Young Justice -:- Infection

Author's Note(s): MERRY CHRISTMAS PEOPLE! Thank you so much to Broken Antler in Winter, prettykitty luvs u and Guest for reviewing last chap - I know that there was a bit much exposition to start with, but there's a lot less this time around so hopefully it's a bit better :)

WARNING: The following chapter has some very dark themes (suicide, depression, euthanasia… those bright, sunny subjects…) and a couple of scenes that are quite likely to make you cry. If you are in the happy Christmas mood and would like to stay that way, I would recommend maybe reading this tomorrow…

Though if you are bold enough to continue…

DAY TWO

06.00am – December 25th 2014
Thirty-Seven Hours to Detonation

Mornings were difficult for Barbara. They were humiliating and depressing, and always seemed to go on forever as every menial task took her so very long to complete. She would try and do as much as she could on her own. She would drag herself out of her camp bed and into that cursed wheelchair that Dick always left right next to it. Her unresponsive legs would often get tangled as she twisted round in the seat, so she would have to manually straighten them out.

There was nothing quite as horrific as having a body part that felt as if it didn't belong to you.

She would then wheel down the cold and empty corridors of Wayne Towers with her clean clothes and a towel folded on her lap, heading towards the staff showers. She would always pause for a moment outside of Dick's room, torturing herself a little every day as she opened the door and took a look inside. Artemis wouldn't always be with him - Babs knew that they weren't together - but it still hurt when she saw the blonde archer wrapped in his arms.

She had kinda always had a crush on Dick, ever since she had first met him at some society function her father had forced her to attend. When they had gone to the same school they had grown close, and when she had become Batgirl they had grown even closer. But he just didn't see her that way. Not anymore.

He didn't do it intentionally. Babs knew that. But ever since she had ended up stuck in that chair, the way he looked at her had changed. Instead of respect, it was always a look of sympathy when he helped her into bed at night. Instead of attraction, it was distance as he helped her change, or picked her up when she fell in the shower. He was trying to make it less awkward that he was seeing her at her most vulnerable. He had no idea how much it really hurt her.

Ever since the Outbreak, Barbara had worked out as many ways as she could to become as independent as possible. She wanted to make herself useful, instead of the dead weight that she felt that she was. So she did what she did best with the computers. She learned how to shoot like a pro so that she could defend herself. She continued Wally's work on the cure, just in case. She did as much as she was physically able to do for herself.

She didn't want to ask for help.

The Wayne Tower's staff showers were like the communal ones in a school changing room. It was essentially one room with five showers, the entire thing tiled with something expensive and the spotlighting casting everything in blue. Babs wheeled herself in and closed the door behind her for privacy. But she never locked it. She was all too aware of her own shortcomings after all.

The wheels always skidded a little on the tiles, but she was used to that by now. She made it to the middle shower and turned the faucet so that the water could get warm while she undressed. Once she was ready, she parked the chair and lowered herself onto the tiles, before dragging herself under the torrent. She sat there for a moment, just letting the water cascade over her shoulders, washing away her doubts and fears and clearing her head.

Once she was finished, she stretched up and turned the shower off before heaving herself back over to the chair. But just as she reached for the clean clothes on the seat, her supporting hand slipped from under her on the wet tile. She grabbed instinctively to save herself, but all she managed to do was knock over the chair and she still smacked her shoulder hard into the tiles.

Barbara pushed herself back up again to find the wheelchair had skidded over two metres away, and her once-dry clothes were now soaking up the puddles on the floor. She cursed under her breath and picked the clothes up, but they were well and truly sodden. She couldn't carry them and get to the chair at the same time, so she abandoned them with a growl and dragged her naked body over to the chair. But the brakes had failed, and every time she tried to haul herself up, the chair would slip away and drop her back on the tiles.

She chewed her lip to stop the tears that threatened to fall and focused on her anger. "This is going to be a really shit day," she grumbled under her breath.

It was on the tenth failed try to get back into her chair that Babs gave up. She sat there, exposed, cold, vulnerable and alone, hating herself and cursing the Joker and internally ranting about every crappy thing about her life.

"Babs?" Dick called as he rapped lightly on the door. She couldn't bring herself to use her voice, afraid that a sob would escape instead of words. The door opened slowly, Dick not wanting to intrude. "Babs? Are you alright?"

Barbara considered that question for a moment, before answering with brutal honesty. "No."

Instantly, Dick was by her side, wrapping a dry towel around her shivering shoulders. He let her dry herself, knowing that she hated having that indignity done for her; while he picked up her clothes and fixed her chair. And then he was next to her again, scooping her up in his arms and holding her close. He didn't complain when her wet hair soaked his shirt, nor did he mention the fact that she was naked under the towel. He just lowered her into her seat and wheeled her silently back to her room.

By the time that he had helped her into a dry set of clothes, Barbara had let the tears fall freely down her face. Dick knelt down in front of her chair, and clasped her mother's chain that she always wore around her neck, her parents' wedding rings resting lightly against her sternum. And then he pressed a kiss to her cheek and wiped away her tears with his thumb. "Are you alright now, Babs?"

