A/N: Finally, a little more elaboration on some things mentioned in Don't Turn On the Lights and Twas the Night. Let me know if you caught those things, by the way.

This is set somewhere between one month and a year before season 1, in the same timeline/universe as the stories I just mentioned. You don't have to read them first but if you liked this, you'll probably like them. Dick is 12 or 13 here.

Trigger warning for non-graphic discussion of self-harm and suicide.

disclaimer: i own nothingnothingnothing aight

Wally West felt misled.

Well, a little misled. Mostly frightened. In seventh grade, they told him exactly what to do if he was worried about a friend. Tell an adult. Simple.

They didn't tell him the adult in charge might be the freaking Batman.

He supposed he could tell Alfred instead, since he was the one Wally always saw when he was at the manor anyway. Bruce wasn't even around much, or at least not as much as Dick seemed to want. It was half the reason Wally was terrified of him; he only ever saw him as the goddamn Dark Knight. But still, he was Dick's legal guardian and probably had a right to know...this. So he could help Dick. Because this was about Dick. No matter how much Wally felt like he was going to throw up.

He had to do it for his best friend.

And no time like the present, a Friday off in Central that was a school day for Dick and a half-work day for Bruce Wayne. Inhaling a Snickers bar for energy and luck, Wally started on his run to Wayne Manor. Gotham was cool and dreary with the first few droplets of a storm falling, and he let himself remember another rainy day, when he was eleven and first met a little bird peeking out from under the Big Bad Bat's cape. Robin wasn't quite so little anymore, but the Bat was still very big and very bad, in Wally's opinion.

Bruce. His name was Bruce. Not Batman.

Nearly smacking into an iron gate, Wally gulped and speed-changed back to his street clothes. The gates eventually swung open for him, and before he knew it he was fidgeting on the front step, expecting something other than Dick throwing the door open and springing up to hug him for once.

The door opened slower and more smoothly than Wally ever saw it, revealing straight-backed, stoic-faced Alfred. "Mister West, welcome. I'm afraid Master Dick is still at school."

"Yeah, I know." Wally scratched the back of his head. "I'm actually...I uh, need to talk to Bruce about something. Um. It's important."

"Oh?" Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Well then, come in, Mister West. Master Bruce is in his study. I can take you there."

"Thank you." Wally stepped in, shuffling his feet and then remembering with a blush to take off his shoes and coat. The manor felt quiet and cold without Dick tugging at his arm or babbling in his ear, but then again, there hadn't been much of that from him at all lately.

"May I ask if everything is alright?" Alfred said as he hung Wally's jacket up.

"Um. Yeah, I think it will be. It's...it's fine."

Not fine. Not in the least. But Alfred was practically trained in letting things go, so he did. "Good. Follow me, if you will."

The way up to the study was unnerving at best, terrifying at worst. He was familiar with certain parts of the second floor: a game room and a den and a few other places Dick liked. But generally, he stayed within the first floor and the third, where Dick's bedroom was. This hallway was uncharted territory, and seemed a little darker than everywhere else - or maybe that was his imagination. When Alfred finally reached an elaborate pair of doors and knocked sharply, Wally felt his stomach churn.

"Master Bruce, you have a guest who wishes to speak to you." Wally cringed, half-wishing to be sent away.

"Okay?" The confused tone in his muffled voice sounded...human. Not Batmanly. Maybe it was only because he didn't know who it was yet. "Come in."

Alfred opened the door for Wally, who looked down at the rug and took half a step inside.

"A pleasure to see you, Mister West."

With that, he was left alone with a puzzled Bruce Wayne. Who was just as huge out of the Batsuit as in it, and seemed even more so without Dick by his side.

Okay. He'll admit it. He was scared out of his wits of Bruce.

The man was sitting behind a large, elegant desk with a laptop in front of him, his image framed by bookcases on the back wall. Everything looked pristine, untouched. The only sign Wally could find of anyone besides Bruce ever being there was a leather armchair in the corner, which held a blue blanket and pillow along with a history textbook. He could easily imagine Dick curled up in it, and was reminded what he was even doing here.

"Hi, Wally." Bruce was cordial, if hesitant.

