated in the large chair, "what's happening to me? What were you talking about on the phone? What is-"

His voice was rising, he was getting worked up again. Bruce interrupted before it could go any further.

"Richard, listen to me. I'll tell you everything I can, but only if you promise to try to stay calm, alright?"

Dick took a moment to respond, finally he laced his fingers together and met the older man's gaze.

"Okay"

(Dick's P.O.V)

Dick waited patiently while Bruce told his story. He started from the beginning despite having gone over some of it on Dick's first night back home.

"Dick, when I brought you back here I showed you some pictures. Do you remember?"

Dick searched his blurry memory, he remembered the pictures, but very few of the details they contained.

You killed them

"So you said," he mumbled.

"Excuse me?"

Dick inwardly laughed, he had to stop talking to himself in the middle of conversations, people will think he's crazy!

"Dick?"

Realizing Bruce was still waiting on an answer, he dropped the small smirk that had started to form on his face and nodded.

"Good, well those occurred about two years ago. Do you remember the culprit?" Bruce's tone was gentle, as if he was getting ready to reveal some awful truth, but Dick beat him to it.

"I did" he whispered. No matter how much he thought about it, saying it for the first time was still a painful experience.

"What did you say?" Bruce sounded surprised.

"I said I did it. I killed them." Dick's voice became as strained as his expression and the last word was barely audible.

"Richard?" Bruce knelt in front of him and forced him to meet his gaze, "there's something I want you to see."

Dick didn't look up. He just stared blankly at his lap until he felt a piece of paper being placed in his hands.

He lifted his eyes questioningly at Bruce who sighed, "just read it."

Seeing as he was getting no answers this way, he did his best to focus on the somewhat wrinkled paper in his hands.

Dear Batman,

Its been a while since we spoke, so I want to make a few things clear. First, I killed those people. All thirteen, I stabbed them, poisoned them, and burned them. I'm not apologizing for what I did, as I can't say truthfully that I regret my actions. This letter is a formality in all honesty. Consider it my confession, though it's more for your sake than for mine, to give you closure. I want to be clear when I say that I have no desire to see you once this case is closed. I want you to consider whatever history we may have had together is over as well. Goodbye Batman.

No regrets,

Renegade

Dick didn't say anything when he finished. He studied the paper, it was his own handwriting, but he couldn't remember writing it. He tried to push as far back in his mind as he could, but the threat of another massive headache stopped him.

"The commissioner delivered that to me about a week after I dropped you off at Arkham. After reading it I wanted to give you some space, after a while I guess I lost my nerve, made excuses." Bruce trailed off a bit toward the end. Dick was slightly surprised at the tone, guilt wasn't usually something you heard from the Batman. But they didn't have time to look back, Dick had questions he needed answered.

"Bruce, I killed those people, I told you that, apparently more than once" he said, indicating the piece of paper in his hands. "So why would you tell Flash that Wally…"

Now it was Dick's turn to trail off, he just couldn't finish that sentence. It was hard enough for him to come to terms with his own guilt, now to think that Wally…

No.

No way. Wally just couldn't have done this, he wouldn't. The fact that Bruce could even suggest such a thing made Dick's temper flare.

Kill him

"Dick, you know that someone's been on a killing spree for the past few months, and that their victims are identical to the ones from two years ago."

"And you think Wally is behind it?!" Dick seethed, the paper in his hands shaking from the tightness of his grip.

As if Bruce sensed he was treading on dangerous ground he held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I don't know for sure that Wally's doing this, but all the evidence does seem to point to him."

Kill him

Dick narrowed his eyes, "He wouldn't do something like this."

Bruce nodded, "I understand how you feel, and believe me I don't want it to be true any more than you do, but right now we need to cover all the possibilities."

Dick was pretty certain Bruce was already sure Wally was guilty and was only saying all this for his sake. Fine! If that was how he wanted to be, Dick would just play along until he convinced him otherwise.

"Even if he is guilty, there's no way he'd do this of his own free will."

To his surprise, Bruce nodded, "yes, that's certainly possible."

Well, if that was the only lifeline Bruce was going to give him, he'd take it. "How can we be sure?"

Bruce hesitated before answering. "Since you got back, I've been wracking my brain for a way to make sense of how two years ago you calmly admitted to murdering those people in cold blood, and now you don't seem to remember much about them except that you did it."

Bruce had stopped talking, however Dick was still waiting for him to get to the point.

"Dick?" Bruce started again after taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "Do you remember when the Light used BioTech to force the League to attack Rimbor?" He waited until Dick nodded before continuing. "Well, we suspect something like that may have happened with you. We were hoping you'd let me scan you, to see if there is any evidence of a chip or the remnants of one. If you-"

"Wait, wait, wait," Dick interrupted, "who is we?"

Bruce looked confused before he must've remembered that this was the first time he'd really talked to Dick about any of this except for his initial night back.