She nodded and smiled sadly. "What would I do without you, Dick?"

"You'd be fine," he answered with a very watered down version of his old grin. "You're a lot stronger than you think."

14.00pm
Twenty-Nine Hours to Detonation

"So, if this was a normal Christmas, and the past year hadn't happened, what would you be doing right now?" Artemis asked suddenly, breaking their silence and travelled through the deserted streets of Gotham.

Dick quirked a brow at her, a little surprised that she would ask that question. But Artemis seemed to genuinely want to know the answer, rather than just making small talk, so he shrugged. "Bruce didn't really do Christmas. He'd throw a huge party the night before to keep up appearances but come Christmas morning he'd just be a right Scrooge."

"Yeah, but what about you?" she asked, prodding him in the shoulder for emphasis. "You're such a big kid, I bet you go nuts at Christmas."

"Not really," Dick replied self-consciously. "I don't really remember any Christmases before Bruce took me in, and every year after that I would always spend the day with Alfred and Leslie helping out at the soup kitchen in the Narrows."

"Really?" Artemis asked, a little surprised. "A rich kid like you?"

Dick rolled his eyes at her. They both knew that he wasn't exactly the typical spoiled brat of the wealthy variety, but that didn't mean that she didn't like to poke fun at him about his financial status. Ex-financial status. "Money doesn't exactly mean a whole lot here anymore," he muttered as they crossed Finger River, the freezing wind blowing in from the harbour chilling them both to the bone. "What about you? What would you be doing?"

"Yeah..." Artemis drawled unenthusiastically. "Christmas in the Crock/Nyugen family home was not exactly picture perfect. We usually all ended up arguing... if any of them even showed up for the dinner I would cook... Let's just say there was never a good one."

Dick wrapped an arm around her shoulder and smiled down at her. "So.. this Christmas, hanging out with me... tracking down survivors while time ticks down to a huge bomb strike in a city full of zombies... this is an improvement for us, right?"

Artemis grinned and hugged him back. "Oh hell yeah! Best Christmas ever."

"Well then, Merry Christmas, Arty," Dick said as he pressed a kiss on her hair. As buildings began to loom over them again once they crossed over the bridge, the pair of them parted as both of them went back to being on alert.

"This is the last place, right?" Artemis asked as they entered the once-clean streets of the Upper East Side, studying the cold, empty houses warily. The Infected may have been nocturnal, but that didn't mean that they never came out in the daylight. "Because rich people houses freak me out."

Dick threw her a sideways look and smirked. "You got something against the formerly wealthy?"

"Not particularly," she shrugged, eyeing a particularly big renovated brownstone suspiciously, as if it might grow legs and chase them. "I just don't like their houses. They're unnecessarily huge and full of pointless junk and way too many shadows. It's like the ghosts have more personality than the owners."

"Wayne Manor creeped you out then?"

"Big time," Artemis replied, shivering at the memory of the massive house waiting outside of the quarantine zone. "It was those old portraits with the eyes that follow you and the suits of armour that always looked moments away from killing you. Didn't it scare you when you first moved in? You were like, nine, right?"

Dick shook his head. "Not really. I mean, I did grow up in a circus. There were plenty of freakier things at Haly's, trust me."

Artemis studied him like a psychiatrist. "Hmmm… I'm beginning to understand why you're so messed up…"

Dick just rolled his eyes at her, and then snapped to attention when he heard something rattle from down an alleyway. He listened for a moment, but the noise never sounded again. He looked back at Artemis to find the archer had notched an arrow in a millisecond. Slowly, she lowered her bow, though the caution never left her grey eyes. "It's just something moving in the wind," Dick muttered.

"You know what, even when we get out of this hell hole I'm still going to be jumping at every noise," Artemis whispered as she scanned the area just to make sure. "They're gonna have me locked up in the loony bin for paranoia or something."

"Anything's better than here," Dick replied. "Come on, the last refuge is just up here."

The two of them had spent the whole morning going to all of the safe houses that they knew of where uninfected refugees were holing up. Every time they were met with cries of outrage and fear as they told the people left of Gotham that the Government was going to level the city. That initial anger was generally followed by resignation, until Dick started telling them of their plan to escape.

It was the first time in a long time that the two heroes had seen hope in the faces of the people.

They had found a couple of demolition experts among the survivors who said that they would know the best way to blow the tunnel and volunteered themselves to help. In every group of refugees, there were always a few among them that had designated themselves as the protectors or fighters of the group; and soon Dick and Artemis had amassed themselves a small army willing to defend the others while they blew the tunnel. Dick couldn't believe how well the plan was coming together.

He was beginning to think that they might actually have a chance of pulling this off.

But then he walked straight through the decimated defences of the last refugee stronghold, and his good mood vanished. A group of fifty-three uninfected had been living out of the manor house, but he was pretty sure that they were anymore. Dick had always figured that they were pretty safe. The house sat on a big plot of land surrounded by tall wrought iron fences that had been topped with razor wire. Across the grounds were loads of booby-traps and pits… even the occasional landmine. And that was before you even got to the manor's state of the art security system.

