Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Aqualad/Beast Boy, hinted Raven/Starfire
Category: Drama. Angst. Shounen-ai.
Disclaimer:No copyright infringement intended, so put away your superpowered lawyers. No profit being made, used and written for entertainment purposes only.
360.
by d2ragnarok
Please. Let it be okay. Please.
The words themselves couldn't be said aloud, nor could Aqualad bring himself to even whisper them. He knew they could only hurt him in the end. In his mind, the words were still intangible, formless, and held little power over him.
Anger was easier to grasp than fear or pain.
He could overlook his own injuries, being too physically numb to feel them anyway. He could only feel the growing hurricane inside scatter the remnants of his emotions like ashes. It was only because nothing had really registered in his mind yet. Nothing except the few mumbled words to ease a friend's guilt trip, the anxious looks shared between team mates, and the eventual silence that followed too quickly before the words could actually be said.
Please, let it be okay. Aqualad didn't want to be the one to say it first, didn't want to admit the potential weakness.
It left the hurricane to do its damage in silence. Although, it must be admitted, in the miserable mood of Titans Tower the words simply didn't need to be said.
It wasn't supposed to happen so quickly. Even Beast Boy wasn't supposed to go down so fast, taken out of the equation with miniscule effort, but it could have easily been anyone of them. None of them were prepared to deal with Slade's upgraded Cinderblock. Beast Boy wasn't there to lighten the mood and reassure the others that everything would be fine in the end, because heroes never fall—they aren't supposed to.
They were only five strong when they were supposed to be six. Six.
Stop. Just stop. I don't want to think about it anymore. It happened too quickly. There was nothing anyone could do.
No, that wasn't true. Aqualad could have moved faster, fought harder, recognised the trap before it could have been executed, could have saved—
Aqualad's fists clenched so forcefully that he was almost certain that his muscles would lock, feeling that slow burn of anger coiling in his biceps. Right then, he thought he could punch through steel walls in a desperate attempt to get rid of the feeling of helplessness.
He pressed his hands on his lap—clench, unclench, clench, unclench—to keep himself from tearing something or someone into unrecognisable pieces.
Aqualad closed his eyes.
No. I've got it wrong. It wasn't Robin's fault.
The mantra was a prayer in the back of his mind, blurring with all the images of a small body being flung and the sickening sound of impact, stone on skin, skull cracking, skin splitting against the jagged wall, falling forward into a lifeless heap—
It wasn't Robin's fault.
An hour ago, it was an acceptable reason—a perfectly logical excuse. An hour ago, Aqualad was willing to give Robin a sympathetic pat on the back and tell him (even as his emotions clamped down on his chest so strongly that it just hurt to say) no, it wasn't his fault. An hour ago, he actually believed what he said. An hour ago. Now Aqualad didn't know what to do, except to ignore his urge to hunt down wonderful Boy Wonder and beat him within and inch of his life and shout, Look! Look at what you've done! Is this what Slade is worth to you! How much are you willing to sacrifice? These are your friends! Don't you care anymore?
He'd slipped down against the wall he'd been leaning against to sit after one solid hour of waiting, trying not to think too much of the night's incident. It was difficult not to, of course.
Starfire had paced along the hallway before propping herself up against the wall a few feet from Aqualad, arms folded as if she were hugging herself. Her optimism was replaced with a blank look that looked strange on the alien girl. Aqualad knew that Starfire would better off resting, so that she could regain her energy instead of using the wall as her support.
As much as Aqualad wanted to tell her this, he couldn't. Aqualad couldn't possibly comfort her, not when his emotions were so... uncontrolled, keen on burning anything he touched and thought about. His adrenaline levels were still thrumming in his muscles and veins, keeping him on that battle-high that would stretch his stress levels thin until they snapped. He knew he should go find somewhere to crash and burn it off. It wasn't wise for him to stay awake, not with the possibility of him snapping over something trivial and stupid, like a friend trying to offer comfort when he just wanted to be alone.
He and Starfire were so lost in their own thoughts that it was the same anyway. Aqualad was used to being alone.
