Gotham needed a Batman. Everyone knew it. The city had fallen apart at the seams. Dick's own family had torn itself to pieces over it. This had to stop, and Dick could think of only one way to accomplish that. He'd have to wear the cowl himself.

It was his worst nightmare come true. He hadn't wanted to be Batman since he was thirteen years old and got a taste of what it was truly like to bear that kind of responsibility. There had been a lot he hadn't understood back then, most notably that Bruce didn't want him to become Batman at all. Dick supposed it was hard for a kid to pick up on something like that when he was being trained to fight crime like the man himself. It hadn't been until he'd heard Bruce's voice in his holographic will that he'd finally, truly, understood this wasn't the life Bruce had wanted for him.

Of course, Dick had learned long ago that sometimes one's own wants had to be set aside for the greater good. It still didn't sit right with him. By putting on that cowl inside this display case, he was disobeying Bruce's last wishes.

Dick rested his forehead against the glass. This wasn't right. But there was no one else to take on the burden, despite his brothers' best efforts. Jason was going off the rails and Tim was still so young. Dick knew Tim didn't even want to be Batman, that he'd only tried because Dick was being stubborn about it. It wasn't Tim's burden and it never should have been. The kid was too selfless for his own good sometimes.

Dick sighed, his breath fogging the glass. The last time anyone had put him in charge of anything, Kaldur had been mind-wiped and Wally had gotten lost in the time stream for two years. They'd thought him dead at the time, and his return hadn't done much to relieve the guilt Dick still carried over that.

"Still brooding?" Wally leaned against the display case.

"Gotta practise," Dick replied, not quite reaching the level of humour he'd hoped for. "Can't be Batman if I'm not broody."

"Well, you're doing well," Wally said. "Like, too well."

"It's a gift."

"You look like you're gonna fall over, babe. Some gift."

Dick groaned. "Drop it. Please."

"What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left you like this?"

"A boyfriend who knows who to listen," Dick muttered, already knowing his protests were useless.

"I am listening. It'd help if you'd start talking. Come on, what do you need?"

Dick rolled his eyes. "I need Bruce to not be dead, but that's not about to happen. Failing that, I need someone who's actually cut out to be Batman, because you just know we're in trouble if I'm the closest we've got."

"You're not as hopeless as you think you are, Dick," Wally said. "Honestly, though, I don't want some know-it-all stepping into the big guy's shoes. You've got no illusions about the kind of hard decisions Batman has to make, because you've made them before. That's why this is freaking you out, right?"

"I guess." Dick stepped away from the display case; he didn't want to look at it anymore. "Bruce didn't want this for me. I don't want it for me."

"I know," Wally replied. "If it helps, everyone I've spoken to thinks you'll do a good job."

Dick snorted. "Tell that to Damian."

"The kid just lost his dad. He probably thinks you're trying to replace Bruce, which we both know you're not. He'll come around eventually. You're not the sort of person anyone can stay mad at."

"He's giving it a good shot," Dick murmured. "And in the process of trying to do right by Damian, I managed to alienate Tim. Go me."

"He'll forgive you."

"He shouldn't. I certainly wasn't quick to forgive Bruce when he replaced me with Jason."

"You weren't in the greatest of mindsets in the first place," Wally reminded him. "Getting dropped in the Lazarus Pit isn't exactly a day at the spa."

The less Dick thought about that, the better. "I thought Tim was ready to move on from Robin, but maybe I was wrong."

"He'll come out of it okay. He's a tough kid."

"If you say so."

"I do say so." Wally took his hand. "Let's get out of the cave for a bit. Worrying so much isn't healthy, you know."

"Just a few minutes," Dick conceded. "I've got to cross-reference some intel with Oracle."

"Sounds like you're on top of things."

Dick laughed, a little bitterly. "Right."

"Hey, it's not your fault every criminal in Gotham is freaking the hell out. They thought Batman was gone. But you'll teach 'em."

Dick's next laugh was more genuine. "All right, Walls. Willing to make a bet on that?"

"Sure am. I bet you'll have at least three supercriminals behind bars by this time next week. Loser buys dinner."

"You're so on."

A week later, Dick took Wally out to dinner. Wally gloated the whole night.

Barry had survived the fight by the skin of his teeth, but he didn't make it out in one piece. Wally hadn't been there, but Bart had. The poor kid was still in shock and it had taken the combined efforts of both Tim and Jaime to get him in the shower to wash all the blood off. Dick had taken quite a beating in the fight as well, but had somehow managed to avoid serious injury. He was elsewhere in the Watchtower, his chest taped to hell and back but still on his feet despite Black Canary offering him a bed in the medical wing.

The first few hours were the worst. Surgeons worked on stopping the bleedout from the stump where Barry's lower leg used to be while Wally and Iris waited in a room nearby. Tim and Jaime had taken Bart over an hour ago and they still hadn't returned.

"He's fine," Dick assured him over the comm. "He's still shaken up, but Tim and Jaime are looking after him."

"Dick, you saw how much blood there was. He's not fine."

