She sees it when they're a steady fifteen klicks above America.

A second.

Static fire in the cabin and how steady he keeps his voice but it's hiding in there. She's sure she's the only member blinded to it in the history of ever. How Conner had ever refrained from fixing i--

No.

No.

He's good at what he does. He's earned it. Doubt in this moment when the world needs her to save it, she's...well, doing a crap job.

Focus.

Only now that she's seen it, the idea just won't go away.

He's human.

Dropped on his knees against metal floor in heat and shadow. He'll never stop being vulnerable now that his tongue's been on her lips.

She's going to help him back to his feet, but there's suddenly noise and chaos. When he shifts, awkward against her, she forgets that he's helpless. Those unreal eyes are boring into her, expecting action in this instant of need.

If he's trying to tell her that her hesitation is going to kill them all, she can only hear that it will be the death of him.

No.

She has to remember that he had always been the best of them. Leading and winning and making everyone else feel as if they had yet to pull their share of the weight. Had this been completely untrue?

Oh, you are such a liar, Tim.

Every smirk, every slink and every single illusion wants to be ripped away in a well of violent air. It's loud and she sees his teeth grit as gravity relinquishes it's will. For a moment, she can grab him but the force will be just enough to snap his shoulder from his socket. Gauntlets cling to a bulkhead as the Wingman swings out of control.

Such a tentative grasp. She knows how Conner felt about it all. If their roles were reversed and she had become the axe wedged between everything, than it's Superboy's hearing that may pick up the breath sucked free of his lungs. The heartbeat, raging to be saved.

Or...he's not a liar. Trust. He trusts someone to fix this.

The voice asking if it's out of necessity or love, well, it's not her own.

When she tells them to hold on, she's not sure how much she means it. This entire business is run on miracles and perhaps she's never earned her share. Hera, smite them all for ever making this look easy. There are things she cannot afford to lose right now and they're calmly waiting terrified inside, literally the weight atop of her shoulders.

Stop. Just...stop. Everything is going to--

He's bruised. He has to be bruised. Through smoke and dusty debris, he's a shadow growing and for a second, she almost wishes he were someone else. Her fingers are going to fall off.

There has to be a great equalizer. It's going to be the only way she'll ever see it work with him. Their placements reversed now that she's on her knees, stones cutting through the fabric of her uniform. She wants to ask if he had been scared. Even a little.

Pallas, make him shy away. Nothing said. Nothing please be said.

"Ouch."

And if that's wisdom, maybe it's enough. She does hurt, her whole body ringing. She wants him to know that this whole ordeal hurts and she's human enough to feel it.

I'm not better than you. How did Conner do this, how did--

His answer is just another screwed up layer. "I didn't know you were that strong."

Oh, shut up. Can the awed mortal routine because it defeats the purpose and...and...

"Me either."

A mistake, he had said. His blasphemy with the memory of Conner, not so different from her own. The way he had accepted her body like it had been the most natural thing. The entire year a tangle of mistakes and he had told her so much.

And Cassie, dear...you agreed.

He's delegating once more. Steady and self-assured. She falls into the commands only because it feels a little bit like old times. Can she dare believe that it's all retrievable?

She trusts his directions. Hell, she'd even trust his intentions. The secrets beneath the illusion can't be so bad if the illusion feels so soft.

We can have this back. Promise me that you're still trying, down there in your dark hollow world.

There is no "Titan's Go!" If there never is again, she'll somehow move on. It's a tough fight to overcome the urge that longs to look back on the melee she's leaving behind. It's not going to be pretty and she knows that a vital piece is still out of play. Girl intuition, perhaps.

He'll also have sensed it, being who he is. She...can easily trust that.

You'll be okay, Tim. Five minutes, tops. You don't need me, nor did you ever need friends like us. You just...wanted it.

Yeah.

Great equalizer. And even if she's wrong, he'll still manage. With or without all of them.

It's got to be a Bat thing.

Kon, did you ever figure it out?