And yet as he and Artemis walked through the once-beautiful, now-deadly, garden they could see how an Infected horde had bypassed it all. Over a dozen were caught in the traps; some even still alive and whining at them pitifully. Artemis put them all out of their collective misery with her crossbow. "How far do you reckon They got?" she asked quietly as she silenced the last one.

Dick saw the wide open front door and sighed. "All the way."

Artemis followed his line of sight, her eyes widening in horror. They had only been to this safe house a couple of times, finding that the occupants were pretty self-sufficient and exceedingly well-armed (as it turned out, the previous owner of the house had been a military nut…) and figuring that their help was better served elsewhere. Never had they ever expected the Infected to take them on. They definitely hadn't expected them to win.

"Let's check for survivors," Dick suggested as he climbed the front steps, a knife already in his hand. "Eyes open. There could be some of Them left."

Artemis nodded and drew her bow, arrow notched and ready. It wasn't long before they came across the first of the bodies. Dick recognised Jerry Henelly amongst the dead, a GCPD Lieutenant before the Outbreak who had become the leader of this safe house. The further into the manor that the two of them explored, the more bodies that they found. The refugees had been completely overrun. The attack must have happened fast, when they were least expecting it – very few of the victims had been armed and most of them were in their bedclothes.

"It happened early this morning," Dick surmised as he knelt down beside one of the bodies and took a guess at time of death. He looked around and spotted the mother from the day before that he had witnessed killing her infected child. "That woman was at the aid drop yesterday. She was one of the last to leave."

Artemis furrowed her brow. "You think that They followed her?"

"I think that it's possible," Dick replied as he stood up again and studied the damage. "This attack looks planned, co-ordinated…"

"But the Infected don't think," Artemis pointed out. "That's the whole point of the virus, right? It destroys higher brain function…"

"Initially," Dick agreed. "But They've evolved since the Outbreak. They started growing teeth and claws, and now… now I think They're getting smarter. Learning."

Artemis rolled her eyes. "Well that sounds great. Good thing that They'll all be gone tomorrow night, I don't even want to know what They'll develop next."

Barely perceptible above the sound of the wind buffeting the building, Dick could just make out the light patter of footsteps on the hardwood floors. Instantly he was on alert, his eyes darting to each of the entrances into the hall that they were in. Artemis was quickly behind him; her shoulders pressed against his back as she tried to decide where to aim her bow. "Where's it coming from?"

Dick focused his senses as he had been trained, but the echoing around the manor prevented him from pinpointing where the footsteps were approaching from. "Don't know."

"See, this is why I hate rich people houses!" Artemis hissed, just as the first of the Infected poured into the hall. Immediately, arrows and knives were flying as the two heroes tried to hold back the horde. But the Infected had the advantage of superior numbers and soon they were being overrun.

Dick drew the twin knives that had replaced his escrima sticks a long time ago and resorted to close range fighting. He ducked and weaved and slashed, all the time aware of Artemis holding her own as she used the combination of shooting her crossbow and battering with her compound bow. But it quickly became very clear that this was a battle that they could not win. "There's too many!" Artemis yelled over the snarls and growls of the Infected.

"Find a way out!" Dick called back as he ran up the wall, flipped, and landed behind two dock workers. He skewered them both through the spine, and then pulled the knives out just in time to slash the throat of a woman about to claw his back. "High ground!"

Another man appeared on Dick's right, and he made to backswing his blade into the man's chest. However, the man caught his wrist and dug his claws into Dick's flesh, making the hero drop his knife. A young girl in a supermarket uniform grabbed his other hand as he tried to stab the man clawing his wrist, and then both of them sunk their teeth into the thick leather of his jacket. However, instead of hitting flesh, the two Infected found the armour plated arm-guards Dick had sewn into the fabric.

An arrow sprouted out of the checkout-girl's head, releasing her grip on the hand that was still armed. Instantly Dick slashed at the man, who quickly stopped gnawing on his jacket and danced out of range. And then while Dick was distracted with the five or so other Infected that really wanted to eat him, the man simply watched.

"Need a hand, Dickie?" Jason called as he dropped from a line attached to the ceiling and offered a hand that Dick quickly took. It was as they were propelling upwards, that the man made his move. He jumped, higher than should have been possible, and sunk his claws into Dick's jacket. Reacting instinctively, the hero kicked the man hard enough to loosen his grip and drop him back down to ground level.

Once they were high enough, the two former-Robins swung the rope to give them the momentum needed to flip onto the balcony that overlooked the hall of seething Infected below. Artemis was already there and then the three of them were running through the upper-level of the manor. They headed towards the window that Jason had used as an entrance, the opening right next a mature cherry tree that they scaled down.

They didn't stop until they had left the Upper East Side behind them and climbed onto the rooftop of a convenience store in Coventry. It was then that Dick realised that he didn't feel so good. His head was spinning and it was taking him way too long to catch his breath.

"Were you following us?" Artemis demanded of Jason, but Dick couldn't really hear them.