"Hi. Sir. Mr. Wayne. Sir. Um, I just...there's something you- I should talk to you about," he said, reduced to a blubbering idiot in this stupid fancy room. How did Dick live here? With all this and with stupid fancy Bruce?

Maybe that's why...

"Call me Bruce. And sit down, you're vibrating."

"Right. Sorry." Wally breathed deep and stepped forward to the chair that was set across from the desk. It looked golden, had a velvety seat and was altogether unnecessary. He could see why Dick preferred the cozy chair in the corner.

"This is about civilian matters?" Bruce asked as he sat down.

"Yeah. Um. It's about Dick."

Good. We're getting there.

"What about him?" He looked far more interested in what he had to say now, eyebrow raised in caution.

Wally bit his lip. "I'm worried about him."

The words made it real again, and the turning of his stomach came back for a different reason. He was more than worried. Scared. Horrified, if he was being honest. The helplessness and paranoia he'd felt over the past three days was unbearable, the constant fretting about what Dick was doing and guilt over having let him out of sight for more than a minute.

Bruce looked him in the eyes, his own wide with concern. "Let's talk somewhere else."

Somewhere else turned out to be the den where he and Dick played video games or watched movies during sleepovers. "No interruptions," Bruce explained briefly as he sat in an armchair and motioned for Wally to sit on the couch, leaning forward on his knees. "What's wrong with him?"

That was a different voice. Bruce sounded scared. And that terrified Wally.

"Well, I don't...know, exactly. I mean, I've been noticing...for a while that he isn't himself but I didn't know- I've been trying to talk to him about it and he's being really, really stubborn-"

"What's 'it'?"

Wally exhaled and looked to his feet. He didn't want to say it. Dick would hate him forever and Bruce would probably flip out, maybe even be angry, and he didn't know if this would ruin their family or not. What if it did? What if this made Dick never speak to Wally again, and on top of that, made Bruce mad at his kid? Dick wouldn't have anyone, andit would be all Wally's fault...

Besides, the words hurt his throat, and he wished so, so damn hard that this was just a misunderstanding.

Focus. This is for the best. He'll get help. Somehow convincing himself that the only way to fix it was to say it, he swallowed. "Er..."

"Start from the beginning?" Bruce suggested.

The couch shook with his tapping foot, and he nodded. "I guess I should. Yeah. Alright. So...it was the other day, when I was over and we were sparring downstairs, me and Rob- Dick. And then we were just...messing around. Y'know, wrestling or whatever. And he won...kicked my butt, really, it was sort of humiliating."

Bruce hummed with a vestige of a smirk, clearly proud.

"So...I was gonna try to get him back and scare him when he got out of the shower after, 'cause we prank each other a lot and...a-and he didn't have a shirt on yet and..." He let out a heavy breath, voice starting to shake as the rest tumbled out. "And I-I saw the scars and we talked about it for a bit and...god, I'm sorry, I should have noticed before..." There were tears in his eyes now and he vigorously blinked them away. "I'm sorry."

Bruce's face looked confused, but his eyes betrayed him. He knew. He understood. "I don't understand."

Wally rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. "He...he cu- hurts...hurts himself."

The man drew back from his knees, face paling as he gripped the arms of his chair. "You're sure?" he said quietly.

Wally nodded. "He told me." After I yelled at him that I knew exactly what those were, he omitted.

Bruce looked down, and when he spoke again it was strained. "Where?"

"I noticed the ones on his arms." He swallowed. "But I think...he said something about his thighs, like, running out of room or something."

"That's why I haven't seen...Wally, he didn't tell you why?" Bruce said, wincing.

Wally didn't tell him that he had been piecing together little hints for three days now, that all the offhand comments of bruce has been gone for two weeks did he forget me and i'm sorry i screw up so much and wally you don't hate me right? and ha i'm never happy were starting to echo in his mind. They were always tucked in jokes and irony or followed by drastic topic changes but he should've heard that little whimper for help, and he didn't.

"No. He said...that it's just a thing he does." And to never, ever tell you. "And that I shouldn't worry."

Wally braced himself for anger, how could you not know or worse, how could he do something so stupid. The Batman couldn't understand something like this; he would only see weakness, right?

