Snapshots: A Collection of Justice League Drabbles

The Justice League and all associated characters and locations are owned by DC Comics

Beast Boy

Garfield was trying not to be jealous.

He was very good at hiding when he was jealous. He had learned long ago that a cheeky smile and a bad joke tricked everyone into thinking everything was all right.

Even when it wasn't.

Like right now...it wasn't Impulse's fault that Flash had adopted him. But watching Flash scold his grandson-from-the-future-it-was-still-weird about taking unnecessary risks and then enveloping him in a hug and then shaking him a little and talking about how if Bart ever did anything like that again he, Barry Allen, would make sure he was benched for a year, did he copy that?

Well...that made Garfield jealous. Because Gar had no parent to shake him that way, to yell at him for going on a mission with only one person as back-up. (Said person was currently getting a similar lecture from Nightwing, and Blue was looking rather contrite.)

Yeah...it was really hard not to feel jealous.

Gar? the mental question was like a whisper

Garfield looked across the room to where M'gann was watching him with a worried frown.

What's wrong? she asked gently.

I'm just tired he replied. Big day of worrying about these two idiots, you know.

M'gann wasn't fooled, but all she said was, I love you.

It was enough.

Garfield smiled and went over to make fun of Bart for making the dumb choice of going on a mission without getting approval first.

I love you, too.

Garfield looked at his family - Nightwing was done chastising Blue and was giving him a friendly shoulder squeeze, M'gann to the side looking somewhat relieved, Superboy in the corner scowling as always, Black Canary with her hands on her hips looking exasperated, Flash, Impulse, Blue...the list went on and on - and his smile got even wider.

Batman

Batman believed in efficiency.

And in not wasting time.

And that choosing the best person for the job was as important as the job itself.

That did NOT mean he was pleased to have the flu. But after an ill-timed sneeze had almost cost him a hand and then almost falling off the roof because his headache was so bad, Batman had been forced to concede that he (1) had the flu, (2) would not be doing any patrolling for a few days and (3) would have to get Damien to work with Tim.

It was hard to tell whether Damien and Tim were angrier about the last point.

"If we're patrolling together then you need to follow my instructions," Tim was telling Damien as they got ready to go.

Damien instantly puffed out his chest. "Why do I need to follow your instructions? Why can't you follow mine?"

"I'm older."

"I'm better."

"That's a matter of opinion."

"Father! Drake says that..."

"Listen to Tim, Damien, or I'm taking you off patrol," Bruce snapped. But it sounded less impressive with the stuffy nose. And his headache was AWFUL.

Damien pouted. Tim gave Bruce a 'do I have to bring him with me' look.

Bruce wasn't in the mood for this. "BOYS," he bellowed. "YOU WILL GO OUT THERE, YOU WILL WORK TOGETHER, AND YOU WILL BOTH COME BACK IN ONE PIECE. IS THAT CLEAR?"

"Yes, sir!" they both chorused looking very surprised and fairly frightened. They left pretty quickly after that and Bruce, groaning and grumbling, took perhaps more Nyquil than was strictly advisable and went to sleep.

When he woke up, the noon-day sun was streaming through the gap in his curtains and he felt significantly better. (Although his nose was still stuffed up.)

Bruce reached for his phone and was instantly on high alert, his heart hammering. In his drug-induced slumber he had completely missed an alert and the Bat-symbol was still blinking. With two clicks, Bruce opened the summary of the night:

Red Robin, alert sent

Oracle, answered - relayed to Nightwing

Nightwing, answered

Red Robin, 2nd alert sent
Nightwing, answered

Robin, alert sent

Oracle, answered - attempted to relay to Red Hood

No answer.

Bruce's heart was pounding so fast that it hurt.

Oracle, alert sent to Red Hood

Red Hood, answered

Nightwing, ALL CLEAR, ALL SAFE

Bruce sagged against his pillows in relief and resolved to never take Nyquil again.

Superman and Superboy

The door protested of mistreatment as the armored boot hit it again.

"Where is he?" growled the boot's owner.

"I don't…"

"WHERE IS HE?!"

"I'm here." The figure clad in red and blue flew in through the hole in the roof. He took in the scene before him and commanded, "Stand back!" The small crowd ducked away from the door as twin laser beams began to melt away the hinges of the thick, metal door. The metal groaned as layers of metal peeled away. But the door was thick and the owner of the armored boots was impatient.

"Hurry," he growled.

Superman clenched his teeth together and silently pushed himself harder. The metal finally gave way and the twin beams had barely disappeared before Flash was through the door. Batman and Arrow were right behind him. Superman hesitated for a moment.

I can't hear them breathing.

Then he was through the door.

Flash had already cut down his nephew, cradling the still body of the teenager in his arms as he checked for a pulse.