"Well, couldn't have you leaving town without me now, could I?" Jason retorted. "And besides, I just saved your ungrateful ass!"

"You're the ass here, Todd!" the archer yelled right back.

Dick tuned them both out completely as he felt the blood running down his sleeve and dripping from his fingertips onto the roof. Apprehensively, he slowly looked down at the wound just inside his elbow, right between the two armour plates in his jacket. He ran tentative fingers over the jagged edges of the deep wound, confirming one of his worst fears. It was a bite mark. He was…

He squeezed his eyes shut as he reached into his jacket and drew that gun. The cold metal felt far too heavy in his hand. He clicked the hammer back, the echo sounding far too loud.

"Grayson?" Artemis called uncertainly.

Could he do it?

May 16th 2014
Seven Months Earlier

"Just put him out of his misery already," Jason insisted as the pair of them listened to Bruce Wayne's groans of pain and agony from the lab down the hallway of Wayne Tower. "There's hardly any of him left by now anyway. Why put him through this?"

Dick chewed his lip, and then flinched as Bruce screamed. "There… there's still a chance… Wally…"

"Has been working on that cure for three months now," Jason finished. "Even if my some miracle he did manage to complete it before Bruce is totally brain dead, it's already too late. The virus has already done its work, Dick. Face it. Bruce is gone. You've just got to go and make it official. Pick whatever 'humane' way you want, just stop his suffering."

"I-I can't…" Dick stammered. "Not when he's still…"

"When he's still Bruce?" Jason demanded incredulously. "Are you really that selfish Grayson? You're gonna wait for him to turn completely? You're gonna let him go through hours of torture as his brain slowly dies just so that you don't have to look him in the eyes when you do it? Will that make it easier, you reckon?"

Dick shook his head, but couldn't find the words to actually deny it. "I'm not like you, Jay! I can't just be all cold and put a bullet between his eyes!"

"Then let me do it!" Jason retorted, un-holstering one of his guns threateningly. "If you want to keep your angelic hands clean so damn bad then step aside and let the blood soak mine!"

"Like Timmy's?" Dick asked, purposely stepping in Jason's way and keeping him from storming into the lab where they were keeping Bruce.

"The replacement?" Jason snorted derisively. "That was a mercy!"

Dick gave Jason a disgusted look. "He had only just been bitten!"

"Exactly!" the second Robin yelled. "He didn't have to go through this! Aren't you glad that you didn't have to listen to that brat's screams, huh? Don't you get it Grayson? The moment that they get bit, they're already lost. All you're doing is clinging on to false hope and putting them through an unnecessary hell."

They glared at each other in silence for a moment, as Dick tried and failed to swallow the truth in Jason's words. "It's not false hope," he said eventually.

"You're hopeless. And the worst part is, you don't even realise it," Jason huffed in disbelief. "You know what – you can stay here and listen to him then, because I can't. You remember as you watch him turn into one of those things that this is entirely on you."

Dick closed his eyes in frustration as he listened to Jason's footsteps recede and the door slam behind him. He took a deep breath to try and get his racing thoughts and turbulent emotions under control, psyching himself up to go and see the man who had become a second father to him.

"He's wrong you know," a sultry voice broke through his thoughts.

Dick blinked at the woman who had just materialised seemingly from nowhere. Selina Kyle, once known as the infamous Catwoman – sometime enemy, sometime ally to Batman – looked at the younger hero sadly. She was dressed classily, as always, but Dick could see the redness in her eyes from where she had been crying; the only crack in her near perfect mask of indifference. "Is he though?"

"Yes," Selina insisted. "You know how stubborn Bruce is. He'll keep himself together long enough for West to finish the cure. He keeps things so deeply repressed anyway the virus probably can't even find most of his memories to erase."

Dick gave small smile, though it quickly vanished. "Am I just being selfish? Making him go through this just so that it will be easier in the end?"

Selina stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. "No, Dick. You're not being selfish. You're holding onto the hope that there won't be an end. There is nothing wrong with having hope, Dick."

"Even if it's false?"

Selina gave him a hard look, vaguely reminding Dick of his mother when he used to get in trouble as a kid. "It is not false hope. There is a chance. I don't care if it's a long shot – I am betting on that chance."

Dick's eyes dropped to the carpet as he wondered if he could believe that strongly that things would work out. He had always been logical, relying on what he could see; and the facts were telling him that that long shot was in no way a safe bet. So if he was losing hope in that slim chance… why couldn't he do what his logical mind was saying he had to?

"I… I care about him, Dick," Selina muttered hesitantly, as if afraid that her admittance to her feelings would somehow be overheard and used against her. "And I care about you too. I know that neither of you deserve this, but that's life. It's just a series of crappy situations – how you deal with them is what makes you who you are. You're a good person, Dick. You'll do the right thing."

But was there even a right thing to do in this situation? Dick thought to himself as Selina disappeared as silently as she had come.

Reluctantly, Dick started walking towards the lab; hearing Jason and Selina's words echoing around his head, the cacophony mixing with Bruce's cries of pain. It was impossible to think straight as guilt, anger and indecision raged within him, the apprehension making him feel physically ill as his feet carried him closer to his destination.

