Soooo, I was rereading this story and I suddenly felt the urge to finish it. So here we are.

No one made a sound in the Emergency Room of Gotham Central Hospital as The Batman came sweeping through the doors. One young nurse, too afraid to move, was frozen with one hand raised to the elevator button.

"Where." It wasn't a question, because questions could be ignored, left unanswered. It was a statement. Because Bruce was going to his son and no one could do anything otherwise.

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The rest of the team had left. Gone to find the men who had done this to their friend. They couldn't help anymore from the hospital, and most of them dealt with grief by punching things. But Wally had refused to leave. It took equal parts of gentle coaxing from Miss Martian and physical force from Aqualad to get him into the chair he was now crumpled in, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

"Where were you?" Wally's voice was flat and he didn't even bother looking up. Batman's presence always changed the feeling of a room. Sometimes it made him feel safer but most of the time, frightened, like a rabbit wary of a momentarily tame fox. This time, he felt the presence, but none of the emotions that went with it.

All he could feel was the silence

"Where were you?" He repeated, speech muffled by his hands. "He got here twenty minutes ago." Wally could feel something crumble in his chest. Had it really only been twenty minutes? But then again, this was Batman. He had taken twenty minutes to get here.

"Twenty minutes." Fury seeped into his words. "Where. Were. You?" Wally looked up now. His hair was disheveled, like he had been pulling on it, and his face was tight, eyes red, cheeks damp and shining.

"Before. Where were you?" He glared up at the dark figure. "When he was surrounded by men. When t-they," Wally's mouth began to quiver but he kept his eyes fixed on the impassive man in front of him. "They had knifes an-and, crowbars, and-" How could he look so calm? Wally bit hard on the inside of his cheek and tasted blood. How could he be so uncaring, so unfeeling? This was Wally's best friend but goddamnit it was his son!

"He needed you!" Wally spat the words out, desperate to claw out a reaction out of him. And something quaked in Batman's face. His eyes squeezed themselves shut and he swayed slightly where he stood. One hand reached out and grasped the edge of the bed, the other clenched in a fist at his side.

Wally pressed his chapped lips into a thin line. This was the most emotion that he had ever seen from the hero. And it still wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough. Tears started to fill his eyes again.

"He needed help." The anger was suddenly drained from his words and all that was left was desperation. "I, I could have-" Wally vision blurred as he looked in front of him, one hand gesturing wildly. To the bed in the center of the room. To the form lying in it.

"I should have, oh god, I," Wally's voice caught in his throat. He looked back to the figure at the foot of the bed. Batman had always seemed one of the great forces of the universe. Like the weather. Like the night. Now all Wally saw was a man. A man hiding behind a mask. Too proud to cry. Too self-absorbed to care. Too gone to be worth anything. Wally's whole body started to tremble, but not with anger. The ground had been swept from underneath him the moment he answered the phone and he had been falling falling falling. But now he has landed. Heavy and broken. Understanding crushing him into the ground.

Robin is dead.

So, love it? Hate it? Crying silently and wishing I was never born?

A big thank you and virtual cookies to reviewers! You guys are the kick in the pants I need to actually finish my damn stories.