"Thank you for worrying," Bruce said softly. The anger didn't come. Wally blinked and struggled to respond.

"O-of course. Of course. He's...my best friend."

"And he's very lucky for that." The man pressed his fingers to his temples, looking so deep in thought Wally was certain he'd forgotten he wasn't alone. "He's not happy, is he?"

Wally shook his head. "Something's wrong."

"Is it me?"

The conversation was one surprise after another for Wally. Bruce's voice, posture, and expression all spoke of pain and guilt. He was obviously shocked, too, and even though Dick had said he didn't know, Wally still thought maybe he would've had a feeling. And now he was...blaming himself?

"No! No, it's not."

"Don't lie." Bruce glanced at the table between the chair and couch, where a framed picture of him and Dick sat. Elsewhere in the manor, photos showed the late Wayne parents, a young Bruce at important events, and now Dick at the galas and milestones and school functions of his own childhood. But in the more private rooms, the pictures changed tone. This one was of a ten-year-old Dick grinning from his spot on Bruce's shoulders. "It's my job to make sure he's happy, and safe...and he's neither."

Wally didn't know how to argue with that. He pulled his sleeve over his hand to wipe his eyes even though he wasn't crying, just...almost crying. "I think he's thought about...it, too," he admitted when his eyes were conveniently hidden. "About...committing."

"Fuck."

There was something incredibly human about the word. He wasn't calm and collected or cool and calculating. Just...a father. Reacting the same way Wally imagined Barry might, if it were him - although Barry would freak out just a bit more.

He continued, uncomfortable. "Just...there's been times when he's been weird with me, and it kinda feels like maybe he's...saying goodbye...or he'll text me at weird times all upset...and I've never really thought much of it 'cause he'll be fine the next morning."

"He needs to talk to someone...a psychiatrist, or someone," Bruce muttered. "And he's benched, he can't be...god, fighting criminals every week if he doesn't want to make it out."

Wally wanted to bring up how clearly jealous Dick was whenever he needed to pass on sleepovers for scheduled family nights with Iris and Barry. Or the kicked puppy eyes he could see when Barry showed Wally open affection, or, the most recent thing he'd noticed, the way Dick's face fell when he said love you too before hanging up with Iris. He wanted to say maybe he needs to talk to you?

But he didn't. Because as out of character as Batman was when he was Bruce Wayne, he was still Batman. You don't criticize Batman. Not on his fighting, not on his parenting.

"Wally, do you know..." Bruce paused and looked towards the hall. Light footsteps padded up the stairs, closer and closer as Wally gulped.

And now I lose my best friend.

This was the part he'd really been dreading. Over and over, he convinced himself telling was the right thing to do, but this was going to hurt, dammit.

"Hey, B, I had a couple ideas for dinner since you're..." Dick reached the den and stopped short in the doorway, voice waning to a whisper. "...home early..."

Time always seemed to move slowly for Wally's speeding heart and mind, but the next few seconds were stop motion. He could see the gears turning in his best friend's head and every emotional shift on his face: from cheerful to confused, first, before speaking hesitantly, "Hi. Wally? What...what's this?"

Wally froze, and Bruce took a slow, deep breath before meeting his son's eyes. "Dick, we need to talk."

For another stop-frame, Wally saw a knowing flash in Dick's eyes, saw him tense and bite his tongue, but within a second he had twisted his expression back to normal.

"Bruce, Wally isn't selling me drugs. Don't know why you would think that, but-" Dick's smile was fake through and through, toothy and wide and not quite convincing enough to hide the terror beneath it.

"About you." Bruce fell silent, looking over Dick's school uniform with saddened eyes. "You're...not doing well."

His grin faded slowly, a scarcely detectable note of desperation in his voice. "In school? My grades were alright last I checked."

"Mentally, kiddo." Dick finally snapped his gaze to Wally, who could've sworn something stabbed him in the chest. Dick's eyes were wide, hurt, had betrayal written over them so clearly that Wally felt his own well up.