Raven was gone still, in that tiny room with the door firmly closed. Aqualad didn't even think he could look, even if he wanted to. Not see that face so broken and bloody and empty.
Cyborg had disappeared with Robin earlier. Aqualad didn't care where, as long as Robin wasn't within a metre radius of him. Cyborg had had a grim look on his face and shared a look with Starfire that kept the girl planted on her feet, even as she had been about to leave with them. Aqualad watched the exchange and noted Robin's blank expression, as though it had not sunk in that he was the cause of his friend's likely—
It wasn't Robin's fault— even as his fists clenched— Just let him live. Please.
Hmmph. Interesting. Aqualad gave up on the idea of gods a long time ago. He had figured that he could only save himself, but he had never thought of equating other people into it. Now he was begging some unknown entity for the life of a friend. Stupid.
The door opened without warning, as these things usually did.
Aqualad and Starfire were on their feet and crowding the open doorway within a nanosecond. Raven had the grace to look a bit startled.
"Raven, finally! How is he!"
"You are not crying! Beast Boy is fine?"
They both cried out at the same time.
Despite the jumble of words and the double barrel assault of two anxious looks, Raven pushed them an arms-length away from her, eyes closed with a rather resigned look on her face.
"Beast Boy's fine," she replied. "He's just really banged up."
Aqualad let out the breath he had been holding.
Starfire squealed with girlish delight and (there was simply no other word to describe the act) glomped Raven with great enthusiasm. Raven took it stoically, though Aqualad thought he caught the tail-end of a look, as brief as starlight, but he couldn't be certain. It didn't matter to him anyway. Beast Boy was okay. It was as if the dark cloud that hovered over him the past hour just disappeared, lifted by this good news.
Aqualad felt something in his chest expanding, but was too happy and relieved to really understand what it meant.
"Can I go see him?" Aqualad asked quickly.
Raven nodded. "Briefly. He needs rest."
He nodded, slipping past the gothic girl and the delighted alien girl who was bouncing in place with the most childlike expression of joy.
"I will go inform Robin and Cyborg at once!" Starfire declared and left, presumably, to find them. Aqualad was too preoccupied with the figure on the bed to really take notice of the red-haired girl's departure.
Beast Boy was on one of the sickbay beds, about as carefully tucked into the blankets as one could get. The bed was the kind that was about as comfortable as sleeping on a slab of concrete, unless you were either considerably drugged or in a state of forcibly induced unconsciousness. Beast Boy probably fit into both categories.
Aqualad stopped at Beast Boy's bedside, heart suddenly beating slower than it had been a few seconds ago. His eyes automatically assessed the damage. The only noticeable injuries were the scrapes and bruises, at least on first glance. Beast Boy's right cheek was swollen and a deep shade of purple peeked out from the cover of gauze, which was already spotted faintly with blood. His left arm was broken, possibly fractured a few of his ribs, a head injury from that bandages wrapped there, but no concussion if Raven was allowing him to sleep. He was hooked up to an IV and the medical equipment was monitoring his vitals.
Aqualad let out the bated breath, feeling the fury he'd been holding on to slide away from him, to be replaced by a gentler feeling. Beast Boy was okay. They could deal with these kinds of injuries. Considering how Beast Boy went down, Aqualad had been expecting something of a corpse to look at. Beast Boy would just be out of commission for a few weeks.
He smiled slightly, noting how the bandages wrapped around the younger boy's head was making his hair stick up in odd clumps. Before he could realise what he was doing, Aqualad reached out and tried to smoothen out the messy hair with a gentle hand. It was matted in blood, but that would wash off easy.
Just then, Beast Boy's eyes opened just a crack and smiled. This small, but faint smile, and asked, in the only way Beast Boy could, though his voice was quiet:
"Did you see that 360 I did in the air? I bet you couldn't do that."
Aqualad smiled back, a bit shaky still, and could feel that expanding feeling in his chest again, but wrote it off as relief. If Beast Boy was bragging and making a joke out of it, then... everything really was okay.
"Yeah, I saw. That was wild."
/ end /