A LOT of inspiration drawn from ChancellorGriffin on ao3's fic: trustful hands. Actually, this chapter is basically based off it.

If you watch the 100 and have a soft spot for either Kane or Bellamy, go check that shit out right now!

Bruce hadn't slept in three days.

Not entirely true, actually. He'd taken 30 minute naps here and there, but not a full night's rest. Whenever he tried, he'd just wake up an hour later in a cold sweat, completely horrified, not knowing where or who he was.

Because it was always the same grim nightmare.

It always started off with him and Wally, enjoying each others company. Sometimes they were at the park. Sometimes they were in the Watchtower. Sometimes they were simply sitting next to each other at a meeting.

And suddenly, the sense of peace would be brutally shattered. Something inside him would snap. Bruce would have the sudden uncontrollable urge to murder the speedster. Not out of anger, or self defense, but he just felt like he had to. Like someone was ordering him to. He'd throw Flash to the ground like a doll, and exactly like what really happened, he would wrap his hands around his neck and squeeze with all his might.

Except in his dreams, he doesn't let go. He feels Wally's heart hammer beneath his fingertips until it slows and eventually stops altogether. He feels Wally struggle underneath him until his body goes completely limp and those green eyes glaze over. Then, Bruce's body jerks awake, the nightmare so terrifyingly real it takes him a few moments to remember that no, I did not kill Wally West.

But as he lays awake in his bed, Bruce swears he can still feel the wild thumping of Wally's heartbeat against his own hands.

He can't forget. He can't forgive. But he can distract himself.

So he does. He spends every waking minute working as either Batman or Bruce Wayne. He has a lot of work to do, anyway. The League still needed to find out who or what chipped them and why. Plus, crime had steadily risen in the past week as criminals realized the Justice League had no interest in stopping them anymore.

Thankfully, Flash and the rest of the team seemed to be faring much better than he was. The Leaguers had apologized profusely, and Wally blushed and assured them that it wasn't their fault. They had even gotten their resident speedster an apology card which had a pouting puppy on the front and read: "Sorry for trying to kill you. Again." signed by each of them.

Batman was confident that Wally had placed the gift next to the "Sorry our alternate dimension selves tried to kill you" and "Sorry evil ancient snakes possessed us and almost killed you" cards.

But Wally accepting their silly card didn't do a thing to ease the guilt Bruce felt.

-/-/-

Wally had mostly forgotten what had happened a few days earlier. His friends were torn up about it, but after a couple hours of reassuring them that he was fine, their apologies turned into just quietly pampering him whenever he needed it. Fluffing his pillows, shoulder massages, baking him desserts... Wally was in Watchtower heaven.

Other than that, things were back to normal for the Justice League. There was one thing out of place though- Batman. He looked like he honestly hadn't taken a rest in a week. And, if anything, he was a smidgen colder to Flash than he usually was. Wally swore that Bats was actually going out of his way to avoid him.

He didn't understand. Was Bruce ashamed? Angry? Or just busy?

With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed and stretched his fingers as he walked to his bathroom. No pain.

Thank god for super healing.

His superspeed had fixed up his body pretty well; the only visible reminders of the fight were the stitches on his thigh and...

He brought a hand up to his neck as he inspected the bruises in the mirror. They were still there, those purple blossoms which matched a certain caped crusader's hands. Not to mention the slight rasp his voice had taken as well.

Wally quickly turned away from his reflection. He didn't like to think about them. If he stared at them too long, he swore he could feel the ghost of Bruce's unyielding grasp on his throat. He shuddered at the memory.

He changed into a button up and khakis, getting ready for work. Whenever a coworker asked what happened, Wally would just blame it on the chip. Half of Central City had been affected by the transmission so no one really questioned him.

As the Flash, his cowl covered his entire neck. He didn't have to worry about explaining the marks to his fellow heroes. The founders understood what happened that day, but the others did not. Flash would prefer to keep it that way.

He picked three bagels off the counter and took off towards his lab.

-/-/-

Batman was checking criminal files on the Watchtower monitor when he heard the door open and a presence beside him. Without looking up, he snapped, "What is it?"