I don't hear their heartbeats. Superman scanned the room and swallowed hard. What will I tell Superboy? Superboy, who he had just begun to mentor properly, finally accepting that the boy was partially his son even though Superman had never meant to have a son. Superboy who had gone back to Mars with Miss Martian and Martian Manhunter to help them take care of some trouble on the Martian's home planet.

Superboy and Miss Martian – what will I tell them both? Superman wondered.

Arrow had begun CPR on Artemis, rhythmically pumping his hands up and down, up and down on the young girl's chest, pausing to push air into her lungs and then starting again.

Batman had injected adrenaline into Robin's arm and now waited with his head bent, Superman knew he was counting silently. Swallowing hard, Superman broke apart the chains that still suspended Aqualad to the ceiling. The Atlantean was as limp as his human team-mates. Superman could see the broken bones, and felt in the coolness of his skin that it was already too late.

"Wally," Flash begged quietly. "Wally, please, what will I tell your mother?"

Batman stood, what little Superman could see of Bruce Wayne's face was a stony stillness.

Arrow still pumped his hands up and down on Artemis' chest.

"Oliver, stop," said Batman. His voice was flat. Something very cold crept down Superman's spine. Bruce…?

"We can't give up," Oliver protested. "A hospital..? Or maybe alien tech or…"

"THEY'RE GONE!" Bruce Wayne's voice echoed in the heavily reinforced bunker. "THEY KNEW THAT WE…" Batman cut himself off. But his unsaid accusation hung in the air.

They knew that we would not answer the call for help in time. They knew that their two heavy hitters were off-planet. And the League of Shadows knew that the kids would try to fight on their own.

Superman hung his head.

Batman turned around and punched the nearest wall.

Superman wondered if Batman even felt the bones in his hands shatter.

Miss Martian sank to the ground, her green eyes wide.

"Is this a joke?" Superboy demanded. "It's terrible…it's not funny…" He looked from Red Tornado to Martian Manhunter. Manhunter looked down.

Red Tornado's expression didn't change, of course. And it was he who answered, "I am sorry, Conner. It's true. The rest of the team did not make it." Superboy must have imagined it, but he suddenly thought the robot looked sad. "I am sorry."

Megan started to sob.

Superboy sank to the ground and screamed.

And they woke up. Taking solace that, once again, it was just a nightmare.

Kid Flash

Sometimes Wally missed it.

Physics, Chemistry, Modern Culture and Media, and Material Engineering textbooks we spread across his desk. The only light came from the desk-lamp and his computer. Artemis had fallen asleep ages ago as she was currently pursuing the somewhat simpler major of Kinesiology. It was somewhat dumb of Wally to be trying to get a double-major in electrical engineering and high-tech materials but he wanted a major that proved he could do what he already knew he could do but goddammit did they need to assign so much homework?!

High School had been easier. He finished his homework at super speed and had plenty of time left for fighting crime with the team. Now there was (1) more homework and (2) no more fighting crime. So Wally filled his time with interning at NASA or Star Labs and...

And sometimes he missed it.

He missed the rush of adrenaline as he fought. He missed running for something, rather than just running aimlessly to work off extra energy. He missed Dick's laugh and Kaldur's small smile and M'gann going "Hellooo, Megan," and even Superboy's pout. He missed being in the action rather than just watching it on TV.

Then he would remember how he had almost died so many times in a row, how running past a certain speed had started to burn and leave him shaking and in danger of passing out. He would remember deciding that he wanted to try a normal life and maybe, someday, he would go back.

But tonight...with the clock reading 2:17 AM and the essay only half done and the starless night outside looking cold and inviting...Wally wished that he was up late because he was helping to save the world.

Captain Marvel

Billy Batson was starting high school.

On one hand, this was a good thing. He was finally old enough to not be "the kid." He was old enough to be taken seriously when he talked about politics or Justice League related things to adults. He was old enough (almost) to get a permit which was the first step to getting a car.

People said that high school was fun, that it was prep for college and the first step to the long road called "adulthood."

Billy wasn't so sure about any of that.

Actually, he was pretty sure that he would prefer being on a mission with either the Team or the Justice League as opposed to going to high school.

Also, he had his first zit, which was horrifying.

Captain Marvel didn't get zits.

Just think of it as another mission, Billy told himself as he got off the bus and faced the sea of teenagers milling about the concrete building. And the objective is minimal humiliation with maximum learning.

Billy straightened his shoulders and tried to look like he knew what he was doing as he walked through the doors.

"Hey, Cap," Nightwing greeted Billy as the Zeta Tube took Captain Marvel to the watchtower. "How's it going?"

Cap hesitated. Then blurted out, "How do you do it?

Nightwing blinked. "Do what?"

"High school."