"I called Martian Manhunter yesterday while you were sick. Another possibility I thought of wouldn't require a chip. Perhaps someone was using mind control or holding someone hostage. J'onn said he'd drop by to see if we can unlock any of your memories, provided you consent."

Dick didn't need to think before answering. "Of course you have my consent, I want to know what happened just as much as you do!" He almost sprang out of the chair but Bruce stopped him with a strong arm on his shoulder.

"Hold on Dick, I need to go prep the machine. You stay here it'll only take about ten minutes."

Dick nodded as Bruce moved away, but after several minutes of agitated fidgeting he had to get up and walk around.

His head was spinning. Was he guilty or wasn't he? He wrote the confession didn't he? And how did Wally fit in to all this?

You killed them

Nice how some things never change, but all the confusion in his head was causing it to throb once again.

"Ugh" he leaned back against the worktable from earlier wondering if he would ever remember what it was like not to have a jackhammer trapped inside your skull. In frustration he hit his fist halfheartedly on the table, knocking some papers onto the floor in the process.

Crap.

As he bent down and started gathering them he noticed that they were case reports. Thinking they might be about recent events he leafed through them, hoping for clues. To his disappointment they weren't about the murders at all. In fact, they were quite old. They were documents regarding Scarecrow, who had kidnapped and tortured three members of the city council before Batman had stopped him.

Dick smiled, he remembered that case. He had been experiencing one of his teenage rebellion episodes and thought he could handle Crane all by himself. Well, he had been dead wrong and was held by the villain for two days before Batman found them. It had taken a couple of weeks for him to fully recover, and a couple of months for Bruce to let him back out as Robin, but he had learned his lesson.

Bruce returned just as he was putting the papers back on the table. Bruce quirked an eyebrow at them but didn't say anything about it.

"It's ready if you are."

Dick opened his mouth to reply, but shut it again as a new thought sprung up.

What if their was a chip? How would he cope with the knowledge that some third party could cause him to go so far against his principles, could force him to kill?

You enjoyed it

And if there wasn't a chip? Then he would have to live knowing that he was capable of… he really didn't want to think about it.

"Dick?"

He looked up, cobalt eyes met ocean blue, silently betraying every fear and doubt he had about the process. He was so lost in his own emotions that he didn't register what was happening immediately.

There was a hand, a gloved hand gently stroking his hair while the other rested on his shoulder. The paper dropped from Dick's hands as he brought them up to grip the Dark Knight's cape. He leaned forward slightly until his forehead rested lightly on the armor clad chest, breathing deeply. Grounding himself with the dark, earthy scent that was his safety, that was Bruce. The older man was quiet, content to wait for the young man in front of him to give the signal that he was ready before moving on.

Dick knew he was being childish, hiding his face in Batman's chest like a five-year-old, but right now he needed something solid to hold on to, assurance that Bruce would still be there regardless of what the scan showed. He hadn't realized it before, but being abandoned in Arkham had taken a toll on him. The last thing he wanted was something in the scan to cause Bruce to leave him again. The very thought only made him grip the dark cape even tighter.

You're pathetic

Dick jerked back so violently from the embrace that Bruce stumbled forward a few steps.

"Dick? Are you alright?"

Dick mentally seethed against the voice in his head for ruining the moment. Couldn't he have at least one minute of peace? More than anything he wanted to vent his rage. But he couldn't attack a voice inside his head. So he held it back and waited for the aggravation to pass before standing and facing Bruce.

"I'm ready."

(Bruce's P.O.V)

He was confused. One minute Dick was calm and vulnerable, and the next he pulled back and shut Bruce out again.

What in the world is going on with him? Once again, Bruce had to remind himself of his son's unstable mental state.

He walked Dick down to the infirmary section of the cave, watching for any sign of the boy's previous reluctance to show. But he was stone faced and silent, determined to get this whole ordeal over with.

Well that made two of them.

Dick's resolve didn't waver as he climbed up onto the exam table, nor while he waited on his back as the scanner hummed to life. The only time the mask cracked was when Bruce saw him shut his eyes and inhale sharply as the laser began to move across his body. As the light moved, data began to flow onto the computer display. Bruce sat down next to the table as he scrolled through the abundant results.

He honestly couldn't believe his eyes.

Nothing.

Not one single sign of an implant, nor evidence that their had ever been one.

What were they supposed to do now? He hadn't really been expecting to find anything, but he was almost certain the machine would pick up the remnants of something. It wasn't a malfunction, Bruce had run a quick test when he left Dick for a bit to make sure, the scanner still picked up evidence of the BioTech that the Light had once implanted in him. If the results said that their was no chip, then their never was a chip. How was he supposed to tell Dick?

Said acrobat was now sitting up, staring at Bruce expectantly, hope evident in his eyes.

Bruce couldn't face him. Instead he turned away and turned off the machine.

"Let's call J'onn"

End of Chapter 7

Hmm, no chip? Well maybe J'onn will find something, better hurry though, Wally's speeding up.

Thank you so much to all of you who reviewed, those really do make my day. You guys are awesome! Till next time...