"J'onn, Supergirl, Green Lantern, Booster Gold and I are almost done dismantling the satellite," Superman said. "I can't believe it. If Flash had waited just a couple more hours before setting the bomb, the entire world would have been under the chip's control."

It was true, of course. The radio tower had only been a temporary site for the transmissions, controlling only the east coast of North America.

"Speaking of Flash, he wants to know why he keeps getting put on crowd control for ground missions," The man of steel continued.

"He should know why."

Superman crossed his arms. "Obviously he doesn't. And honestly, neither do I."

Batman finally turned to him, eyes narrowed. "Four days ago he was tortured by his own teammates. The physical and mental trauma he sustained is enough to keep him benched for at least another week."

"Batman," Superman said, "Flash has accelerated healing. You saw his medical report from yesterday. He's perfectly fine. As for his mental state, J'onn did a check up and he's in his regular Wally condition. There's nothing to worry about." He paused. "Are you sure this is about him, or you?"

The hero clenched his fists. "Flash is going to continue crowd control until I decide he is fit to be back on the front line. Now get out before I assign you to washing the dishes," He snarled.

"Fine, fine," Superman said as he backed out of the room, hands raised in surrender. "And Bruce, don't prowl the streets of Gotham tonight. Get some sleep."

Turning back to the screen, Batman decided that the odds of him taking Superman's advice were incredibly slim.

-/-/-

He could feel the effects of exhaustion catching up to him. His movements were sluggish and his senses felt dulled. His reflexes weren't as sharp as they should have been.

He should have called for backup.

Killer Croc's tail swished like a whip, then he swung it at Batman before the hero could even process it. The impact sent the dark knight into the concrete wall with a loud crack. He watched Croc escape with his jewels, unable to muster the strength to stand up and follow him. With his last ounce of energy, Batman hit the emergency button on his League comm link.

-/-/-

"Is he okay?" Flash asked the Martian quietly.

Flash had heard the distress call from Batman's end. The lone sound of Bruce's raspy breathing scared him into action. He followed the signal into the sewer, where it was easy to put together what happened from the cracks in the wall and Batman's motionless body lying on the ground.

"Batman has a spinal fracture. More worrying, however, is the lack of sleep he's been getting. Human bodies cannot function properly on so little rest."

Flash peeked behind J'onn into the medbay. Thankfully, Bats was asleep now.

J'onn noticed where Flash's gaze was settled and stepped aside. "You can go in," He told the speedster.

Flash nodded in thanks and made his way to Bruce's bedside. He had suspected that Bats hadn't been getting enough sleep, but when did Batman ever have a normal sleep schedule?

The man rolled over in his sleep, and Flash noted the way his eyebrows creased a little bit. Barely a minute passed until Bruce was suddenly shifting incessantly in the bed.

A nightmare, Wally realized.

He moved to wake the Bat up, but paused when he noticed Bruce's fingers curled inward against the blanket. Flash swallowed hard. He knew what those fingers think they're wrapped around; he knew exactly why Bruce wasn't sleeping anymore.

Flash quickly put his hands in Batman's gloved ones, shaking them lightly. "Bats," He said, "Wake up. C'mon, buddy. Wake up."

Batman woke up with a jolt, immediately sitting upright. His gaze searched the room wildly, as if he were unsure of where he was. The ragged breathing and wide, fearful eyes had no place accompanying Batman.

Wally was suddenly aware of the fact that his hands and Bruce's trembling ones were still intertwined. The man on the bed noticed too, and stared down at them.

-/-/-

It took a moment for Batman to organize his thoughts. Medbay, no lifeless body laying beside him, no chip in his head telling him what to do. But... who's damn hands was he holding?

He lifted his eyes and was met by Flash, staring at him with a type of concern Bruce would only expect from Alfred. He couldn't help but let out a breath of relief. It felt so good to wake up from that horrifying nightmare, just to have the speedster's full-of-life presence greet him. Sometimes he'd wake up from the dream in a blind panic, unsure if he had actually ripped the life out of Wally or not. It was completely disconcerting.