The automatic door opened with a hiss as Dick stepped across the threshold into one of the most advanced labs on the planet. Everything was sterile white and chrome and the room always smelled a little odd because of all the chemicals. Hunched over one of the desks was Wally, his red hair dishevelled and a couple of days' worth of growth stubbling his chin. All around him was a mess of organised chaos of apparatus, scribbled notes and samples, as his hands moved at super speed across the desk.

Along one wall was a large observation window with a view into the examination room that neighboured the lab. Visible through the glass was a contraption like a dentist's chair. Strapped to it was a writhing Bruce Wayne. Dick had to drag his eyes away, not wanting to see his guardian of eight years like that.

"Hey…" Dick began but was instantly cut off.

"No it's not ready," Wally snapped. "Trust me; you would know if it was. I'd be running around in celebratory circles and singing at the top of my voice. As I am not doing that, it's pretty safe to say that no, it's not ready."

Dick bit back the angry retort that his currently short fuse wanted to yell back, knowing that his best friend was under a lot of pressure. Ever since the Outbreak, Wally had become increasingly withdrawn as his obsession with the cure grew, but Dick had learned to forgive his friend for his tirades. It would do no good for Dick to start an argument now. Wally was that outside chance that they were banking on after all.

"Right," Dick muttered instead. He chewed his lip for a moment, before forcing himself to walk up to the door beside the observation window, his hand resting on the cool metal of the handle.

"Hey, Dick," Wally called, prompting the dark-haired teen to look back. For the first time in days, Wally's hands were still and he was turned away from his desk. His exhaustion-ridden green eyes met Dick's blue, and for a moment it was if they had never grown apart these last few months. "Good luck."

Dick nodded, and then slowly opened the door and stepped across the threshold. He let it shut with a subdued click behind him and then leaned back against it, not wanting to get any closer. Dick studied Bruce from a distance, his heart breaking as he saw what his father-figure and mentor had become. As he watched, Bruce quietened down, his breath coming out in pained gasps. His wrists were rubbed raw from fighting against the restraints, and his teeth were stained red from where he had bitten his tongue to quell some of his screams.

It took a good five minutes for Bruce to even realised that he was there, which was nothing like the Bruce that Dick knew. He looked over at his ward, a spark of recognition flashing in his paling blue eyes. "Dickie…?"

Dick blinked back tears, and forced his voice to come out level. "Yeah, Bruce, it's me."

"I remember that day…" Bruce muttered distantly, his head turning away so that he could stare at the wall. "The only reason I remember your name."

Dick didn't know what to say to that, so he just said nothing, not trusting himself not to breakdown right then and there.

"I remember a Barbara and a Jason…" Bruce continued. "Remember the bad days. I remember the fucking Joker. He shot her. Killed him. Yes. I remember the Joker. Don't remember the name of my first pet, but I remember that psychotic asshole…"

"It was Great Dane called Titus," Dick found himself saying, as if he could somehow give Bruce his memories back to him. "I wanted a dog when I was ten, and Alfred told me about yours. Then I went running into the cave to tell you that I wanted a big dog too so that I could call it Titus the Second, and that its codename would be Bathound. For some reason though, you didn't go for it."

Bruce chuckled roughly, as if he had forgotten how to laugh properly. "I don't remember that," he said after a moment, his voice full of melancholy. "I don't remember anything good. All that's been taken away. Now I've just got the darkness."

They fell into silence for a while, the void only broken by Bruce's low groans and laboured breathing. After a few minutes, Bruce called Dick closer. The teenager hesitated for a moment before he grudgingly took the few steps between them. The moment he was in reach, Bruce grabbed Dick's wrist, making the young boy flinch in surprise. "I've got nothing left, Dick. There's nothing left for a cure to save…"

"I-I can't!" Dick recoiled at the implied suggestion, but couldn't get free of Bruce's iron grip on his wrist. "Bruce, please…"

"Just give me the means to do it myself," Bruce pleaded, his once blue irises now pure white as the virus worked its way through his system. Dick stared down at his guardian in horror, not able to believe what he was hearing. No matter what, the Batman never quit. But then again, there wasn't a lot left of the Batman. Bruce probably didn't even recall his alter-ego. "There's a gun in Lucius' desk, second drawer down on the right. Just leave one bullet in the chamber, untie my hand, and walk away Dick. Please."

Dick shook his head. "N-no… Bruce I c-can't!"

"Dick, please. Let me do this," Bruce begged – and since when did Batman beg? "Before… before I forget how. Before I'm gone completely."

"Bruce…"

"Please. Let it be on my terms," Bruce's grip on Dick's wrist was getting painfully tight, and Dick could feel himself panicking. He was hyperventilating and sweating and desperately wanted to be anywhere but there. He couldn't do this. He couldn't deal. He couldn't be responsible. "Please, Dickie…"

"I'm sorry…" Dick whispered as he wrenched his arm free and staggered backwards. "Oh god, I'm so sorry! I can't!"