Nightwing looked surprised.

"The wisdom of Solomon thing isn't being totally helpful right now," Cap admitted. "It's all like; think of this as another mission with minimal humiliation with maximum learning...but it's not...I think puberty is messing with that particular power cause it's not working."

Nightwing smiled. "You know? I always forget you're younger than me."

Cap shrugged.

Nightwing got a bit more serious as he said, "There isn't any magic formula for how to do high school and this job at the same time. Everyone does it differently. There are late nights and missed days and my middle school teachers STILL think that I have a chronic illness of some kind because I missed so much school."

Cap sighed.

"But," added Nightwing. "It helped that I wasn't alone in all that." He smiled kindly at Captain Marvel. "You know, Billy, you can hang out with the team and do homework in your other form. We have a few geniuses who can help out with Algebra."

Cap nodded, his grin re-appearing. "That makes perfect sense! Thanks, Nightwing." And he continued on his way with his normal spring back in his step.

Additional Author's Note: This was the original idea behind my story "The Shadow of the Demon." If you like this, go check that out :D

Batman

They'd always known it would happen.

As time went on and the half-wild boy Talia had left with them grew into a young man with a biting tongue but a streak of loyalty that, although it had been slow to grow, was as fierce as his sarcasm. As Damien Wayne had proven that he was every bit a Wayne and cemented himself into their family...

Yeah, they'd all known that it was only a matter of time until Ra's A'Ghul would return to reclaim his grandson.

And yet...Bruce Wayne realized he hadn't expected it to happen quite this way. He had always imagined that he'd be dressed in his full Batman outfit, that they would be surrounded by black-clad assasins, and that Ra's would smile that viper-smile that never reached his eyes and say something like, "It's time you return your little bird, Batman."

At least I got the phrase right, thought Bruce in a strange burst of humor. But at the crack of dawn, with both Bruce and Damien dressed in their night clothes...that part was not ideal.

"Damien is fifteen," said Bruce evenly. "And more than capable of making this choice for himself."

Damien gave Bruce an unreadable expression and Bruce hoped that he'd said the right thing.

"I am his grandfather," said Ra's simply. "And I will be taking him."

"The house is surrounded, I take it?" asked Bruce.

Ah, there was that viper smile. "Of course," said Ra's.

"There were less violent and much less dramatic ways to resolve this, grandfather," said Damien cool. "Would you mind leaving so my father and I can discuss this?"

Bruce tried to hide his sudden surge of joy. I want Damien to stay, he admitted to himself. I don't want to lose my youngest son.

Ra's scowled. It made him look very ugly indeed.

"I'm afraid we don't have time for that," said Ra's. He reached inside of his robes - both Bruce and Damien tensed - but he only took out a cell phone. He pressed a button and lifted it to his ear, "Bring them in."

The front doors opened again (What the hell happened to my security system?) and a few of those ninjas came in, dragging two struggling shapes behind them.

"You see," said Ra's as his men pulled the two struggling shapes to their knees and put knives at their throats. "The stakes are high."

Jason was looking at Ra's with so much rage that Bruce honestly wondered how Ra's could stand so calmly next to him. Tim, meanwhile, was having a staring contest with Damien - as if trying to communicate some thought. Both Jason and Tim were bound, gagged, and visibly injured.

"I'm listening," growled Damien, his eyes going back to Ra's. Tim looked exasperated and looked at Bruce.

It took Bruce about a millisecond to realize that Tim was blinking out something in Morse code.

"Come home, Damien," said Ra's in a soothing voice.

D...I...

"Or what?" snapped Damien.

...C...

"Or I'll kill them, of course," said Ra's.

...K...

Ra's looked at Bruce. "What do you think, Bruce? Is Damien worth the life of two of your other boys?"

Dick. Where is he?

Bruce looked at Ra's coldly. "I recall that you once promised to never meddle with my family again."

Ra's narrowed his eyes. He flicked his fingers and more of his black-clad soldiers streamed in through the door. "Ah...but that was before you started meddling with mine."

And then Ra's froze, a look of surprise on his face, as one of his men was suddenly holding a gun to the back of his head.

"That's rich since it was your idea for Damien to be born in the first place," said the gun-holder. "Now...why don't we renegotiate." The gunman pulled down the black face mask to reveal a rather aggravated looking Dick Grayson with a growing black eye.

"You won't shoot me," said Ra's confidently.

"How much are you willing to bet?" asked Dick. "Besides, I like the poetry of shooting you with Jason's gun."

Jason's gun? The confusion and low-level of panic that Bruce had felt at seeing what Dick was doing instantly melted away. Jason's gun was coded to his own palm, a safety feature that had been Bruce's compromise with him - at least no one could ever use Jason's chosen weapon against him. Dick couldn't fire that gun.

