Red Arrow slowly pulls his boot up and out from under the pile of yellow sand. As he thrusts his foot back down, his boot fills with more sand until the granules dig down beneath the centimeter between his shoe and his sock and rub against his skin until it blisters and bleeds.
He drops to his knees and then sits on the warm sand. He slips slowly as he rests since the sand below him trickles down the slope. He pulls his boot off and wriggles his toes after he frees them from his sand-clogged boot and sweaty socks. Where the hell am I?
He walks around and tries to remember where he is. He licks his dry lips and finds his tongue is just as dry. He realizes where he is. I'm some place really fucking hot.
Roy pats himself down in search for something useful like a canteen. All he finds is a pocketknife, some gauze and antiseptic, and a square little piece of paper. He tosses the paper and other equipment aside into his front most pockets. He stares at his bleeding and burning bare feet and dreams of water. Everything I have is more or less completely useless. I'm not prepared for a desert so I didn't plan on coming here…
The archer looks back to the path he took to this particular pile of sand. Through the hazy mirage of the desert air, he makes out his pack of arrows. He left it behind. Should I go back for it? Maybe I forgot some water in there?
He applies the gauze to his roasting toes and slowly comes to a decision. I'm going back. I have to be sure. He empties his boots of as much sand as he can before replacing them on his person.
Red Arrow tugs the hood of his costume in the hope of hiding his pale face from the boiling sun as he turns to face it. As he sinks into the sands, he wishes that the powder doesn't crawl beneath to clog his shoes once more. I can't afford to stop.
Red Arrow finally reaches his quiver after a painstakingly slow plod through the shifting desert floor. He digs madly through his bag for clues and, more importantly, water. Come on! There's got to be something useful in all this junk. Roy rummages through the last pouch of his gear with desperate hope. Nothing! There's nothing here.
He picks up a lone, broken arrow. He counts five dents along its metal shaft and, at its end, one clean slice. Where's the other half of this arrow? And who managed to cut it clear off? And…why would I keep this piece of crap? It's almost like I used everything in my bag and was so desperate that I took anything I could anything I could get my hands on.
Roy sits down. He pulls out his pocket knife and starts disassembling his quiver in hope to use the swatches of fabric to cover the most burnt areas of his skin. The archer tries to focus his thoughts as he works. How did I get here…wherever the shit this is. The last thing I remember I was with Wally and Dick…there was…somebody…dressed in all white?
The sweltering sun beats down on his skin and brings sweat to his brow. Roy groans aloud. His sore throat rasps and scratches as he voices his frustration; he voices the rest of his groans inwardly. These are the times I hating being a redhead. Damn genetic lottery had to give me the skin tone that burns beside a kiddy pool on any summer day above sixty-nine degrees. Oh, God, I'd kill for a kiddy pool right now. Just give me one and I'll wear some pink polka-dotted floaties and dab pasty sunscreen on my nose and bark like a fucking sea lion when Wally passes me his beach ball.
Roy bats a hand in front of his face as if pushing aside the great ball in the sky. He lets his arm go slack and shoves his hands into his pockets. His fingertip slices on the edge of a scrap of paper.
It's a small snapshot which Roy had tossed aside earlier. Dinah took the picture of him and Ollie on the boardwalk many years ago. The photo is surrounded by a handmade macaroni frame. The pasta is brittle and he's afraid it will crumble at his touch.
The Ferris wheel behind them shows up as a blur of motion; Dinah never was good with technology even back then. In the picture, Roy's wearing a trashy green trucker hat that's three sizes too big while Ollie's wearing a tattered red trucker hat that's three sizes too small. Ollie always looked like and ass; that man has terrible taste in hats…
Roy remembers the ice cream that day and how wonderfully cold it was. He almost gets a brain freeze just from the memory alone. He shakes and quivers. This…isn't a brain freeze. I'm…losing focus from…something…the…God, why is it so hot? Please, just turn off the heater, Ollie. I'm wearing a hoodie…no I can't just take it off…Because I want to wear it, that's why…why do you have to be such a butthead...that's not bad language, Ollie…I can talk however the fuck I want you douchebag…I learned it from your drunk ass, you ass...How is that supposed to work? You don't even know where the maid keeps the soap…No, I didn't forget about my soccer game after class…yeah, yeah, I love you too…see you later, Ollie…
"There's no one here," he says aloud, despite the pain it causes. I am stronger than this. I can beat the heat, as they say. Roy doesn't dare look to the bright sun directly, but he curses it under his breath in a rush of halfhearted murmurs. Do you hear me, Sun? I am not afraid of you. I can win.
Roy recalls how he lost that soccer game after class all those years ago. Ollie actually came to see me play and I lost. I should have tried harder.
He sits beside the remains of a snake's shed coat. The thin skin is flaking away into the hot wind one flimsy piece at a time. He counts the grains of sand around him. One, two, three…ready or not, here I come. I'm going to find you guys. You can't hide from me. I wonder if Wally's behind the curtain. Nah, that curtain is just naturally giggling. Ollie had it shipped it in special. It's one of the wonders of the ancient world…
After looking around the desert landscape, Roy has to wonder if the pyramids are nearby.