Before he had even made the conscious decision, Dick found himself running. He escaped the constraints of the lab, missing the remorseful look Wally flashed his way before the dark-haired teen vanished through the door. He collided into Selina in the hallway, but didn't stop to apologise. He didn't know where he was going; all he knew was that he had to get away. He barrelled through the stairwell door and took the stairs two at a time, not stopping until he had slammed through the roof access door and he realised he had nowhere else to go.

The air was thin and cold that high up, and strong wings mercilessly buffeted Dick as he slowly stumbled right up to the roof edge. He was all too aware that one strong gust and he would be taking a long trip to hell. He wouldn't even know when he hit the concrete. It would just end.

Dick looked down at the street so very far below and wondered, if he had to… if he was in Bruce's position… if it was the best option…

Could he do it?

15.00pm
Twenty-Eight Hours to Detonation

Dick pressed the barrel to his forehead and curled his finger around the trigger. He was vaguely aware of Artemis skidding onto her knees in front of him, her eyes widening when she took in the bite wound on his arm and put two and two together.

Could he do it?

"Dick, please don't," Artemis murmured, her eyes wet with unshed tears. "You don't have to… Babs… Babs has been working on the cure… maybe…"

That's what they said every time. They had argued it when Tim had been bitten, long after Jason had put a bullet in his twelve-year-old skull. It was the long shot when Bruce was begging for it to end, before he had gotten free and taken Selina's life. It was what Wally had said as he had tried to save himself before Artemis had been forced to kill him as well.

Every single time it had never worked. Every time one of them was forced to get blood on their hands. Dick knew that Wally's last moments haunted Artemis every time she closed her eyes. Hell, he saw Bruce's face every night – that moment when he had been forced to make a choice. He was sure even Jason felt bad about Tim…

It was better, for them, if he just did it himself. That was why he kept the gun on him in the first place. The gun that he had used to kill Bruce. One bullet in the chamber.

But could he really do it?

"Please, Dick," Artemis pleaded as she lightly placed a hand over his and worked to gently loosen his grip on the weapon. "Please… give me the gun…"

Dick closed his eyes and focused everything he had on pulling the trigger. But his finger refused to co-operate.

He couldn't do it.

"I'm sorry…" he whispered as he allowed Artemis to take the gun away from him. She threw it aside as if it were a hot coal that hurt her to touch, and then she wrapped Dick in a tight hug, burying her face against his shoulder. "I tried… but I can't…"

Dick felt Jason move from where he had been frozen on the rooftop, the second Robin covering the distance between them in a moment and placing his own gun flush to Dick's head. Artemis felt Dick still in her arms and pulled away as she heard the click of the hammer. "Jason, no…" she breathed as she looked up at him.

Dick couldn't bring himself to find the words to save himself. Logically, he knew that if he couldn't take his own life, someone else would have to. Perhaps it was better to do so sooner rather than later. And maybe Jason… the only one of them who was a killer before the Outbreak… maybe he was the best one to do it. Maybe he would be better able to deal with the fallout.

"You really want to kill him?" Artemis asked darkly, almost daringly, and Dick could sense the slight hesitation in Jason's trembling gun hand. "You really want to kill another brother?"

"Someone has to…" Jason replied, but his voice lacked its usual conviction. "If not now…"

"Babs is working on the cure," Artemis said forcefully, though both boys could hear the undertone of desperation in her voice. She climbed to her feet and stood next to Dick's kneeling form. She put her hand on Jason's gun arm and pushed it down. "As long as there is a chance, I'm not letting anyone kill him."

Jason glared at her as he holstered his weapon. "Have it your way."

18.00pm
Twenty-Five Hours to Detonation

Barbara ran the computer simulation one more time, just in case. She watched as the program applied her latest version of the cure to a hypothetical subject, her eyes reading the data faster than it was being recorded. Then, just as it had the first time, the screen flashed red.

EXPERIMENT FAIL

Frustrated, Barbara dropped her head onto the keyboard, several keys sinking under impact and making the computer beep in annoyance.

"I don't think that's how you're meant to use a keyboard," Jason quipped as he leant against the doorframe of the lab.

Babs flashed him an evil look that would have made a lesser man quiver in fear. "I thought that you had run away like you always do Todd. You sticking around this time?"

Jason shrugged. "I haven't decided yet."

Two floors down, Artemis had locked herself and Dick in the panic room where they had kept Wally in his final hours last time. The moment that the three of them had walked in two hours ago, Babs had known something was horribly wrong. She had taken one look at the bloodied bandage on Dick's arm and the defeated expression on his face – a look that she had never seen before – and she had known. They were this close to being free of this nightmare, but some vindictive deity just had to hit them with one last tragedy.

She was beginning to wonder if this would ever be over.

"So, what are the chances of this working?" Jason asked as he sidled up to her desk and leaned down to look at the computer screen.

