Of course, that proved to be easier said than done. Especially since there wasn't much he could do. He didn't want to try to sleep again. He couldn't drive himself to the gym to work out his arms because it was his driving foot that was injured. He had a TV but he had gotten rid of cable when he realized he didn't have time to watch anything with his busy schedule, same with his streaming services. He had a few books but he had already read them. He could work on cases but unless he actually talked to one of the bats about it, about covering for him there was no way to use the information.
That was another problem patrol. He was not going to be able to patrol. He should tell someone so that they could cover for him. They didn't care about Bludhaven though. But they had covered for him before would they now? Bruce still hadn't called him back and the situation with the rouges had been solved an hour ago. Which he had learned from the news, not firsthand.
Maybe they were just tired? Or maybe just Bruce didn't care since Dick wasn't useful anymore. Maybe they were glad that he hadn't come? A heavy feeling settled in his stomach at the thought. But it wasn't exactly that far-fetched. They hadn't contacted him, no one had called him either to ask why he hadn't come. Maybe they really didn't care about him anymore? The heavy feeling grew in his gut it felt like it was weighing them down like a dark tar or ink covering and gnawing on his insides slowly choking him from the inside out. Dick swallowed harshly.
He wanted some pills, the end part had sucked but the beginning...but he couldn't. His gaze rested on a kitchen knife in the dish rack. He could use it, use it to help himself feel better even if it was just for a little while. He stood up and used the counter to help him jump a few feet to the kitchen sink eyes focused on the somewhat expensive kitchen knife, which was important because the silver engraved handle ended in a very sharp point. He had unintentionally cut his fingers more than once just trying to dice up vegetables. It would slice through his skin easily, for a little while all there would be was exterior pain.
He took the large knife into his right hand using his left to hold onto the counter. It would be easy, and there would be relief. He just needed to do it, get it done. Dick's eyes flickered from the seafoam blue countertop that stood onto either side of the sink along with the slightly discolored vinyl once black and white in which his mismatched set of dining room furniture sat, then to the hallway that he could barely see from his angle.
What if Wally was watching him? What if he was real? It made more sense that he wasn't but what if was? What if he was just standing there watching him?
"Wally?" He spoke to the seemingly empty room feeling foolish. "Wally?" He repeated even though he knew even if he knew in the unlikely event Wally wasn't a hallucination, he wouldn't be able to respond to him. He had made a promise to Wally. That he had broken more than a few times before, if his sleeves were rolled up you could see just how many times. He had tried to cut back on it with the gym but sometimes it didn't suffice. "Wally," he repeated again his voice breaking. He wanted to talk to Wally like he used to when he was a teenager. Let Wally gather him up in a warm hug.
But real or not, he couldn't talk to him. Wally could be standing right in front of him talking to him and he wouldn't have any clue what he was saying.
But he could still be there, with him.
-He probably wasn't.
But he could be. He could almost imagine him- but no if he wasn't real it would just hurt more to think about him being there.
"Wally, are you real? Was it just the drugs?" He looked at the knife in his hand. He still wanted to run the knife through his skin but on the small chance that Wally could be watching him...he couldn't. He took a few steps to put it back in the dish rack when he caught sight of his cutting board. Wally had given it to him as a housewarming gift, with a laugh and a shrug. Dick smiled slightly as he stroked the wood-cutting board remembering the time that Wally had insisted on coming all the way to Bludhaven just to try to make fajitas just to curse about how the legs of the pig-shaped board got in the way.
Dick froze, he didn't remember the actual words exactly but he knew now what he had forgotten. Artemis had a pig named Michael that she was embarrassed about, no one else knew but Wally.
Dick looked at the sky again. The sun was bright and beaming its light directly through the window. No longer were the pink and purple tendrils just reaching into the sky. It had been a while since he had just sat and watched a sunrise but he had never wanted it to hurry up more than he had today.
Dick looked down at the text on his phone again at the unsent message for the umpteenth time. He didn't want to bother Artemis, so he had resolved that if he was going to send the message at all it would be at a time a normal person would probably be up. 8 am on a weekday was probably good enough, especially for a text that if she was sleeping she could ignore.
Do you have a stuffed pig named Michael?
Despite the simplicity of the question, he had rewritten it several times. Some with context that he had ultimately taken out. The problem was if he had completely hallucinated the whole thing he didn't want to hurt Artemis by making her think that Wally wasn't gone or even suggesting that he thought that before he had any proof whatsoever. Just some fuzzy memories that could be completely drug-induced.
This little tidbit too could be drug-induced, some corner of his mind might have made it up. After all, having a stuffed pig wasn't all that embarrassing. Or even if was true maybe Artemis had told him and he had forgotten and maybe all that would happen was Artemis telling him he already knew?
Before Dick could talk himself out of it or keep going round and round with nothing happening for another 4-5 hours Dick hit send and anxiously watched the screen. For a long moment, nothing happened and all Dick could think about was the worst. That Artemis was mad at him for bringing it up or confused because he should already know that. Or upset because of...because of Wally.
Eventually, a message popped up and Dick avidly devoured it.
Did Wally tell you before he died?
Dick dropped his phone on the table. That had to mean...it at least solidly implied. She didn't think he knew, Wally only knew...that implied...there was a chance, possibly even a good one, that Wally really wasn't dead.
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