I'm never going to find Dick and Wally in all this sand. And pyramids? Those things have secret passageways. This game is going to be harder than I thought. I guess we'll have to play until I win…that could take forever…
Roy's eyes rolled back into his head. He bobbed in and out of consciousness as he thought desperately about finding his friends.
You guys? This isn't funny anymore. Where are you? You're not allowed to change hiding spots! Please come out…I promise I won't make fun of Dick's ears…Again…
No one comes. Roy has no sense of time as he waits; he can't find a sundial anywhere around. You lazy Egyptians! You waste all your time building tombs for ungrateful stiffs instead of making something fucking useful like a sundial. That's bullshit!
Roy tries to move his lips and shout. He finally finds the last strains of his voice. "Come on! I'll even say it…Ollie Ollie Oxen Free. There! Guys?" he croaks.
Fine. Be that way. I don't care. I don't want to do this anymore any more. I want to go home. Can I just go home? Roy clicks the heels of his sand-clogged boots uselessly. There's no fucking place like your own fucking sand-less home with your stupid kiddy pool and Wally's shitfaced grin.
Roy pulls out his macaroni framed snapshot and traces the outline of the blurry Ferris wheel. I want to go home, Ollie. Will you let me come home? I'll say I'm sorry and I'll actually mean it…I love Dinah and you. Mostly, Dinah, but you're not so bad, okay? Just let me come home and I'll try harder. I won't give up on our family…
Roy's last thoughts fade away; his exhaustion over takes him.
They fall on their faces as they are catapulted from the boom tube. They land in a line of picky holly bushes. Red Arrow pushes himself up by the palms of his hands. Every inch of his bare skin is covered by the dozens of red holly berries that squirted onto him the second he made his landing. As soon as he reorients himself, he finds his vision flooded by the crystal clear, blue waters of a hotel pool merely yards away. A crowd of children push each other into the cool waters and splash around wildly as the lifeguard threatens them with a shrieking, angry whistle-blowing.
Wally brushes the leaves and berry juice off his friend after Roy stares dumbly at the pool for over ten minutes. "Dude, you look like shit. At least you're up now. We thought you we're dead...I thought maybe you just looked bad because you'd be burning in the sun waiting for the buzzards, but it turns out that your face is the real problem here."
Unperturbed, Roy keeps staring and ignores Wally's words.
"Red, shut you jaw or else I'm not going let myself be seen around you anymore," Robin warns.
Roy blinks at last and turns to face his friends. Dick and Wally? They found me? And…brought me to the pool? Roy fingers the end of his shirt. He blinks again as he notices the distantly tan, not red, color. "You changed my clothes while I was sleeping!" he shouts.
Wally rubs the back of his neck. "We had to bandage you up. You were in bad sha—"
"I need some cash, Rob," Roy interrupts.
Robin quirks a brow, but hands his friend a fifty. "Are you getting some drinks?"
"Oh!" Wally hops into the air as he waves his hand. "Get me a limeade," he tells Roy, "with a little umbrella."
Roy smiles as he pockets the bill. "I love those stupid umbrellas. Did I ever tell you guys that?" The redhead frowns suddenly and, without another moment of hesitation, he embraces both of his friends at one. "And I love Wally's stupid freckles and Dick's stupid ears," he says as he squeezes them. The older boy lets them go in order to find himself some refreshments.
"I think he's still head deep in heatstroke, Rob," Wally worries.
"He's certainly acting…whelmed."
The next time they see Roy, he's knee deep in the pool despite not wearing a swim suit. Rob quickly starts charming the lifeguard in order to keep them from being kicked out after just having arrived.
Roy tosses the beach ball back to the laughing children by a rebound on the tip of his sunscreen striped nose. "I keep my goddam fucking promises," he growls out as Dick and Wally hop into the pool beside him with confused looks. He starts barking like a sealion.
The kids slowly back away from crazed redhead, but one little boy looks to Wally's slack jawed amazement and then to Dick's nervous giggles. He watches Roy fail at adjusting the pressure of his pink and white floaties while keeping his head above the water.
The little boy stops treading water and dog paddles over to the teen. He fixes the floaties for Roy with a sloppy smile. "You're cool," he declares.
Roy starts floating on his back and closes his eyes. He wades lazily across the pool. "Yeah, I'm very, very cool at last." He opens his eyes up the sky and watches the clouds roll around and block out the yellow rays of the sun.
He plays the minnow with Wally and Dick as the kid plays the pitching shark who bites him in the ass.
"Hey, Dick?" Roy asks. He continues when Dick tilts his head towards him and nods. "How did I end up in the desert?"
"There was a mummy apocalypse. It's fine. We just had to blot out the sun with a magic crystal for a bit."
"I win," Roy yells to the sun, "I fucking win."
A/N: This is was a fill for FuzzyBee013's OOC challenge in the YJ Fanfiction Challenges forum.