Wind and the Snow Part V
by Nikoru-chan
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies: the characters portrayed herein belong, with the exception of my original characters, to DC, Warner Bros, and whoever else. Not me. I am making no profit from this fic, now or ever. Don't bother suing, it'd be a waste of time and money.
Author's notes: Sorry this chunk took so long. Real Life (or as close to it as scholastic pursuits combined with major technological difficulties ever get) intruded into my fic-writing time. I know, I know, most impolite of it. At any rate, a great big 'thank you' goes to all those people who sent comments on the story thus far, and thanks for waiting (more or less) patiently for this part. Incidentally, in light of the more extensive involvement of Young Justice, I've attempted a small amount of humour. Unfortunately, I'm no Peter David, so blink and you'll miss it. As always, I'd really, really love some C&C. **hopeful, puppy-dog eyes**
**...** = thoughts (would be italics if I could get my coding to work)
*...* = emphasis + thoughts not shared. Hopefully it'll be fairly obvious which is which.
The conversation had indeed been an odd one, though the violence was unexpected. Not by the observers, panicking in their impotence, but by those engaging in said conversation.
It was, Robin realised, the first time Kaguya had ever addressed him directly.
As she spoke with him mind to mind, he could see why.
It was very nearly overwhelming. Only the certain sense that, like J'onn J'onzz, she was restraining nearly all of her mighty mind to keep him safe allowed him to cope. Only the fact that the sensation was vastly different from the Doctor's intrusions, and imbued with a warmth and caring distinctly lacking from the Doctor's mental probes, kept him from running away screaming.
After the initial shock of first contact, the content of what Kaguya was conveying registered. Then, the sensations of mental linkage seemed unimportant. Then, Robin had other things to worry about.
**Little Bird, oh little one, I'm so sorry about this!** Kaguya's distress, sharp-flavoured, echoed in his mind. **I've made trouble for you with your compatriots, your friends. Please believe me, though, when I swear that my need is dire.
**Yuki is gone.** At the three, simple mental words, Robin felt his blood run cold. Summoning all his considerable discipline, he responded, his reply flying as quickly as thought.
**How? To where? By whom?** Fear, fear of the Doctor, or rather the remnants of his Organisation, coloured his thoughts with swift anxiety.
**We do not know. We cannot track her, at least not from here.**
Quick as ever on the uptake, Robin realised that Kaguya had not come in despair, but with a plan.
**From where can you track her, then? How do I help?**
**To find her, I shall need to go home, back to my Plane of existence.** In a complicated thought-burst, she forestalled his inquiry, sending him all the information he needed, and more besides.
Kaguya, as Robin had long since surmised, was not human. Rather, she was an entity, a princess if you will, from the Celestial Plane. Coming to earth 'a short while ago' - several centuries by human reckoning - she had indulged in a number of adventures, more recently including the rescue from some rather unscrupulous humans of a by-then somewhat bedraggled six-tailed fox demon - a Kitsune - who (unlike Kaguya herself) was *not* enjoying his sojourn in the Human Plane. This 'being in distress' had turned out to be the Shishou, nominally a resident of the Demon Plane. The unlikely pairing had grown into a strong friendship, the life-debt turning into a deeper, more lasting bond. The new tie was sufficiently strong, in fact, to ensure the Shishou's assistance in the care of a certain clan of humans to whom Kaguya served as protector. The Mireba clan.
Ninjas for centuries, Kaguya had deemed them strong both in the martial arts and in purity of purpose. Strong enough to act as a safeguard for her sacred robe, the Hagoromo, without which she could not return to the celestial Plane that was her home, but in physical contact with which her actions could be easily monitored (and chastised) by the less adventurous members of the clan she had left behind.
So she had transformed the fine robe of multicoloured feathers into a single hairlike strand, and had entrusted it to the family, where it had been passed down as a sacred treasure for generations. And she had protected that family, and especially the bearers of the robe, throughout that time, joined much later in her self-imposed task by the Shishou.
Then the robe had passed to Kaze.
Then Kaze had been kidnapped.
By the time Kaguya knew of this, sufficient amounts of Kaze's memory had been erased that he'd been unable - unaware of how - to use the Hagoromo to communicate with Kaguya, to summon her to his rescue.
As his mind neared it's final extinction at the hands of the Doctor, he had passed the robe onto Robin, in a display of trust and hope that Kaguya had never seen paralleled.
**He gave it to you. Even if he didn't know completely what he was doing, he wanted you to have that protection. He made you his Family.**
Staggered, Robin tried to remember such a gift. Drawing blank after blank then suddenly . . . *The hair! That time, when he first braided my hair! He used a tie, one I never found again, to fasten the plait! That was the Hagoromo!* Dimly, he could sense Kaguya's approval, and through her, oddly, the Shishou's. Pleasure at his ability to work out the 'mystery' by himself.
