Still Untouchable.

Prologue: Left.

Superman found him in the midst of the room, down on his knees, his eyes focused on the pool of crimson blood. One arm wrapped around the grey fabric of his costume, as if he was trying to hold himself together, as if he would break from the middle, his very core. Everything that wasn't attached to a wall lay around him, glass broken, papers scattered around, but the room looked painfully empty.

He found himself afraid to speak, as if his voice would be the final blow, as if just speaking would send the man, always unbreakable, always untouchable, finally shattering. He kept silent, his own heart skipping beats, his own hands shaking with fear.

"Batman."

He said the words slowly, softly, almost as if he hadn't meant to say it out loud.

The man looked up at him, his lips pressed together in a tight line, no tremble visible. His eyes were covered with the white lenses so he wasn't sure what emotion he was conveying but for once he was sure there was something. For once he was happy he couldn't see it. He looked stoic as ever, untouchable, unbreakable, but inside, Superman knew, he was raging at himself, his self-loathing ripping him apart like he was nothing. He never stood a chance against the power of his self-destruction.

And as Superman glanced down to the picture of the redhead grinning brightly, he knew no words could ever make this alright.

"He took him," Batman spoke after the silence had almost crushed them, refusing to look at the man as he did so, turning his eyes to the blood once more, the red liquid that stained the room like a big spot that bleached out all the rest. Superman suppressed the shiver down his spine, the words carving a way in his brain, in his memory, in the depths of his heart. His voice hadn't shaken in the least, nor had he gasped or even took a breath slightly deeper when he said so, but rather he had looked fragile when he said it, human, too human to be Batman.

Batman stood up, found his balance a few seconds later than should have been and stared at the wall opposite of him, still not facing the man of steel, as he found it impossible to ask for any details.

"The Joker took Flash."

With those words Batman turned around and walked past him. The rain pounded mercilessly onto the windows of the small flat. Superman turned around and followed the grey suited man, whose steps looked like they were aching, like his shadow was too heavy to be attached to him.

It was only after Batman threw a discreet glance over his shoulder, staring at the name written on the flat door, that Superman realised the destruction of those words.

The Joker took Flash.

The words he had to say were like Pandora's box himself. He stared at their faces, already twisted by their fear, their worries. Even J'onn, the epitome of apathy, even more so than himself, had his lips pressed together in a line tight, his eyes narrowed too much and he didn't want to say it, he didn't want to admit it was real, he wanted a blur to zip in and scream it wasn't really true ─ just kidding.

"The Joker took Flash," he repeated then, his words like arsenic to himself.

Hawkgirl stood up so fast her chair fell against the ground, slammed her fist down the table, her voice skipping in emotion as she screamed something that wasn't even a sentence, just raw emotion vocalised. Then she looked up, her eyes meeting his and he knew that, even to him, the intensity of her stare should have done something, even if it was just a feeling of apathy, of him underlining how badly he was not impressed ─ but this time he felt nothing ─ nothing at all.

He would have underscored her anger with a remark, but he didn't, he let it flood all over him, gushing like the waves of the ocean. He deserved their anger, every last second of it. It was only righteous to make himself suffer as much as he possibly could.

She opened her mouth, to say something ─ you were supposed to protect him ─ but she didn't, she wouldn't, she refused to ─ this is your fault ─ and she simply pushed herself off the table and walked away. She slammed the door closed and no one dared to say she should calm herself down, even Green Lantern waited several moments before he stood up, shot a glance at Batman, more apologetically ─ but still filled with a certain degree of hatred ─ than the previous one he had received and went out to search her.

Batman turned to the remaining three, swallowed back something that had planted in his chest, ignored the wide-eyed looks, the trembling of his hands, as he started saying something amongst the lines of where the most likely location Flash was held would be.

The seconds ticked away like a time bomb, every heartbeat like a warning sign, but he couldn't kick into action, couldn't do anything, rendered useless, helpless.

Helpless.

The rain still poured down heavily as a lone silhouette stared out over the rooftops of a city called Gotham. His fist clenched, his lips pressed together in a tight line, teeth pressing against each other so hard they might crush under the sheer pressure of his self-loathing. The streets sky was empty, only the lights of night bars still flicking on and off, illuminating the pavement in coloured light.

Wally. He mouthed the name without any sound, without any noise at all, his heart trashing against his ribcage, causing a throbbing, dull pain in his chest every time it did, his head full of thoughts, but he couldn't organise them, couldn't find himself to think clearly.

You were supposed to protect him.

But he was Batman, and in the end, he was never able to protect the things most precious to him.

He was Bruce Wayne and that man always lost everything he loved.

"When you are gone, I miss you."

"When you are gone, I miss you."

"When you get hurt, I feel responsible."

"I don't know if that is the right answer, Flash. But it's mine."

"You shouldn't have said that."

He smiled, smiled, smiled.

"That just made me want to kiss you."

"You always want to kiss me."

He smiled, smiled, smiled.

"Yes, I do."

A thousand what-ifs gushed through his head when he returned to the mansion at three am in the morning. He was awake at the sheer power of will, his fear and guilt. Guilt being the empathised word.

If only he had let Wally stay.
If only he had told him what he had meant to say.
If only he hadn't send him away.
If only. If only. If only.

"Would you fancy a cup of tea, Master Wayne?" the familiar voice broke him out of his thoughts and he blinked, slowly realising he had changed out of his costume, sitting in the kitchen, staring ahead.

Why the kitchen?
Oh.
The kitchen.

He nodded slowly, not getting his voice to work quite right. Alfred didn't linger, though he could smell the worry dripping off him like thick perfume. He fingered the towel around his shoulder ─ and when did it get there? ─ and ignored the burning behind his eyes.

The cup was placed before him moments later, steaming, the smell of mint, of mint of all things and ─

"Alfred, I…" and he had meant to say something profound, something that would convey all his feelings, the way Wally told him to do, since bottling it all up could only make it worse, keeping everything inside would just make you fill up too badly and you would burst and ─ Wally never understood when he should stop rambling.

"I know, Master Wayne," he simply answered, when Bruce wrapped his hand around the cup and found that the liquid within it trembled slightly. "I know."

Bruce wasn't sure what exactly he was talking about, but the words still assured him, even though it was just slightly, even though the tea still trembled.

What if the last thing he ever said to Wally West was that he couldn't stay? What if those words ─ I'm sorry, but you really can't stay. I promise I'll call you when you can come over again. See you tonight ─ were the last he had ever uttered to his newfound lover? What if that one night was all he got?

What if that one confession had ruined his life? What if this was his fault, no, hell, screw that, this was his fault, his full-blown mistake, his gigantic miscalculation, the worst he ever made in his life and ─

He was breathing slowly, counting how long he held his breathe before releasing it again, the way he had told Wally to do when he would lose control.

But all control was lost now.
All was lost now.
It had slipped through his fingers because he hadn't let Wally stay.

And now Wally left, he might never return.

Bruce wondered, if Wally could see him now in the worst shape he had ever been, would he still tell him he was always unbreakable.

Untouchable still.

Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!

OMIGOSH YES! I HAVE NO IDEA HOW IT HAPPENED BUT I AM BACK IN MY BATFLASH OBSESSION PHASE! So this idea was lurking in my head.

BE AWARE THOUGH! VERY VERY DARK THEMES AHEAD!

Please, please review? I don't really know what to state here. Well, the explanation of just WHAT happened will be in the next chapter! STAY TUNED!