One-shot, character death fic:
Look, I seriously just wrote this with absolutely no true purpose. And I'm also on me iPod doing it... no access to a computer that has my other stories on it... don't ask.
Here we go! Heh...heh.
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Robin slumped over, his head slowly looking down toward his crimson covered chest. His gaze flickered upward as he did so, only to be greeted with a look of utter horror and a sadistic smile. His hand sluggishly moved toward it and he gingerly touched the plethora of red the flowed from the gun shot wound. He fell back against the brick wall, eyes under the mask flickering upward as black dots danced in and out of his vision. The edges were fuzzy, images blurred together and his head rolled.
He whimpered, the pain unbearable. He watched as Batman, no... Bruce, punched the cruel thug in the face. The man hit the side of the alley fast, his head snapped back against the brick with a sickening crack. He fell down, unconscious, on the floor of the alley.
They were in Crime Alley.
He blinked a few times, Bruce rushed towards him, he yelled that everything was going to be okay. It wasn't like the last time. It was alright.
He felt a stabbing pain in his chest; it was either from Bruce putting pressure on it, most likely trying to create a tourniquet, or him realizing that it wasn't okay. That he was going to die. That he would never see Babs, or Alfred, or the Manor, or the team or League. He would never see them again. The thought seemed bearable before, he knew the risks. But thinking of it now... it seemed to hard.
It hurt to breath and as the seconds passed, his breath became mere rasps. It seemed as if he were slowly suffocating, his breath running short like fhe say dis to the night, overpowered by darkness.
He blinked, realizing that the mask was gone, his face vacant. He hadn't known Bruce took it off. He looked up at Bruce, the man pulling him into his arms and yelling for him to be okay, as of his will alone should keep Richard alive.
It wasn't working.
The boys eyes began to shut, slowly they went down; his breathes shortened, his chest began to slowly contract, his hope dwindled...
Everything was not okay.
And as he lay against that cold hard brick wall, coldness and sweat rushing down his face, he heard Bruce telling him he'd be okay, that he'd be alright, that he was finally safe.
The pain hardened him but he listened with the little strength he could muster in his fathers arms. His eyes finally closed and the man sobbed, still speaking to him as if it were all a nightmare.
It wasn't okay.
It wasn't alright.
But he was finally safe.
He was escaping the pain. He didn't have to deal with it anymore; it was leaving him and he was leavin it. For good. No longer mourning over his parents, willing them to be alive. No longer dealing with it.
He was finally safe.
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Well that was depressing... Took place during S1... Review?