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Title: Reality is a Crutch 1/7
All Parts: Part 1, Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7
Author: kat8cha
Pairing: pre Roy/Wally
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Roy hates asking for help and can only do so when he is not the one in need.
Warnings: Drug use, referenced prostitution
A/N: The first part of the story behind![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
roygoesdown and quickblows's AU. Roy leaves when Ollie kicks him out and Wally never met Barry and thus never gained powers. Also for H/C bingo's wild card.
It ends pretty much the same way it began, with Roy staring at a phone and chewing on his fingernails. It was a habit that interfered with archery; he'd get so close to the pad of his fingers he'd be in danger of biting them too. It was another sign of how weak he was on the inside. Roy reflexively chewed his thumbnail now when he stared at any phone, but right not he was going wholesale on his fingers as he wrestled with himself. He needed to make the call.
Before, it'd been Ollie's phone that Roy had sat and stared at. 'He'll call tonight', was a mantra he'd kept up on lonely nights after patrolling star city, his muscles tired, his eyes bleary, but if he went to bed then Ollie'd call and he'd miss it. Roy stayed up more lonely nights like that… later, Roy made promises to no one who was listening (himself, god) he promised not to go out that night of Ollie called. 'Please, please, just call, I won't get high tonight if you call.' Ollie never did, however. And then he'd tossed him out. That ache still hurt.
Every time Roy tried to quit, go cold turkey and curl up on whatever mattress he and Wally had commandeered, he heard Ollie's voice in his head and felt that back handed slap to his cheek. It sent him down to the corner faster than the cravings and the jitters and the painful cramps. Not even Wally's arms could keep Roy back when that voice started up.
Wally. Roy bit down on the flesh of his finger and stared harder at the payphone. He was out of their cheap little apartment, the one owned by the crooked landlord in the seedy section of town. Between the two of them they scraped by with rent. Roy was sure they, he, could earn more. Being a package deal didn't mean they got less buyers just different ones. Roy didn't let Wally go off on his own. The kid… Roy had to stop thinking of Wally like that because he wasn't a kid, not anymore, but he was innocent.
Sweet, even under the sharp occasional sarcasm.
"Waiting for a call?" Zelda, it wasn't her real name he real name was something like Maureen or Mary or Jane, cocked her hip at Roy. She lived in the apartment underneath, worked at the same run-down beat up brothel, and had a kid and an abusive boyfriend with a meth habit. Seeing her in the light of day was different than when he saw her under street lamps or neon lights. She looked haggard, her hair was lank and stringy and held back with a scrunchy and she was dressed in a baggy ripped up t-shirt and a wide brimmed hat to ward off the hot sun. Roy'd seen her with a violent john outside the brothel once, trying to pull her into his car, he'd pulled a knife on Zelda and Roy had stepped in. Taking the asshole down hadn't been hard, and she'd been oddly nice to Roy and Wally since then.
"Trying to get up the courage to make one." Roy glanced upwards, towards the grimy third floor window that lead to the shoebox sized apartment. The fact that he did not see Wally's face pressed against the dirty glass was proof of how sick Wally was. Well that and the horrible awful sound of his cough, the burning hot touch of his forehead, and his clammy hands. Roy'd blown his money on heroin the week before, he hadn't realized how sick Wally was. Wally'd hid it from him. And when the high wore off and Roy heard Wally's rattling cough he had wanted to kill himself for being so stupid. He had not even known Wally was sick and suddenly, almost overnight, Wally seemed to have developed bronchitis or maybe pneumonia. He couldn't even get Wally to go with him to the free clinic. Wally barely felt well enough to walk to the bathroom for the steamy showers Roy forced on him (when they could get hot enough water out of the rickety pipes to steam) he wouldn't be able to walk down to the free clinic. Wally did not want to go to the free clinic because he was worried that he would need to deal with social services. Roy was pretty sure he could pass himself off as Wally's brother and even then the clinic would be too busy to bother.
Which left Roy with over the counter pharmaceuticals, trying to buy drugs off the street, or making that phone call.
Or letting Wally die.
Roy flinched away from the thought and Zelda, who was still watching, fished in her handbag for her wallet and then pulled out a quarter. "Make that call, Roy. You two deserve better than this."