So he was doing a VERY dangerous bluff indeed.

"He's not joking," said Damien seriously.

"You're all outnumbered," said Ra's coldly.

"I'm not coming with you," Damien growled, his eyes suddenly sparking and his hands balling into fists. "You understand? I'm not coming with you!"

"I suggest," Bruce growled, putting a hand on Damien's shoulder. "That you leave. Now."

When Ra's did not answer, Dick pressed the gun a bit more firmly to his head. "He said, Now," said Dick. "And no one, disobeys the Batman."

"You will regret this life, Damien," Ra's said.

Damien lifted up his chin defiantly and said nothing.

Ra's' face contracted in anger. But all he said was, "Stand down!" to his men and then "If you remove that ridiculous gun I will leave."

Ra's A'Ghul swept out of their house and out of their lives.

"Drake? Todd? You okay?" asked Damien. Jason rolled his eyes as they were still both gagged but Tim nodded.

"Good," said Damien.

"Damien?" said Bruce.

He turned. "Yes, father?"

And a very surprised Damien was enveloped in a giant hug from his father that he gratefully and joyfully returned.

Jason Todd

I hate hospitals.

The bright lights from the ceiling reflected off the white walls and the scuffed, white tile on the floor.

I don't want to be here. I don't want to need to be here.

But Jason knew he couldn't keep away. Not from this.

Jason rounded the corner and headed to the two familiar figures waiting outside of one of the surgery rooms. They were observing the operation through the glass. Tim had his arms crossed across his stomach, his gaze intense as he analyzed every movement made by the doctors. Dick was standing straight, his hands fists at his sides, as a tear slowly traveled down a cheek.

That can't be good.

"How it going?" Jason asked softly.

"Her heart stopped once already," Tim responded tightly. "They revived her and kept going…why the hell did she get in the way? She knew she wouldn't be able to move in time…"

"There was a life to save," Dick whispered. "It wouldn't have mattered to Babs…"

Jason looked through the glass and at Barbara Gordon undergoing heart surgery…because she'd saved a child from getting hit with a car, and hadn't had time to get out of the way herself.

"Damn that wheelchair," muttered Dick, another tear followed the first.

"She doesn't mind it," whispered Tim.

"But I know she was fast enough…I know…" Dick shook his head. "Ah," he whispered, sadly.

They stood there silently, watching the surgery.

Running footsteps came down the hall, and Jason started. He looked up and stepped aside silently as Commissioner Gordon and his wife came rushing up to the window. Tim swallowed hard, looking at them, and then silently walked away. Jason followed.

Only Dick stayed, as he had an easily explained reason for being there. Tim and Jason shouldn't care what happened to Barbara.

But they did; because shared trauma was a deeper bond than blood.

They sat in the lobby. Jason ordered some of the surprisingly decent coffee from the hospital cafeteria. Tim stared at his clasped hand silently. The doors swung open with a swish and Bruce hurried inside, followed by Damien. Bruce walked by without noticing them, single-minded. But Damien slowed and stopped.

"Not good, then?" he asked, looking from Jason to Tim.

Jason shook his head.

Damien nodded and sat down next to Tim. "I'm not sure what we'll do without her," Damien admitted in a whisper.

"Same thing we did before," muttered Tim.

"What do you mean?" asked Jason.

Tim gave him a swift look then looked back at his hands.

"Pray I'm wrong," Tim said shortly, and refused to say anything else.

Dick came out a long twenty minutes later.

"Hey, Dami," he said in an exhausted sort of way. Then half-collapsed into the open seat next to Jason.

"How's it…?" Damien asked.

"Her heart stopped again," said Dick grimly.

"Again?!" Damien demanded.

"Shhhh," Tim admonished. "It's a hospital."

"Did they revive her?" Jason asked.

"Yeah, and they kept going but…" Dick shrugged. "I think the new heart isn't completely compatible…"

"This is…" Damien started.

"I can't believe…" he tried again.

"Even with…" Damien attempted.

"WHY?!" Damien burst out.

None of the others had an answer.

Dick hung his head, hiding his face with one hand.

Tim looked up, watched Dick, his eyes sad. Damien and Jason exchanged worried glances. It took several minutes for Jason to realize that Dick was crying silently.

"She deserves a better death," Damien said.

"SHE DESERVES TO LIVE!" Dick yelled. He stood up and ran out before anyone could respond or stop him.

"Shit," muttered Tim. He stood up and followed Dick.

"I didn't mean it in that way," muttered Damien.

"Dick knows that," said Jason. "He's just stressed."

"No, he's mourning," said Damien angrily. "She's not dead yet."

Jason simply shrugged, his eyes restless as he followed the wavering lines of his reflection in the white tiles. I hate hospitals.