Another stop-frame. Nobody moved.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Dick finally said, tearing his wounded look away from his friend. He backed up a step, and spoke faster when Bruce opened his mouth. "I'm fine. I'm fine. I don't- I don't know what gave you that idea. Just- just stop talking about me like this- and Walls, you should be in school, a-and I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

Neither of them had a chance to respond before Dick turned and walked out, completely lacking the grace and composure he always seemed to have. Wally leapt up to follow him because chasing, he could do, and Bruce was close on his heels, but Dick had picked up his pace and was climbing the wood staircase two or three steps at a time.

"Dick, c'mon-"

A painful thump interrupted Wally as Dick tripped - Dick never trips - on the last step and fell to the floor, a sob squeaking out of him when his knees scraped against the ledge.

The knife in Wally's chest twisted as his best friend heaved a couple rough, shallow breaths, turned to him teary-eyed, and whispered, "You promised."

Wally bit his own tears back. "I..." The words died on his lips.

Dammit, this was all going wrong. Should he have some instinct, some natural intuition that would allow him to go hug Dick and whisper soothing words and be the best friend he was supposed to be?

Because he didn't. He was standing there like an idiot.

"Dick, we just want to understand." Bruce took a step up closer and Dick recoiled, wrapping his arms tight around his middle.

"There's nothing to understand!" he snapped, although the tears took away any strength his tone would have had. Then he turned his attention back to his friend. "I thought...I thought I could trust you, Wally."

Something in Wally's mind howled.

"I thought I could trust you not to keep things from me. Especially...god, you're hurting, Dick, why didn't you talk to me?" Bruce said, halting with one foot on the step.

"You're gonna make me stop." Dick blinked wide, wet eyes, looking tiny above the grandeur of the staircase.

"Of course I- kiddo, I can't let you keep doing this."

"I don't want to stop! You...you can't make me."

"No, but you are benched until we work through this. And there will be other changes as well."

"You can't do that!" Dick yelled, standing up but not coming any closer. "You can't punish me for this! For...wanting to feel in control and...alive...a-and warm..." For a moment, his eyes glassed over and he looked little again, but his voice rose back just as quickly. "You think I believe you run around in a fricken' bat suit out of the good of your heart? No! You do it to feel in control. A-and alive. You're scared. I'm..." His crying got heavier. Wally hadn't seen him cry like this since they were little, and he sort of felt like he shouldn't be seeing it. It made him ache, physically, out of sympathy and worry and something that felt like heartbreak. "I-I'm s-s-scared t-too, Bruce. And I'm s-so...sad, all the time. I can't live like th-his, I can't-" he sucked in a breath - "I don't w-wanna live at all anymore. And that's s-so scary."

"Dicky," Bruce cooed, his face reflecting a similar deep agony to the one that was now sitting on Wally's chest and choking him up. He crouched down on the steps, and Wally swore he would take the glimpse of a tear he saw to his grave. "Are you cutting yourself?"

Dick whimpered, and nodded.

"C'mere, let me see."

Wiping his eyes, Dick stumbled down from the landing and sat one stair above Bruce, who took his hands and pushed his sleeves back. "Oh, baby..."

Not even the pet names stopped Wally from sighing in relief, seeing Dick be coddled like he needed. He leaned against the railing, trying to breathe right again while Dick sniffled.

"Th-there's more of them too. Other places. I...I don't know…I'm sorry."

Bruce hummed, pulling him into his arms. "Shh…shh-h...you're okay...you're going to be okay…"

Dick melted. His eyes closed and his body curled up into something tiny as he buried himself in Bruce's chest, sobs muffled. Wally wanted to make himself look away, wanted to give them this moment alone, but his best friend was safe and the sight was healing him, even if said best friend would maybe never speak to him again.

"I'm sorry I di-didn't tell you," a weak voice mumbled.

"It's okay. I just want to help you feel better, Dicky-bird." Bruce's voice was gentle, like...Barry's. Like the voice he talked Wally to sleep with when things were bad, really bad, when he still lived with his parents. There was a deeper, richer tone to Bruce's version, but it was sweet and loving and everything Batman wasn't.

"Am I really benched?"

Please keep him benched. Wally didn't know if he could bear to watch Robin fighting on missions when he was this vulnerable and afraid.

"Yes. For a week, at least. After that, maybe you can go on missions with Roy and Wally, if you're up to it and if Wally will keep an eye on you." Dick blinked, as if he had forgotten Wally was there. He turned to look at him, lip trembling for a moment before he turned away again. Definitely hates me.