Roy curled his fingers around the sweat damp quarter and nodded quickly. Zelda smiled at him, wane and pained, and went into the rickety old apartment building. Roy stared at the pay-phone some more before stepping forward and checking the dial tone, then he slipped the quarter into the phone and only hesitated a second before he dialed a familiar number.
Not the most familiar number, the one that still haunted his mind when he thought of home, but another number equally fraught with issues. He nearly cried when it went to the answering machine, ridiculously grateful he did not have to talk to Hal face to face but also torn because it meant Hal might not get this message. He needed to plead his face, make it good, he needed help.
"Hal." Roy swallowed. "Hal, it's Roy. I need help." Saying it was so hard and his hand shook the handset against his ear. "Not for me, there's this guy I'm-" A buzz sounded through the earpiece and Roy's eyes widened in worry.
"Roy? Roy! Don't hang up!" Hal's voice on the line and Roy bit down on his bottom lip as three different kinds of homesickness hit at once. "What kind of help do you need? Where are you?"
"I'm…" Roy swallowed, then laughed. "I'm in Vegas, Hal." Roy rattled off the address and tried not to think about how hot he was. He was sunburned faintly on the tips of his ears but his inside was ice cold. "It's not for me. My friend is sick. I just… I need some help. I think… he's really sick Hal." Roy banged his head against the top of the payphone and hissed at the touch of hot metal.
"Roy." Hal's voice, warm and reassuring and fatherly and Roy's lips curled defensively in anger. "I'll be there. Do you mind if I bring a friend? Not Ollie, I swear."
"No." Roy took a deep breath and thought about Wally. Anything for Wally. He'd even put up with Ollie for Wally. "Anything. He just… when you get here… Wally doesn't know heroes. He knows about me, I told him, I just… I don't want you and your friend to get in trouble because of him and me."
"You could never get me in trouble, Roy."
"Thanks, Hal." Roy took a deep breath. "I have to go. There's a line for the phone. I need to…"
"I'll see you in a few hours, Roy. Expect me before six." Roy closed his eyes. He was burning up too now, just like Wally, he was going to be seeing Hal for the first time since… since it had happened. Since they'd found out about him. Roy hung up quickly and stood there shivering even while the skin on the back of his neck turned red and sweat gathered in the curve of his back.
Part 2
All Parts: Part 1, Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7
Author: kat8cha
Pairing: pre Roy/Wally
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Roy hates asking for help and can only do so when he is not the one in need.
Warnings: Drug use, referenced prostitution
A/N: The first part of the story behind
roygoesdown and quickblows's AU. Roy leaves when Ollie kicks him out and Wally never met Barry and thus never gained powers. Also for H/C bingo's wild card.It ends pretty much the same way it began, with Roy staring at a phone and chewing on his fingernails. It was a habit that interfered with archery; he'd get so close to the pad of his fingers he'd be in danger of biting them too. It was another sign of how weak he was on the inside. Roy reflexively chewed his thumbnail now when he stared at any phone, but right not he was going wholesale on his fingers as he wrestled with himself. He needed to make the call.
Before, it'd been Ollie's phone that Roy had sat and stared at. 'He'll call tonight', was a mantra he'd kept up on lonely nights after patrolling star city, his muscles tired, his eyes bleary, but if he went to bed then Ollie'd call and he'd miss it. Roy stayed up more lonely nights like that… later, Roy made promises to no one who was listening (himself, god) he promised not to go out that night of Ollie called. 'Please, please, just call, I won't get high tonight if you call.' Ollie never did, however. And then he'd tossed him out. That ache still hurt.
Every time Roy tried to quit, go cold turkey and curl up on whatever mattress he and Wally had commandeered, he heard Ollie's voice in his head and felt that back handed slap to his cheek. It sent him down to the corner faster than the cravings and the jitters and the painful cramps. Not even Wally's arms could keep Roy back when that voice started up.
Wally. Roy bit down on the flesh of his finger and stared harder at the payphone. He was out of their cheap little apartment, the one owned by the crooked landlord in the seedy section of town. Between the two of them they scraped by with rent. Roy was sure they, he, could earn more. Being a package deal didn't mean they got less buyers just different ones. Roy didn't let Wally go off on his own. The kid… Roy had to stop thinking of Wally like that because he wasn't a kid, not anymore, but he was innocent.
Sweet, even under the sharp occasional sarcasm.
