Thank you so much for the fantastic feedback, guys! You really are the reason I love writing and continue to write for this fandom. Anyways, here's the happy ending, starting after Dick hung up on Wally.

Dick looked over the skyline again, twirling the phone in his hand. He had unknowingly paced away from the ledge as he talked to Wally, a habit ingrained long ago. Wally's words stuck with him, and he felt sick from the conversation. He regretted calling the speedster. He was too perceptive, too straightforward. But he couldn't think back on those cutting words now.

He wandered back to the edge, standing on the ledge again. He opened his arms to the winds whipping around him, like a bird ready to take flight. Right. He was here for a reason. For escape. For freedom. For flight.

He turned the phone over again, but in a moment it slipped through fingers. He watched it as if in slow motion as it fell beyond that his grasp and tumbled down... down…

Down.

He swallowed the lump as the phone grew smaller in his vision and eventually disappeared. He expected that it would be hitting the ground soon. Eventually. Like him. Right.

Dick crouched like a swimmer on the diving block. No, that didn't feel right. What about falling backwards? He turned around and backed up slightly, his heels hanging off the ledge. No, that didn't feel right either. He stepped forward and turned around again, assuming the almost messianic pose he initially stood in. This was getting ridiculous. He was here for a purpose. Why was he stalling so much? He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, steeling his nerves. Easily, almost ridiculously so, he pushed off the ledge and fell forward.

The moment his feet left the building, he felt wrong. The calm that he felt looking over the edge had evaporated, leaving only a sickness that seemed to pool in his stomach and radiate outwards. He wanted to throw up. Fuck, this wasn't the answer. Too fucking late now, he mused melancholically. Man, was he an idiot.

It was exactly like the movies, except it wasn't. Time felt slow, his body felt heavy as he fell, regretting the choice to fall with every passing millisecond. He scrambled for the grappling gun tucked inside his jacket, thankful that it was there. When he had left the house for what he thought was the last time, he wasn't sure why he kept it in his jacket. As the world fell slowly and his body moved even slower, his mind jumped to the conclusion that even in that moment he hadn't wanted to die, and that made him feel even more miserable.

Somehow he wrestled the gun from his jacket and shot it upwards aiming for the ledge. It was a familiar maneuver, hammered into his subconscious after having to do it so many times. Which is why he could feel his heart sink into the pit of his stomach when he saw the hook overshoot the ledge. Maybe it was a product of panic, a derivative of despair, but he didn't care because all it meant was that he was falling and nothing would catch him. His eyes widened at the realization. He was going to die. He closed his eyes. Tears traced down his cheek.

Suddenly he felt the rope go taut. A searing pain shot through his arm, and he nearly lost his grip on the gun. No. He had missed. Not like he was disappointed to be alive, but he shouldn't have been. He felt his dead weight being pulled upwards. He scrambled towards the wall of the building in an attempt to help pull himself up, to no avail. Eventually, he was at the lip of the building, face to face with none other than Wallace Rudolph West.

The two of them crashed onto the roof, though Dick barely felt the impact. Wally's arms locked around his torso, holding him in a vice grip. "Idiot. Goddamn idiot. Fuck you, you bastard, why the fuck were you even-God, I hate you so much right now."

"Wally?"

"Goddamn it, don't scare me like that, bastard. I could fucking kill you right now." The words went straight into his shoulder, Wally's face muffled against his back. He could feel wetness seep past the cloth. His friend was crying, muting his sobs into his body. He felt pathetic.

"I was wrong."

"Damn right you were."

"I don't wanna die." He felt tears leak from his eyes. Now he was crying too.

"Nobody does."

"I was-" The word was sickening on his tongue. He didn't want to admit it, even to his best friend.

"Scared?" He nodded in reply. "Dumbass, that's normal. Nobody in their right mind wants to die." Wally wiped his face against his shoulder. "Ah geez, what a mess, crying like a five-year-old."

"Yeah," Dick agreed, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. He tried to smile, but he was tired. So tired. Without the adrenaline flooding his system his body felt heavy. "I-sorry." His tongue was lead in his mouth now. Talking took too much effort, but somehow that one word seemed to carry the weight of everything that needed to be said. He pressed his head into Wally's chest and whined slightly, the sound humming lightly in his throat. "'m tired."

Wally laughed softly, a sound of relief more than joy. He ran his hand through Dick's hair. "Same here." It was over, at least for now. They'd have the consequences to deal with later. Batman knew, or would know, what happened, no question; they were just waiting for the other metaphorical shoe to drop. Dick would probably get questioned and punished or otherwise restricted, and Wally didn't want to admit it, but he was secretly happy about that. He wanted Dick safe, and as far as he knew, this was the best route. It would be everything that he didn't get.

But he didn't want to think of long, painful talks and unavoidable emotional breakdowns. All he wanted to think about was his best friend curled up in his arms, a poor, broken boy who needed attention. Dick had fallen asleep, his entire body relaxing in the comforting arms of his friend. Wally felt the corners of his lips rise. Yes, those thoughts could wait. All that mattered was that the two of them were alive, that he still had the friend closest to him close to him. What more could he ask for?

Sinceriously, please leave a review :D Reviews give me life.