Bruce hesitated a moment, and even glanced at Wally before he continued. "And...how about I take a week off too? Clark can take care of Gotham."

Dick's face perked up considerably, his brittle voice and red face the only indication he'd been crying so much. "Really?"

Wally caught Bruce's eye and nodded. That's what Dick needed more than anything: time, and attention. But for a moment there, it seemed like Bruce was asking Wally's opinion.

Wally, fifteen-year-old chemistry nerd. Certainly not an expert on parenting.

But...maybe an expert on Dick Grayson.

"Mm. If you'd like that."

"Yeah. I would." Dick nuzzled himself closer and Wally felt awkward again, like maybe now was the time to leave. He made a quick hand signal to Bruce, who gave him what looked like a half-smile. Then he started down the stairs to the first floor, trying to be quiet.

But Dick was a detective. "Wally, don't leave," he called out softly. "Will you stay? Please?"

Wally paused. Dick was supposed to hate him. But no, that was an honest plea and Wally wasn't about to reject it.

"Sure thing, buddy." He backtracked and sat down at the other edge of the step, running a hand through his hair. Dick looked embarrassed too.

"Why don't I go call Clark about next week? And I'll ask Alfred to make an extra five dinner portions for Wally. We'll talk more later." Bruce ruffled Dick's hair and stood up, looking to Wally.

"Thank you," he mouthed.

Once he was gone and Wally was over his shock at being thanked by Batman, Dick hugged his knees to his chest. "That...went well."

Wally nodded. "He was really worried. But he wasn't...I dunno, mad or anything."

"That's kind of a relief." Dick sighed. "I'm sorry I got mad. I shouldn't have made you promise that."

"Hey, I get it. It's fine. So, uh...you forgive me?" Please forgive me.

He bit his lip. "You're not gonna treat me any differently?"

"No! Dude, never. Unless you're...really down, or something. Then I would hug you more. If that's okay."

"Yeah, it is." There was a hint of a smile. "So then yeah, duh, I forgive you. Thanks for...caring."

Wally scooted over to his friend and pulled him into a hug, rubbing circles on his back. "I'll always care. You're my best bro." I love you.

Dick smiled into Wally's neck. "You too. Uh, do you wanna play video games or something? Kinda sick of...crying."

"I thought you'd never ask." Arm still slung around Dick's shoulders, Wally stood up and started back down to the den. "And hey, call me if you ever need me, mmkay…"

For a couple weeks, not much was different. Dick took a little more time off and Bruce was nice to Wally whenever he was over (a lot), which was sort of unexpectedly awesome. The situation didn't even really come up- at least, not until one afternoon when Wally had just tossed his backpack on the floor and grabbed a snack. His phone buzzed in his pocket and announced a call from Dick, who with time zones would've been out of school an hour ago.

"Hey dude," he answered it, leaning against the fridge.

"Hi." Wally frowned. Dick sounded unsteady. "Um. Sorry to bother you, but...I'm...not feeling well. And Bruce is still at work and Alfred's doing errands and, I, ah, I think I'm gonna...I need someone with me right now." He swallowed, voice thickening. "Please."

"Okay!" Wally winced at the little squeak of panic in his response. "Yeah. Ah...I'll come over. We can watch a movie? Or something?"

There was a pause. "...um. I kinda...it's...being here, at home, I...I know where things are...and it's hard to...um. I'm tired anyway. You know what, I'm sorry I called. I don't really know what I want. Sorry."

"No, hey, hold on." Wally thought for half a second, hoping Dick hadn't hung up on him. "I was gonna go take a nap, actually. Would you wanna...come take a nap with me?"

"That...sounds really, really good."

Wally smiled. "'Kay. The zeta's open."

And so was his comforter, making it easy for Dick to crawl into Wally's bed with him like they were little kids again, feet touching to assure them the other was still there. And if Wally heard sniffling a few minutes later and slung an arm around the smaller body next to him, that was okay too.

He couldn't fix things, couldn't make the scars or the pain go away, but he sure as hell could take a nap with his best friend until he was ready to wake up. And just maybe, he could make things a little better.

That was all he was ever trying to do, really.