But sentiments that would normally have filled him with proud delight filled him with only a sense of dread. **Kaguya - the strand! I never used it to tie my hair again! The second time I braided it, I used a strip of my shirt. After that, the Doctor had it put in a high ponytail. I don't know where the Hagoromo strand is!** His panic washed over the unruffled Kaguya, who merely smiled in return.
**That, little one, is because you internalised it. You could not have done better if you'd been trained to the task of Hagoromo Bearer from birth. It is at the moment inside you, tied around your heart and threaded through your being, as safe as you can make it, just like the Mireba Clan always promised.**
**Then you will need to get it out! To return home!**
**Indeed I will,** She paused, **But it will hurt. A lot. Once again, I'm sorry, but it is bound within you, mind and body. I . . . I'll need your help to do it.**
**It's for Yuki. Anything you need. I can't lose her. Not like I lost Kaze. Anything at all that you need!**
Kaguya nodded once, gravely, and then plunged her fingers into his chest, the claw-like edges of her sharpened nails splitting easily first Kevlar, and then flesh. At the same time, her mind dove into Robin's very essence, unbinding a single strand from the weave of his mind.
With almost clinical detachment Robin noted that, as always, Kaguya was right: It hurt. A lot. Almost as badly as his torture at the hands of the Doctor, but without the sweet promise of unconscious oblivion. For this time, Robin had to stay awake, this time he had to help.
With a cry like a dying bird, Robin collapsed into the Shishou's waiting arms, every inch of him exploding in pain as the strand wound around his heart, bound through his entire self, was carefully, and agonisingly, unpicked.
That was when all hell broke loose.
Robin's 'compatriots', trapped on the outside of the barrier Kaguya had erected, watched the proceedings in horror. Desperately, Nightwing, Superboy, Wondergirl and Troia tried to pound their way through. Their brute force was no more successful than Impulse's vibrations or Empress' teleportation.
*********
With a sigh, Kaguya withdrew her fingers, bloodied, from the ragged punctures in Robin's chest. Snared around her index finger was a single fine strand, as iridescent as opal. Gently, she shook the strand, each movement spattering blood in a fine arc around her, each movement increasing the volume of the strand she held until it returned to it's full glory. Truly, it was a mantle fit for the celestial princess whose shoulders it adorned.
Behind her, the Shishou gently placed Robin on the ground, frowning at the thin trickle of blood from his mouth and nose; apparently, Kaguya had nicked a bronchus. Nothing I can't fix. A small burst of foxfire, and the healing was complete, only a messy smear of blood, and the two puncture holes in the Kevlar indicated any trauma at all, let alone the slicing dissection that had nearly shredded the boy's heart and being.
The Hagoromo's familiar weight settled around her, Kaguya turned to the now slackly unconscious Robin.
**I know, when you awaken, you will hear my words, little one. I thank you. I thank you for your care of the Hagoromo, and for your assistance in it's retrieval from your body. I return to my Plane now, as your Shishou returns to his, to continue the hunt for Yuki in our proper elements, using all the talents and devices at our disposal. When you awaken, I ask that you search on this Plane using all of your human abilities. The three of us shall not fail. Be in peace, little one, and be ready, for Yuki needs you, as do we all.**
With the grace born of a heavenly court, Kaguya, now every inch the celestial princess, nodded to the Shishou. A flick of her wrist, and the barrier was dispelled, the Titans and Young Justice falling into an ungainly heap as the resistance to their efforts suddenly vanished. A heartbeat later, Kaguya soared skywards on an errant sunbeam, becoming translucent before disappearing, while the Shishou settled for the less showy, but equally effective, method of simply winking out of existence.
Behind them, a small horde of humans and their metahuman counterparts charged towards the still figure of Robin. Needless to say, Impulse was the first to reach him.
It took him a long moment to confirm that the Boy Wonder yet lived, though much less time to assess the punctured Kevlar and bloody trickle oozing from Robin's nose and mouth. A mere instant beyond that, he'd transported his friend to the Tower sickbay, vibrated off the Kevlar armour and the green tunic beneath.
When the rest of the two teams arrived, it was this manner in which they found him. Tunic still in hand, his normally easy-going features were twisted into an expression of sickened horror.
Before anyone could even speak, Impulse had dashed across the room, barring entrance to Nightwing with a look of pure determination that seemed, to his friends, as out of place as his earlier revulsion.
"What'd you *do* to him?" He demanded, furious.