"Waiting for a call?" Zelda, it wasn't her real name he real name was something like Maureen or Mary or Jane, cocked her hip at Roy. She lived in the apartment underneath, worked at the same run-down beat up brothel, and had a kid and an abusive boyfriend with a meth habit. Seeing her in the light of day was different than when he saw her under street lamps or neon lights. She looked haggard, her hair was lank and stringy and held back with a scrunchy and she was dressed in a baggy ripped up t-shirt and a wide brimmed hat to ward off the hot sun. Roy'd seen her with a violent john outside the brothel once, trying to pull her into his car, he'd pulled a knife on Zelda and Roy had stepped in. Taking the asshole down hadn't been hard, and she'd been oddly nice to Roy and Wally since then.
"Trying to get up the courage to make one." Roy glanced upwards, towards the grimy third floor window that lead to the shoebox sized apartment. The fact that he did not see Wally's face pressed against the dirty glass was proof of how sick Wally was. Well that and the horrible awful sound of his cough, the burning hot touch of his forehead, and his clammy hands. Roy'd blown his money on heroin the week before, he hadn't realized how sick Wally was. Wally'd hid it from him. And when the high wore off and Roy heard Wally's rattling cough he had wanted to kill himself for being so stupid. He had not even known Wally was sick and suddenly, almost overnight, Wally seemed to have developed bronchitis or maybe pneumonia. He couldn't even get Wally to go with him to the free clinic. Wally barely felt well enough to walk to the bathroom for the steamy showers Roy forced on him (when they could get hot enough water out of the rickety pipes to steam) he wouldn't be able to walk down to the free clinic. Wally did not want to go to the free clinic because he was worried that he would need to deal with social services. Roy was pretty sure he could pass himself off as Wally's brother and even then the clinic would be too busy to bother.
Which left Roy with over the counter pharmaceuticals, trying to buy drugs off the street, or making that phone call.
Or letting Wally die.
Roy flinched away from the thought and Zelda, who was still watching, fished in her handbag for her wallet and then pulled out a quarter. "Make that call, Roy. You two deserve better than this."
Roy curled his fingers around the sweat damp quarter and nodded quickly. Zelda smiled at him, wane and pained, and went into the rickety old apartment building. Roy stared at the pay-phone some more before stepping forward and checking the dial tone, then he slipped the quarter into the phone and only hesitated a second before he dialed a familiar number.
Not the most familiar number, the one that still haunted his mind when he thought of home, but another number equally fraught with issues. He nearly cried when it went to the answering machine, ridiculously grateful he did not have to talk to Hal face to face but also torn because it meant Hal might not get this message. He needed to plead his face, make it good, he needed help.
"Hal." Roy swallowed. "Hal, it's Roy. I need help." Saying it was so hard and his hand shook the handset against his ear. "Not for me, there's this guy I'm-" A buzz sounded through the earpiece and Roy's eyes widened in worry.
"Roy? Roy! Don't hang up!" Hal's voice on the line and Roy bit down on his bottom lip as three different kinds of homesickness hit at once. "What kind of help do you need? Where are you?"
"I'm…" Roy swallowed, then laughed. "I'm in Vegas, Hal." Roy rattled off the address and tried not to think about how hot he was. He was sunburned faintly on the tips of his ears but his inside was ice cold. "It's not for me. My friend is sick. I just… I need some help. I think… he's really sick Hal." Roy banged his head against the top of the payphone and hissed at the touch of hot metal.
"Roy." Hal's voice, warm and reassuring and fatherly and Roy's lips curled defensively in anger. "I'll be there. Do you mind if I bring a friend? Not Ollie, I swear."
"No." Roy took a deep breath and thought about Wally. Anything for Wally. He'd even put up with Ollie for Wally. "Anything. He just… when you get here… Wally doesn't know heroes. He knows about me, I told him, I just… I don't want you and your friend to get in trouble because of him and me."
"You could never get me in trouble, Roy."
"Thanks, Hal." Roy took a deep breath. "I have to go. There's a line for the phone. I need to…"
"I'll see you in a few hours, Roy. Expect me before six." Roy closed his eyes. He was burning up too now, just like Wally, he was going to be seeing Hal for the first time since… since it had happened. Since they'd found out about him. Roy hung up quickly and stood there shivering even while the skin on the back of his neck turned red and sweat gathered in the curve of his back.
Part 2