A/N: The final chapter. And I'm really reconsidering doing the other story, so unless I get a lot of feedback on this overall fic, I'm probably going to back down and go to one-shots for these guys.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Toxic

Harper was out of the hospital three weeks later; they had to keep him so he'd stay away from the drugs, but they also wanted him under constant surveillance, making it nearly impossible for Wally to really talk with Roy. About what happened.

Instead of knocking, he just pushed the door open, perfectly aware that Roy was home. He saw the archer sitting on the couch with some chips in a bowl on his lap to replace his usual brandy and cigarette combination. "Hey," came the speedster's voice. There was no denying it: Wally was immensely glad he could finally get to talk to Roy one-on-one so they could clear up exactly what happened. Every time before, Harper had never gone to drugs, but after one time, he was running back to his little bag of heroin.

Blue eyes trailing from the tv to the ginger in the doorway, Roy's usually stony face went soft as putty. "Hey yourself."

He cut to the chase. "Why did you do it?" Wally took one step inside, kicking the door shut softly behind him. "Was it me? Did I do something wrong?" His eyebrows knit in terrified confusion. "I love you, Roy, but if I did something wrong that made you want to kill yourself-"

"Oh God no, Wally-" The bowl of chips was scattered on the floor in a heartbeat as Roy stood up and began to rush to Wally as soon as the tears were bubbling in the younger redhead's eyes. "No, it wasn't about you, I swear." He was still lying. After scaring the kid half to death, putting him through the pain of not knowing, and turning him into an alcoholic and a smoker, Roy still had the gall to lie to him? "It was my fault. I felt guilty, and it hurt, so I tried to drink it away and I smoked one, but it didn't work." He averted his guilty azure gaze from the child. "The heroin worked."

"And nearly killed you." His lower lip was quivering. Quivering. As Kid Flash, he'd seen at least fifty things worse than this situation in his life, but nearly losing Roy had been so traumatic...

"But I'm fine now," he urged. Roy put his hands on Wally's shoulders, his countenance begging for forgiveness even though his words attempted to soothe. "We're getting help now. Therapy, rehab, it'll all be better. We'll be able to be together without being drunk or smelling like smoke."

His stomach twisted up in knots. He liked the smoke clinging to the archer's skin, and he sure as Hell loved the taste of brandy on his breath. Now they were both getting help... Wally's tears threatened to fall. "But I don't want to get better."

This was what he'd turned the boy into. Alcoholic. A smoker. Could've even been a stoner if Roy hadn't nearly OD'd on the shit. They were almost lucky the whole ordeal happened or else Wally could've OD'd just the same. Except maybe he wouldn't have gotten so lucky.

"Wally," whispered Roy, brushing away his lover's tears, "I don't know what I'd do with myself if that had been you on the floor because of too much booze or cardiac arrest or something." It almost felt like his chest was caving in, like the walls were crumbling around him. He didn't want to envision Wally's broken body on the floor, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth, no heartbeat inside his chest, just a cold, lifeless body... "It's better this way."

But now it wasn't just Roy running away from his problems. The drinking had sprouted from a fight with Ollie over the partnership; it had become his solace. It filtered out the bad so all he knew was a blurry world of gray.

The smoking was just another step in the rebellion. He knew it was wrong too, but the self-mutilation it allowed was enough for his protest against himself and the world to begin.

Heroin was another rung on the ladder by the time he got to it; a hit shook off the worst of the day, and a good dose left him bleary-eyed and confused for a while, making him feel even better.

And it was life.

Wally had just begun to run away from his problems.

The drinking made the ache of the new bruises and welts go away. It made everything a numb symptom, but it took too long to get there. He consumed more booze than Roy just to get a decent buzz going. It was hard to forget all the pain.

The smoking was a way to remember what he was doing was wrong, that he could live with it. Watching the smoke twirl off the end gave him time to think about what he was doing, and he was sure that he wanted all of this.

Heroin. If he'd gotten into it... Everything would've gone away. Wally could only figure he would be living in complete euphoria, no pain, no hurt, no emotions. Just a high that he could never come off of.

And maybe that was what dying would be like.

"No it's not." Without waiting for invitation, he buried his freckled face in Roy's warm, broad chest. The washboard abs made the ache in his stomach even deeper. "It's not better this way."

Roy kissed the younger's halo of ginger hair and pulled him in close, feeling his thumping heartbeat against his abdomen. He felt the child shivering in his grasp and could only think of one way to settle him down.

Wally felt the archer push him away for a moment and watched with misty eyes as Roy leaned down just enough so their lips would meet.

Between Wally's wanting and the force of Roy's lips, they could've gone on for hours. The speedster's hand ran up along Roy's finely chiseled abs, tears still streaking down his dappled cheeks. And Roy ran his calloused fingers though the choppy, fluffy hair of Kid Flash and held him tight like he would disappear at any second.

After a few long moments, those same calloused fingers roamed elsewhere, running themselves under his shirt and up and down his back until they found a scar. A fresh scar. A circular scar. A bullet wound, healed over and sealed with scar tissue.

And the sobs shook the child's entire body until Roy stole his voice in his own lips to try and kiss away the pain, his hands running along Wally's pale, beautiful skin just to settle him down. He had to stop crying; Roy felt so guilty when the damn kid cried.

It took about an hour of kissing and whispering reassurances to get the speedster on a calmer level where he could breathe regularly and didn't desperately cling to the archer.

"Wally," Roy whispered after coaxing the boy to the couch, "I'll take care of him if you let me."

"No." His response was firm and definite. Wally's eyes were stony and unwavering. "You can't."

If getting rid of the problem wasn't an option, forgetting the problem was. Reluctantly, Roy let himself fall back into old habits, his voice going low and rough. "I'll get the booze if you get the cigarettes."

Wally's only response was a sick, sad smile.

Their love was a poison, if you could call it that; it was undoubtedly toxic.

A/N: I loved this whole journey. I finally found my YJ OTP. And thanks to you, I now know there are a lot more shippers out there than I originally thought. Thanks for all the support. And as always: review?

~Sky