"What?" Nightwing, confused, paused. "Is he okay?"
"He's fine, just out cold. No wound, even," Superboy called from the bedside, having confirmed his diagnosis with one of the numerous diagnostic scanners the sickbay had available.
"Hey, Imp? What's up?" Startled by his uncharacteristic behaviour, Wondergirl paused behind Nightwing, still in the doorway blocked by Impulse.
"The only other time I saw marks like that it was on a friend of mine," Impulse snarled, "his mother had been beating him. Badly. Is this why Robin went missing?! You bat-people . . . doing *that* to him?!!"
Nightwing, shocked, could only stare. A moment later, when he found his voice, the deadly intensity of it frightened everyone in the room. Including himself.
"It wasn't us 'bat-people'. Robin got kidnapped. The scum who took him did . . . that. And worse."
"Worse? What could be worse?"
"Let's just say there's a reason he doesn't remember any of you." Unwilling to tell the whole story without his little brother's consent, Nightwing left it at that, standing his ground in the face of the angry and inquiring stares Young Justice levelled at him.
"Who was it? Who took Robin?" Soft, yet heard clearly by all in the room, Secret's voice cut through the tension with the sharp blade of anger.
"Too late to think of revenge, mist girl. The scumbag is already dead. Out of your reach."
"Not necessarily."
Throughout the whole exchange, Impulse's eyes never wavered from Nightwing's face. The yellow gaze examined him minutely, weighing, measuring. Nightwing met that gaze with his own. Nodding slightly, apparently satisfied with the truth in his words, Impulse turned away, moving out of Nightwing's path to allow him access to Robin's bedside.
Having confirmed for himself that his little brother was merely unconscious and otherwise uninjured, Nightwing turned to the now lividly angry Arsenal, escorting him out of the sickbay and towards the rec room before the flame-haired archer could make good on his muttered threat of roast bird on a skewer. The master shot did *not* take kindly to being punched out by a kid sidekick.
Behind him, the various members of Young Justice found chairs or walls to slump against, as they turned to watch over their currently frail-looking leader.
"Well, this sure as heck wasn't how I thought this reunion would go." Superboy voiced the consensus sentiment.
"Could be worse."
"This is Young Justice. Of course it could be worse."
Pause.
"That didn't come out quite the way I meant."
**********************
Robin awoke with a single, burning need in his head. *Get up. Get moving. Get to a computer and hack into Oracle's network. Find information. FIND YUKI!!!*
Eyes still closed, consciously forcing his breathing to mark the deep regularity of sleep, he stretched out his senses. Touch came to him first; he lay on his back, head propped on a pillow. Undressed to the waist, but nonetheless covered, presumably by a sheet, from it's smooth feel. Cool air brushing against his face.
Scent next, the sterile reek of an infirmary. But he wasn't bound, and the odour was subtly different from both the Cave and the Organisation's labs, so he was fairly unconcerned by this. Sound followed; the nearly inaudible hum of an air conditioning unit. Slight rustlings of someone - several someones - shifting in chairs. One against what had to be a wall, two over near the far side of the bed.
*Three in the room? Which ones? Let's see, I can disable - *His mental list was interrupted by the entrance of a fourth sound. This measured tread was one he knew well, his big brother, walking not with the light spring he so often bounded with, but the heavy gait of one with the world on his shoulders. *I'm sorry Nightwing. I ruined all your effort. And I'm about to make it worse.* Silently he waited, listening as the shuffling sounds stopped, then after an instant were replaced by the noises of several people getting up to leave, some more hesitantly than others.
"We'll, uh, just wait outside while you, y'know, see how he's going." Superboy's voice, the normal brash confidence seemingly sapped from it, came from Robin's left. *So, that's where the doorway is.*
"Hey Little Brother." A gentle hand traced his forehead, checking for fever, for the tightness of pain. Robin kept his breathing even.
"I just want you to know it's not your fault. Donna doesn't blame you either, and Roy'll come around. You obviously trusted that pair, whoever they were. Didn't expect them to turn around and try to gut you. Then again, if someone'd told me Batman would just give away your identity after all you've gone through to protect it, I'd have laughed in their face. See? So people can always surprise you. Like that whole 'Master' bit. Sure surprised me, Little Brother, but just at the moment your explanation can wait." He paused, and Robin's heart ached; misguided as he was as to the reasons behind the 'attack', it was obvious that Nightwing cared greatly for him, Kaguya's 'victim'.
