Disclaimer: See Chapter 10.
"So wise so young, they say, do never live long."
~William Shakespeare
Chapter 11: Jericho Falls
Then the flute was gone, landing a few hundred feet away. Jericho stood, looking a little groggy but determined. He fixed his eyes on Mel, whose confusion had quickly turned to grief.
Two minutes.
Robin realized with growing apprehension that a crowd had formed around them. They were muttering excitedly, not quite sure what was going on. But Robin knew all too well what was going to happen, and right now he only wished that the two young children near the front of the crowd were not present to witness it.
Jericho hugged her tightly, then pushed her out to arm's length, staring directly into her tear-filled eyes. With a shaky hand, she drew the blade from beneath her coat. The crowd had gone still. To Robin's relief, the mother of the children had covered their eyes and was now pulling them back through the crowd.
It happened very quickly and without warning. A red pulse of electric power snaked between the demon-killing blade and Mel, exploding. The blade fell far away from any of the Titans, and Mel was thrown in the opposite direction, where she remained, motionless except for the residual red electricity.
Time's up.
Jericho's eyes were wide with surprise, then with pain. His mouth opened to a silent scream, but instead the Marks of Scath appeared on his arms and legs and forehead. He rose in the air, much like Raven had.
Trigon was coming.
Robin still couldn't move.
The horror of the sight of Jericho's eyes splitting into four glowing red slits and his obvious agony had made him forget that there was absolutely no sound. It took the faint scrape of metal on concrete for him to remember. Slade had picked up the blade. He was walking towards his son, who hung suspended above the ground. Apparently, Jericho had heard this as well, because he blinked. For a moment, his wide green eyes returned. He mouthed something Robin wished he couldn't make out.
Kill me.
Slade stood for a moment, paralyzed by uncertainty and regret and whatever it was that reminded him that he was a father. Then Jericho's eye disappeared and Trigon's returned. The Marks of Scath lifted off Jericho's body, preparing to form the three red rings. Jericho let one last silent scream.
It was enough. Slade stiffened, resolved. One lunge, just like the one Mel had done in the dream. The blade slid into Jericho's heart, and his blood dripped down the blade. Red blood. Human blood.
The red light disappeared in an instant. Jericho falls from his suspension into the blade, held up by his father. His arms wrap around Slade.
"Thank you." He mouths.
Jericho's arms go limp.
Slade lays him down like he would a small child, like he must have when Jericho was younger. The blade is still in his hand, covered in his son's blood. Actually, it had leaked everywhere: down his chest, onto his arms, a few smears on his mask. For a moment, Slade stares at the blood, then at his son.
Sharp whispers rose around them. The crowd had found its voice again.
Slade whips around, now aware there are people watching. His eyes meet with Robin's momentarily. Then he is gone, dashing through the back alley.
He had been crying.
Mel wails. She had just gotten up just in time to see her boyfriend killed. She's by the body now, sobbing. Robin can move again.
The sound of a jet comes from behind. Raven, wrapped in black energy, had taken off.
The remaining Titans gather around the body of their friend.
Aside from the gash on his heart, Jericho looks at peace. Robin stifles the urge to laugh. Only Jericho could make this amount of blood look peaceful. Starfire pulls Mel into a hug. Cyborg puts a hand on Beast Boy's quivering shoulders. Mel's gasps had subsided to deep, controlled breaths. She pulls away from Starfire, blue light spilling out of the corners of her eyes like mist, and said in an earth-shaking voice, "Return."
Jericho's body glows blue-white, then, in a burst, blue-white mist escapes from the boy. It fills the street, billowing out and up. Robin stood in complete awe, he could hear the whispers of thousands of dreams slipping past his grasp. It separates into individual blue wisps that float up to the sky. He wondered vaguely how they would look from below, the schools of dreams swimming back to relight the city and awaken their creators.
Melody was sobbing again. Reality snaps back into place.
Robin kneels down and picks up Jericho's body. He begins to walk away. "Titans," he says in as steady a voice as he could manage, "Let's get our fallen friend back to the Tower."
In his haze, he's aware that he passes a live camera crew. That doesn't matter now. It's hard for anything to matter now.
Jericho is dead.