Babs sighed heavily. "I… I don't know. Because of the new additions of teeth and claws to the transformation process, the virus is progressing slower than before, which is…"

Which is what? Good? Yes, it gave them a little more time to work with, but it also meant that Dick would have to suffer for even longer. They had never observed the transformation process of the newer evolution of the Infected. They didn't know when the fangs would grow. They didn't know how the claws mutated from normal fingers. Yes, they had more time. But while Babs was working on the cure… Dick was going through that…

"Different," Jason finished for her.

"Why didn't you kill him?" Babs asked, seeking out Jason's eyes and holding them.

"You sound like you wanted me to," he replied accusingly. Babs made no move to either confirm or deny it, and Jason sighed. He looked away, suddenly finding the desk surface absolutely riveting. "Artemis stopped me."

Barbara watched the younger boy as he deftly avoided her gaze. "Why do I get the feeling that that's only half the story?"

The two of them had never really gotten along. Jason had always been so different from her and Dick. He had come from a tough background; with a criminal father and a drug addict mother, he had been raised with a completely different set of ideals. Hell, Bruce had found Jason trying to steal the wheels off the Batmobile. He was an angry kid with a whole slew of issues. And when he had died and came back? Those issues got multiplied tenfold.

But now Babs was seeing a side of him that she hadn't even thought existed. He looked his age. Young and uncertain and divided. "What's the real reason, Jay?"

Jason glanced at her, as if judging whether or not he could be honest with her. "I don't know. I… I know that I'm right. That what I did was a mercy… that it had to be done…"

"You mean what you did to Timmy?" Babs asked, making the younger teen blink owlishly at her. "You said 'what you did was a mercy'."

"Oh…" Jason murmured. "I… I… guess. I didn't really think about it then. I just saw that the kid had gotten himself bit, and I just reacted. But with Dick… it was… different, for some reason."

"Maybe because you actually like Dick," Babs suggested. "It was no secret that you resented Tim for replacing you. And after what happened, everyone knows that you hated Bruce. But Dick…? I think you respect him."

Jason just shrugged non-committedly.

Barbara watched him for a moment, waiting to see if he would talk anymore, before returning her focus back to the cure. She barely paid Jason any attention as he found himself a chair and pulled it up to sit next to her. They sat in companionable silence for a while, purposely distracting themselves from thoughts of their friend going through torture two floors below.

After nearly twenty minutes, Jason eventually broke the silence. "Are you going to go see him?"

Babs shook her head, not taking her eyes off of the screen.

"Why not?" Jason asked. "I know that you're busy and everything…"

"I don't want to," Babs cut him off, her voice wavering slightly. "I don't want to see him like that. That's not how I want to remember him. I still see Wally… when he was starting to forget… I don't want to see Dick… disappear."

Jason nodded understandingly, and didn't push the issue any further. For that Barbara was grateful. She returned her focus to her work, though part of her already knowing that it was useless.

21.00pm
Twenty-Two Hours to Detonation

Artemis pressed herself against the wall, curling up and making herself as small as she possibly could. Opposite her, Dick was screaming and thrashing about like a wild animal trapped in a bear trap. He threw himself back against the wall, and Artemis winced as she heard his shoulder pop out of place from the force of the hit. He then dropped to the floor, his screams quieting to pained moans as he clawed at the tiles.

It was horrific to watch, but no matter how much Artemis wanted to run away, she knew that she couldn't leave him. She needed him to remember her for as long as he could. She needed to still be able to see Dick behind the ferocity of the transformation. She couldn't face the fact that he was fading away with every minute that passed.

She was neck deep in denial.

After a few minutes of listening to his laboured breathing gradually slowing to something a little more normal, Artemis finally found her voice. "Dick…? Dick… are you…?"

She was going to say 'alright', before she realised what a stupid question that was. Slowly, so as not to startle him, Artemis pushed herself onto her hands and knees and crawled the two metres between them. She rested a gentle hand on his shoulder, and when he didn't react, she felt brave enough to brush the bangs away from his face.

He blinked up at her, the blue of his eyes completed faded to white, and Artemis felt her heart skip a beat. He was so far gone. Maybe… maybe she had been wrong to… stop Jason…

"Temis?" Dick slurred her name as if he couldn't quite remember how to pronounce it. "What'stime?"

Artemis furrowed her brow in confusion at the random question, but she dutifully checked her watch regardless. "8.15."

"Lessth-aday…" Dick whispered, and Artemis realised that he still remembered that Gotham was going to be destroyed tomorrow night. "You've'got to save'em… Arty. Theplan…"

Artemis tried for a sardonic smile, but it didn't reflect in her grey eyes. "You think quite a bit of yourself, don't you Grayson? You really think that I'm gonna let the plan fall apart because…"

She trailed off, realising the only that she could end that sentence.

Suddenly Dick cried out and clutched at his head, making Artemis scuttle back in surprise. He pressed his forehead against the cold tile floor as if he could pressure the pain away, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. He bit his lip to stop the scream, but his newly sharpened teeth just shredded it, spilling blood down his chin.

Artemis reached out to comfort him, but he shied away from her touch and dragged himself over to the corner. He looked like a small child trying to hide away from some monster, his arm covering his head protectively, and his knees curled close to his chest. Artemis crawled over to the wall next to him, mirroring his position so that she could see his face pressed against the wall.

