Young Justice Trash

After-Failsafe Mission

-This *Might* be inspired by The Solve It Squad Returns-

The league was aware that they fucked up. They tried to insist that they hadn't intentually traumatized the kids, but in hindsight; a training mission where they are forced to all die was a bad idea. Even if they hadn't got psycically trapped, those kids would've been screwed up.

They made the kids attend one counseling session, and offered others, but it came off in a very 'who wants to be a pussy' kind of way. They needed the team to be escorted on their missions, but first, they needed to be convinced to participated in missions.

Dick shook five-ish sleeping pills into his palm. He was only supposed to take one, but after a few weeks, he'd built up an immunity.

He lay on his bed, waiting for sleep to come. He slept most of the day, and since he wasn't allowed to go on patrol, he slept all night, too. It was a lot better than being concious with his thoughts.

He hadn't seen the team since the training exercise, and he didn't even really see them. He would miss his friends, but he was too tired. Weight, guilt and drugs, pulled at his eyelids. With the last of his energy, he reached out and closed the curtains closed against the sun. It was only one pm.

He let sleep overtake him again, enveloping him, slowly. He became unconcious to the passing of time.

There was a knock at the door. Asleep, he waited for it to go away. It didn't.

"Dick? The team has another mission..." a few more seconds of silence. "Dick? I'm going to come in." There was the sound of Dick's half-hearted baracade being pushed aside as the door opened. "Dick, wake up."

Dick kept ignoring his father, hoping unconciousness would reconsume him and block out all sound.  After about a minute of listening to his father talk, he let his eyes open a little. 

"Why."

"Dick, please, I haven't seen you in days. Why are you always-" He spied the half-empty pill bottle on the nightstand. He'd just gotten this perscription refilled. "Oh Dick..."

"Sorry." Was all his brain could think to say.

"We'll talk about this later." He sighed. "Your team needs you."

"No."

Bruce tried a different approach. "You have a mission, you have to do this."

"All I have to do is pay taxes and die." The boy croaked.

"Come on, get up. You're going to do this."

Dick waited until he was alone before finally rolling out of bed. His body needed something. He went to the medic in cabinet, and he took out a few bottles; Prozac, Diazepam, and Bruce's Caffeine pills. Fuck doseges. He shook a couple of each into his hand and downed them with water, straight from the tap. It'd do for now. 

The only sign that time had passed since he locked himself in his room was a paper, dated last week, with a title like: 'Green Arrow Drug Bust, in Downtown Star City'

'at least someone is useful...' Dick sighed, kicking the paper out of his way.

Bruce took his sleeping pills, but he had a backup stash. He threw these, and the bottles from the cabinet in his overnight bag with a few things Bruce said he needed.

The team was in shambles, and the teens had detiriated over a few weeks; oily hair, breakouts, sagging eyes, drastically gained and lost weight, and poor blood pressure, with looks of disappointment, fear, and guilt permanantly plastered to their faces.