"That said, soon as you wake up, I'm *so* gonna kick your ass for not countering that chick when she went to pull a stunt like that! And you thought riding a train blindfold was tough! You ain't seen nothing yet, kiddo!" As Nightwing turned to leave, Robin had to fight back a smile; Yep, that was his Big Brother all right! *And I wouldn't have it any other way!*
The room was empty then, for a few precious seconds as Nightwing stood outside the door, speaking to the rest of Young Justice. Robin's eyes flew open, vision seeking that which tactile sensation had already confirmed.
There, overhead, was an air conditioning vent.
Nightwing left, and the others re-entered the sick bay as quietly as possible so as not to disturb its occupant. An occupant who, it soon became readily apparent, was no longer there.
For the second time in the space of a few hours, all hell broke loose.
*****************
by Nikoru-chan
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies: the characters portrayed herein belong, with the exception of my original characters, to DC, Warner Bros, and whoever else. Not me. I am making no profit from this fic, now or ever. Don't bother suing, it'd be a waste of time and money.
Author's notes: Sorry this chunk took so long. Real Life (or as close to it as scholastic pursuits combined with major technological difficulties ever get) intruded into my fic-writing time. I know, I know, most impolite of it. At any rate, a great big 'thank you' goes to all those people who sent comments on the story thus far, and thanks for waiting (more or less) patiently for this part. Incidentally, in light of the more extensive involvement of Young Justice, I've attempted a small amount of humour. Unfortunately, I'm no Peter David, so blink and you'll miss it. As always, I'd really, really love some C&C. **hopeful, puppy-dog eyes**
**...** = thoughts (would be italics if I could get my coding to work)
*...* = emphasis + thoughts not shared. Hopefully it'll be fairly obvious which is which.
The conversation had indeed been an odd one, though the violence was unexpected. Not by the observers, panicking in their impotence, but by those engaging in said conversation.
It was, Robin realised, the first time Kaguya had ever addressed him directly.
As she spoke with him mind to mind, he could see why.
It was very nearly overwhelming. Only the certain sense that, like J'onn J'onzz, she was restraining nearly all of her mighty mind to keep him safe allowed him to cope. Only the fact that the sensation was vastly different from the Doctor's intrusions, and imbued with a warmth and caring distinctly lacking from the Doctor's mental probes, kept him from running away screaming.
After the initial shock of first contact, the content of what Kaguya was conveying registered. Then, the sensations of mental linkage seemed unimportant. Then, Robin had other things to worry about.
**Little Bird, oh little one, I'm so sorry about this!** Kaguya's distress, sharp-flavoured, echoed in his mind. **I've made trouble for you with your compatriots, your friends. Please believe me, though, when I swear that my need is dire.
**Yuki is gone.** At the three, simple mental words, Robin felt his blood run cold. Summoning all his considerable discipline, he responded, his reply flying as quickly as thought.
**How? To where? By whom?** Fear, fear of the Doctor, or rather the remnants of his Organisation, coloured his thoughts with swift anxiety.
**We do not know. We cannot track her, at least not from here.**
Quick as ever on the uptake, Robin realised that Kaguya had not come in despair, but with a plan.
**From where can you track her, then? How do I help?**
**To find her, I shall need to go home, back to my Plane of existence.** In a complicated thought-burst, she forestalled his inquiry, sending him all the information he needed, and more besides.
Kaguya, as Robin had long since surmised, was not human. Rather, she was an entity, a princess if you will, from the Celestial Plane. Coming to earth 'a short while ago' - several centuries by human reckoning - she had indulged in a number of adventures, more recently including the rescue from some rather unscrupulous humans of a by-then somewhat bedraggled six-tailed fox demon - a Kitsune - who (unlike Kaguya herself) was *not* enjoying his sojourn in the Human Plane. This 'being in distress' had turned out to be the Shishou, nominally a resident of the Demon Plane. The unlikely pairing had grown into a strong friendship, the life-debt turning into a deeper, more lasting bond. The new tie was sufficiently strong, in fact, to ensure the Shishou's assistance in the care of a certain clan of humans to whom Kaguya served as protector. The Mireba clan.
Ninjas for centuries, Kaguya had deemed them strong both in the martial arts and in purity of purpose. Strong enough to act as a safeguard for her sacred robe, the Hagoromo, without which she could not return to the celestial Plane that was her home, but in physical contact with which her actions could be easily monitored (and chastised) by the less adventurous members of the clan she had left behind.
So she had transformed the fine robe of multicoloured feathers into a single hairlike strand, and had entrusted it to the family, where it had been passed down as a sacred treasure for generations. And she had protected that family, and especially the bearers of the robe, throughout that time, joined much later in her self-imposed task by the Shishou.
Then the robe had passed to Kaze.
Then Kaze had been kidnapped.