"Idon't…" Dick muttered abruptly, his face screwed up in concentration as he struggled to form a sentence. "Don't'member… theirnames…"

"Whose names?" Artemis asked softly.

"I see'em…" he continued as if she hadn't spoken, his eyes not meeting hers. "Theykeep… falling. Againandgain… theirnames?"

Artemis surmised that Dick was talking about his parents, and realised that he was reliving the day that they had died over and over again. His memories were slipping away, but the one that stuck around the longest was that one. How could she have put him through this?

"They're your parents," Artemis whispered, her voice breaking a little. "They were called John and Mary Grayson. You were trapeze artists at Haly's circus."

There was no sign of comprehension on Dick's pale face. His white eyes were unfocused and his breaths were coming in shallow gasps. He started rocking like a mental patient, his vulnerability making Artemis' heart shatter. This wasn't like Dick. He was always strong, sarcastic, cheeky, charismatic… He was the anchor that had kept her grounded when her emotions had threatened to sweep her away after she had lost Wally.

Tears beginning to fall down her cheeks, Artemis crawled back to the opposite wall and leant against it. She pulled out Dick's gun that she had picked up from the rooftop, feeling the weight of the icy steel in her hands. One bullet in the chamber.

It would be a mercy. She knew that. But she still couldn't do it.

Just like Dick had been unable to kill Bruce. Just like she had been unable to kill Wally. Just like they had all struggled to kill the Infected in the beginning.

They weren't killers. They were heroes. She couldn't murder anyone.

Only in self-defence.

00.00am
Nineteen Hours to Detonation

Jason slowly walked down the corridor towards the panic room, not entirely sure why he was. When he had killed 'the replacement', he had run away for two weeks, hiding out in some old factory down by the docks. When Dick had refused his help in putting Bruce out of his misery, he had disappeared for three days. When Wally was going through the change he had gone out hunting and hadn't come back for over a month.

But this time, he had stuck around. He didn't know why. Maybe Babs was right and he just liked Dick more than the others. When he had first taken up the mantle of Robin, Dick was the one that had trained him while Bruce was being his usual broody self. Dick had become like a brother to him – they sure as hell argued like siblings.

But Jason didn't usually go for something as trivial as sentimentality. Emotions, feelings… that was Dick's forte. Jason was meant to be the coldblooded killer brought back from the dead. He didn't get attached.

So why was he still here? Why wasn't he off waiting for the fallout to pass? Why was he going to visit his dying brother?

Why did he want to say goodbye?

Jason hesitated briefly at the door, before he growled at himself to grow a set and typed in the passcode. He closed the door behind him, finding himself in a small room cast in the low yellow glow from the battery powered lights. Near the door, Artemis was curled against the wall, her arms wrapped around her drawn up legs and her head resting against the doorframe. She had fallen asleep, though the gun was still held ready in her hand.

Stealthily, Jason stepped past her and knelt down beside Dick who was tucked in the far corner. Blood stained his chin from where his fangs had split his lips. His hands were curled into tight fists against his chest, his new claws digging into the flesh of his palms as if he had stubbornly tried to prevent them from growing.

"Dickie?" Jason whispered, careful not to wake Artemis. Dick's eyes opened, and Jason could see the red beginning to bleed into his white irises.

"Prihor…" Dick muttered. "Mymother… prihor… numele meu…Robin… de ce did'he giveyou… nemele meu?"

Jason squinted at the older boy as he tried to figure out what the hell he was saying. He knew that English was not Dick's first language, so he figured that as the virus dissolved the last of his mind, Dick's grasp of the English language would go faster than his native tongue. But Jason wasn't exactly fluent in Romani. "Robin?"

"Robin," Dick echoed absently, probably not even aware that he was speaking. "Nemele meu. Why did'he giveyou… my name?"

Jason finally got what Dick was muttering about, vaguely recalling an argument he had overheard in his early days as the second Boy Wonder. Dick and Bruce had been in the cave yelling at each other (something they tended to do quite often…) and Dick was insisting that Bruce give Jason a different name. 'Robin' was the name his mother had used to call him. That was why he had chosen it. Bruce had no right to just give it away to some other kid.

Jason chuckled quietly. "Wow, you must really resent him for that, if that's the last thing that you remember… Do you even know who 'he' was?"

Dick just looked at him blankly, and Jason realised that his brother was too far gone. He reached out and briefly squeezed the older teen's arm. "Goodbye, Dick."

Jason stood and walked back over to the door. Just as he was leaving, he barely heard Dick whisper back:

"Adio frate."

So… I've made the recent discovery that I am actually evil. I truly cannot believe that my Christmas pressie to you guys has gotten so damn dark! Maybe I should have written something fluffy instead…

If you're not too mad at me, please leave a review! It is Christmas people! XD

TRANSLATIONS: (Courtesy of Google Translate – Romanian)

Prihor: Robin

Numele Meu: My Name

De Ce: Why

Adio Frate: Farewell Brother