Flash cleared his throat, a blush tinging his cheeks.

Oh, right. Their hands.

He should pull away from Wally's firm grip. Unfortunately, neither of them seemed keen on that idea enough to let go first. So they sat like that for a few more seconds as Batman shoved the panic bubbling in his chest down and forced his hands to stop quivering. Wally West was alive. Hell, Wally West was sitting right in front of him.

I did not kill Wally West. I did not kill Wally West. I did not-

"You can tell me anything. You know that, right Bats?" Flash asked, tilting his head slightly.

"I don't have anything to tell," Bruce huffed in response, retracting his hands back to himself. His palms suddenly felt cold.

Uncertain of what to do with his now-empty hands, Flash started fidgeting with the corner of the blanket. "Well... I... It's..." The boy fumbled for words. Finally he took a deep breath, straightened his back, and looked Bruce directly in the eye. "I know you have nightmares. About me. About what the chip made you do."

Batman held his gaze, refusing to answer.

"You didn't do it. It was the chip. You had no control over your actions. I know that. I knew that the entire time. If you think I blame you, or if you think I don't understand, you're wrong," Wally said, "It wasn't you who hurt me."

"Take off your cowl."

"What?"

"Take off your cowl."

Flash seemed to understand where Batman was going. "What happened to the house rule?" He joked worriedly, "About always keeping your mask on?"

"Take it off, Wally."

"You're breaking your own rules left and right, Bats," Flash said with a nervous chuckle. "Calling me by my real name? What's next, you start handing out the Javelin entry code to strangers?"

Batman just fixed a glare on the speedster until the boy sighed and slowly tugged his cowl down.

It was worse than Bruce thought. He hadn't seen the bruises, just the stitches and the fingers. He felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs, and he tensed. He was not in the nightmare. Flash was not struggling to breathe underneath him. He was not trying to crush his windpipe.

Still, a wave of nausea hit him as he remembered the feeling of Wally's soft throat in his rigid hold. He remembered Wally's frantic heartbeat being a lullaby to his chipped brain.

Yellowish-purple masses swathed Wally's skin, darker in certain places where Bruce remembers his fingers had dug into. This was the reminder of Bruce's failure. Hesitantly, he reached out to touch the marks, intently watching the boy's reaction. Wally closed his eyes as Bruce's fingers trailed over his neck, feather-light, scared of pressing too hard.

Flash was holding his breath. He was afraid. Afraid of Bruce.

Batman began to pull his hand away. He had crossed a line. Of course Flash was-

To his shock, a hand shot out and grabbed his retreating wrist. Wally guided his hand back and gently wrapped it around his own neck, precisely lining up Bruce's thumb to the mark it left behind. Then he took the other hand and did the same.

Batman's breath hitched, his hands now in the exact position they were that fateful day. Just like in the nightmares.

Except, Wally was staring at him with complete trust. He held his hands firmly over Bruce's, making sure the older man couldn't pull back. And Flash was not afraid. His heartbeat was a steady, rhythmic thump against his palms.

"See?" Flash said softly. "It's okay. You can touch me right here, in the exact place you did last time, and it's okay. The chip is gone. It's over. I trust you."

He uncoiled Batman's hands, letting them drop back down.

"I'm not scared of you, Bruce," Wally said confidently. "How could I be scared of someone who only does their best to look out for me?"

Bruce felt his chest tighten. He didn't deserve this... this... forgiveness.

"It was my plan," He told the red-clad hero. "My plan to lure you to the cave. I knew what would make you come and what wouldn't." He turned away, ashamed to meet the boy's green eyes. "I knew how you felt about me. I've known for a while."

Batman sensed Wally stiffen beside him.

"You know, huh?" Flash asked. "You know about my big, fat, batty crush on you?"

"Yes."

A pause.

"Maybe I should..." "I want you to stay." Both heroes spoke at once. Surprised, they both snapped their gazes back to each other.

"You go first," Flash said, eyes wide.

"I want you to stay."

"With you? Here?"

"Yes."

"...I'm gonna need some snacks."