"He's talking and eating, which is more than he was doing earlier. We'll make sure he gets therapy when the dust's settled. For now, however, we need to focus on the small victories. How's Barry?"

"Alive," Wally replied. "Don't know anything else."

"He survived long enough to get help," Dick said. "The odds aren't bad, all things considered."

"You're not the one sitting here waiting for news."

"You're right." A distant series of clicks. Typing. "I'm still trying to piece together what the hell happened. My best theory is still a poorly-planned alien raid, given the scraps of tech the League's collecting from the field. The Lanterns are pursuing that angle. We're not gonna have that Reach bullshit again, since we clearly didn't invite them this time so the Lantern Corps is free to kick ass."

"Make sure they kick extra hard for Barry."

"Will do. Let me know if you hear anything, 'kay?"

"I will." Wally cut the line. Dick was trying way too hard to be optimistic, and it grated on his nerves. He wondered if this was how Damian felt most days.

Wally gave up on sitting after a while and paced around the room. Black Canary arrived some time after his tenth circuit.

"Good news," she said. "We've managed to stabilise him. He's still unconscious, but his healing's kicked in so he could wake up at any time."

Iris forced Wally to go home with Dick that night. Dick was still moving stiffly and Wally was still angry at the world, so it wasn't a great night for either of them.

"Weren't you supposed to be staying in the hospital tonight?" Wally asked as he watched Dick painfully swap into his nightshirt, catching a glimpse of row upon row of medical tape that didn't entirely hide the purple bruises covering his torso.

"Dinah wanted me to rest," Dick replied, gingerly climbing onto the bed. "She offered the bed because she knew I'd be more likely to accept it than if she told me to go home. Besides, I can think of someone who's worse off than I am and he pulled through okay in the end."

"He's never going to be the Flash again," Wally muttered. "Not unless someone invents a prosthetic that can take the force of someone running near the freaking speed of light."

"I've got WayneTech and Star Labs people already working on more durable prosthetics," Dick replied. He lay down with a quick gasp of pain. "The odds of making something that will fully accommodate the amount of force Barry would need to exert is unlikely, but maybe we can give him something back at least. In any case, we already have prosthetic technology that'll allow him to walk and run at human speeds."

Wally lay back, glaring up at the ceiling. "I should've been there."

"You were exactly where you'd been ordered to be, Wally," Dick said, probably a little more sharply than he'd intended. Pain made him snap at people sometimes. "It's not your fault. It's not Bart's fault. Or Barry's. You know who's at fault? The asshole who disintegrated his leg."

"We were a team, Dick. I was his first sidekick. Like you were the first Robin. I mean, can you honestly say you don't wish you were with Bruce when he—"

"Don't." Dick's face answered the question for him. "Just don't. You do this all the time."

"Do what?"

"Deflect."

"And you don't?"

"My uncle didn't just lose his leg. Mostly because my uncle's already—" Dick cut himself off. "Sorry. Bad mood. Shouldn't take it out on you."

Wally breathed out his tension. "Yeah. I'm sorry, too. I just... what if he asks me? You know, to take over?" He felt like such an asshole just bringing it up, as if he was entitled to take over the mantle of the Flash now his uncle was out for the count. And maybe some of that asshole feeling was because Dick had gone through the same thing, except worse because Bruce was dead and didn't want him to be Batman at all. He'd been forced to make that decision when faced with a city falling apart without a Batman to hold it together.

"He might," Dick said. "Bart's obviously not an option, as young as he still is. You could do it, you know."

"I'm not fast enough." That had been a sore spot for years, which had flared up worse than ever when Bart had appeared on the scene and immediately ran rings around him.

"You're faster than you used to be," Dick replied. "And it's not just about speed, you know? It's about brains, about personality. The Flash is as much a symbol of hope as he is a really fast cop. You don't have to be the exact same Flash Barry was, just like Barry's not the same as Jay. And I'm not the same as Bruce. He was way stronger than I am, for one. And scarier. But I don't piss off the cops as much, which is worth the villains cooing at me like I'm still a kid sometimes."

"Stop being adorable and maybe they'll stop trying to pinch your cheeks."

Dick snorted, then winced. "Ow. Don't make me laugh."

"Sorry."

"Any other insecurities you'd like to air out while we're here?"

"Nah, I think I'm good. How's the Batmanning? Stopped tripping on your cape yet?"

Dick smiled sheepishly. "Mostly."

"Growing up sucks."

"Yeah. It'd be better if people would stop dying or losing limbs, but what can you do?"

"Build a blanket fort and hide from the world forever?"

"That's how you should've proposed."

That... was actually a good idea. "Damn it."

They tried to sleep. Wally was still restless and Dick was still in pain, so neither of them were particularly happy in the morning. Wally barely got through his breakfast before Iris called him to come talk to Barry, who'd finally woken up. Dick kissed him goodbye, asking him to send along his good wishes.

Wally was still a little weirded about by the whole idea of replacing Barry as the Flash, but if Barry asked, he was ready to give it a shot.