Triggers: minor spoilers for "Before the Dawn," violence, and character death
Disclaimer: Cartoon Network owns this show. That's why it's on hiatus.
Sacrifice
The world was going to end the same day it was going to be saved.
Everything was coming together. Tigress was really Artemis and Kaldur was still a hero and the Light had been infiltrated and the human race knew the Reach was evil and they were winning this final battle, this brawl in the only land-stationed building the aliens had. Contusions dotted flesh and blood dripped from open wounds and breath came in angry, broken huffs but it didn't matter because they were so closeto victory.
Bart was ecstatic, practically dancing as he fought, sending nonsensical jokes across the mind link because they were crashing the mode, replacing all he'd ever known with something beautiful and golden and pure—
An anguished scream from Jaime resounded in his mind.
Panicked questions came from all the heroes, but Blue Beetle was no longer connected. Fear closing his throat, Bart finished with his opponent and began a frantic search, trying to find his friend.
"Jaime?" he gasped when he spotted the teen, eagle-spread in the combustion room of the factory. "Jaime!"
Speeding over, he dropped to his knees and shook him. "G-get up, Jaime. C'mon, please, get up."
A hand grabbed his wrist, splintering bone and bruising flesh, and as Blue Beetle rose, towering over the speedster, it was the beast from Bart's nightmares glowering at him.
"Your little friend is gone," the creature growled.
"No," he protested, voice pitifully weak, thoughts losing contact with the Team as they were clouded with ash and pain and dread and hopelessness.
"Yes." The monster shoved him to the floor, kicking him in the stomach before digging a foot into his spine. "Jaime is no longer in control."
"How?" It was choked and sniveling and pathetic but he didn't care, he couldn't care when the last chance of saving mankind was slipping right from his grasp.
"Emergency programming was installed. Instantaneous host absorption. Once realizing what problems such a hostcould cause, did you truly believe that the Reach would not be prepared for a catastrophe like this?" Seeming to click his tongue in disappointment, Blue Beetle crouched beside Bart and grasped his chin harshly. Forcing the boy to look at him, he sneered, "That is what is wrong with you humans: you leave things to fate. You are unprepared. You are inferior."
"We are not," he returned, words slipping through gritted teeth.
His head was slammed against the floor, and stars burst before his eyes as the world dimmed, figures from the future emerging from the murky haze. Blinking rapidly, he forced them away—it wasn't too late, it couldn't be too late—and focused on his tormentor. "You won't win."
Blue Beetle only laughed, a metallic clanging that rattled off the walls. "Don't lie to me. I know who you are, and I know that we win." Ripping the goggles from Bart's head, he jeered, "You are not a hero, are you? Just a scared little boy who wants to make the monsters go away."
Bart couldn't contain the small "What?" that emerged.
Smirking in response, Blue Beetle continued, "All of his memories are mine. And you, Bart Allen, time traveler, are so prominent among them. I hear you as you whimper about the apocalypse we inflict, the misery you meat bags endure. I see the terror in your eyes, just like I do now."
"I'm not afraid of you," he protested.
A fist crashed into his cheek, dangerously close to his eye. Flayed skin burned in the open air.
"You are afraid," Blue Beetle insisted, delivering another strike. "That's why you ran in the first place. You didn't want to face your life anymore. You didn't want to face me."
"I came back to prevent you jerks from ruining my planet!"
"By doing what, exactly? Running?" Chuckling, he murmured darkly, "You're nothing but a coward. You run from your problems. But now, there's nowhere to go, and no one to save you."
Nausea washed over him as he looked at his torturer, the creature that plagued his dreams and dominated his life, and he wanted to protest, tell him how wrong he was but the words caught in his throat, stumbling over themselves because maybe it was true, maybe he just came back to get away, maybe he wasn't a hero.
Taking advantage of the silence, Blue Beetle mused, "You will be my slave. That's what you used to tell the host, didn't you? That I was your master?" Yanking Bart to a sitting position, the alien whispered, "Beg for your life, little boy, and perhaps I will spare you."
"Not a chance," he spat.
Anger contorted the armored face, and in the next instant, Bart was thrown against the wall, body crumbling from the impact, lungs left without oxygen. Struggling to breathe, he had no time to register the alien's approach, not until he was upon him. Blows came consecutively, punches and kicks, so rapidly that he, even seeing through a speedster's eyes, could not process what was happening. His body erupted into pain, every inch of him throbbing in blistering agony, and it took all his self-control not to scream because, if he was going to die, it was going to be with dignity.
"Perhaps you are not as weak as I thought." Blue Beetle stepped back, as though admiring his work. Raising his arm, he brought forth the sonic cannon. "I suppose there is no prolonging this game, then."
Licking blood-encrusted lips, Bart stared at his hands and mentally prepared himself, said good-bye to his friends and his family, conjured up a Heaven that he had never believed in until then, imagined that his demise would actually make a difference. It was almost funny, how quickly he reacted to imminent death. Almost.
"No!"
Head snapping up, Bart observed Blue Beetle, body completely rigid. For a split second, he was convinced he was wrong until Jaime's voice came again: "Run, Bart! Run!"
"Jaime! You're—"
"Get out!" Head swinging rapidly, its gaze rested on the boiler. "Get out! I have to end this!"
Realization crushing him, he gasped, "No! You can't do that! Jaime!"
"Silence, meat!" The cannon shot at him, and he was only saved by his super speed. "I am in control! Your friend is dead!"
"I am not!" Jaime emerged, clearly batting for power. Managing to make eye contact with Bart, he pleaded, "Please, hermanito, run!"
And the nickname, Spanish for little brother, brought him to his feet, and with I'm sorry's and Don't do this dancing on his tongue, he fled. It was wrong because saving the planet was his mission, his burden to bear, and no one else was supposed to suffer and there had to be another way, any other way, and if only he was more prepared, smarter, stronger, better—
As his feet touched grass, the explosion shook his body and echoed in his heart, and he skidded to a stop and sank to his knees, hyperventilating. He seemed to sit there for eternity.
"Bart? Bart!" Wally, having taken up his old mantle for this task, embraced him. "Oh, thank God. What the heck happened? You cut the link, we've been freaking—"
"Did we win?" he asked bluntly.
"Yeah. Yeah, we did." Wally stared at him oddly. "Bart, what's wrong?"
"Jaime's gone."
"We'll find him."
"No. He's gone." With a shaky breath, he whispered, "The Scarab took over. He…he managed to get back in control but he blew up the boiler because that was the only option and he's d-dead, he wasn't suppose to die, it's not f-fair, it wasn't h-his fault—"
"Don't think like that. He might be fine. The armor's pretty tough, he might've lived. Look, the others are at the Bio-ship, we'll send a search party, it'll be okay. Okay?"
It wasn't okay but he nodded anyway, allowing the older boy to help him to the ship, and he sat, wordlessly, as Cassie and Bee went to scan the wreckage for their teammate and Megan tended to his wounds.
No one was celebrating. They had, quite literally, saved the world, and not one person was celebrating. How could they when a teammate might be dead?
Was. Bart knew. He didn't even contemplate the alternative. There was no point.
That didn't make it any easier when Cassie and Bee returned, Cassie sniffing as she carried the limp, charred body of Jaime. Tenderly, she placed him down amidst the unbearable silence.
"Oh, my," Megan breathed, hugging Garfield to her. "Oh, no."
"What happened?" Connor snarled, hands clenched into fists.
"He sacrificed himself," Bart offered. "Before the Scarab could completely rule him. Before he became Blue Beetle forever."
No one answered. There was nothing to say.
Approaching the body, Bart knelt beside him, staring at the face, distorted with melted metal, Jaime's unseeing eyes surrounded by surreal blue. "You weren't supposed to die," he managed, allowing the tears to flow free. "You were supposed to teach me Spanish, a-and actually ask Cassie out, and pass that stupid AP test, a-and s-s-save more p-people and live, please, Jaime, live, don't, it's not, you weren't…"
Strong arms enveloped him, and he didn't know who it was but he accepted the warmth, burying his head into the chest and sobbing.
In his time, crying was worthy of punishment, a public beating and the wearing of a sign that said Worthless. There was no weakness in his time. Now, though, his time was nothing more than memories. No more scavenger rights or dust or days like nights, no more slavery or experimentation or constant fear.
Jaime died for that, the right to live and be free and cry.
And if Jaime surrendered himself for that, Bart might as well take advantage of it.