By the time Kaguya knew of this, sufficient amounts of Kaze's memory had been erased that he'd been unable - unaware of how - to use the Hagoromo to communicate with Kaguya, to summon her to his rescue.
As his mind neared it's final extinction at the hands of the Doctor, he had passed the robe onto Robin, in a display of trust and hope that Kaguya had never seen paralleled.
**He gave it to you. Even if he didn't know completely what he was doing, he wanted you to have that protection. He made you his Family.**
Staggered, Robin tried to remember such a gift. Drawing blank after blank then suddenly . . . *The hair! That time, when he first braided my hair! He used a tie, one I never found again, to fasten the plait! That was the Hagoromo!* Dimly, he could sense Kaguya's approval, and through her, oddly, the Shishou's. Pleasure at his ability to work out the 'mystery' by himself.
But sentiments that would normally have filled him with proud delight filled him with only a sense of dread. **Kaguya - the strand! I never used it to tie my hair again! The second time I braided it, I used a strip of my shirt. After that, the Doctor had it put in a high ponytail. I don't know where the Hagoromo strand is!** His panic washed over the unruffled Kaguya, who merely smiled in return.
**That, little one, is because you internalised it. You could not have done better if you'd been trained to the task of Hagoromo Bearer from birth. It is at the moment inside you, tied around your heart and threaded through your being, as safe as you can make it, just like the Mireba Clan always promised.**
**Then you will need to get it out! To return home!**
**Indeed I will,** She paused, **But it will hurt. A lot. Once again, I'm sorry, but it is bound within you, mind and body. I . . . I'll need your help to do it.**
**It's for Yuki. Anything you need. I can't lose her. Not like I lost Kaze. Anything at all that you need!**
Kaguya nodded once, gravely, and then plunged her fingers into his chest, the claw-like edges of her sharpened nails splitting easily first Kevlar, and then flesh. At the same time, her mind dove into Robin's very essence, unbinding a single strand from the weave of his mind.
With almost clinical detachment Robin noted that, as always, Kaguya was right: It hurt. A lot. Almost as badly as his torture at the hands of the Doctor, but without the sweet promise of unconscious oblivion. For this time, Robin had to stay awake, this time he had to help.
With a cry like a dying bird, Robin collapsed into the Shishou's waiting arms, every inch of him exploding in pain as the strand wound around his heart, bound through his entire self, was carefully, and agonisingly, unpicked.
That was when all hell broke loose.
Robin's 'compatriots', trapped on the outside of the barrier Kaguya had erected, watched the proceedings in horror. Desperately, Nightwing, Superboy, Wondergirl and Troia tried to pound their way through. Their brute force was no more successful than Impulse's vibrations or Empress' teleportation.
*********
With a sigh, Kaguya withdrew her fingers, bloodied, from the ragged punctures in Robin's chest. Snared around her index finger was a single fine strand, as iridescent as opal. Gently, she shook the strand, each movement spattering blood in a fine arc around her, each movement increasing the volume of the strand she held until it returned to it's full glory. Truly, it was a mantle fit for the celestial princess whose shoulders it adorned.
Behind her, the Shishou gently placed Robin on the ground, frowning at the thin trickle of blood from his mouth and nose; apparently, Kaguya had nicked a bronchus. Nothing I can't fix. A small burst of foxfire, and the healing was complete, only a messy smear of blood, and the two puncture holes in the Kevlar indicated any trauma at all, let alone the slicing dissection that had nearly shredded the boy's heart and being.
The Hagoromo's familiar weight settled around her, Kaguya turned to the now slackly unconscious Robin.
**I know, when you awaken, you will hear my words, little one. I thank you. I thank you for your care of the Hagoromo, and for your assistance in it's retrieval from your body. I return to my Plane now, as your Shishou returns to his, to continue the hunt for Yuki in our proper elements, using all the talents and devices at our disposal. When you awaken, I ask that you search on this Plane using all of your human abilities. The three of us shall not fail. Be in peace, little one, and be ready, for Yuki needs you, as do we all.**
With the grace born of a heavenly court, Kaguya, now every inch the celestial princess, nodded to the Shishou. A flick of her wrist, and the barrier was dispelled, the Titans and Young Justice falling into an ungainly heap as the resistance to their efforts suddenly vanished. A heartbeat later, Kaguya soared skywards on an errant sunbeam, becoming translucent before disappearing, while the Shishou settled for the less showy, but equally effective, method of simply winking out of existence.
Behind them, a small horde of humans and their metahuman counterparts charged towards the still figure of Robin. Needless to say, Impulse was the first to reach him.
It took him a long moment to confirm that the Boy Wonder yet lived, though much less time to assess the punctured Kevlar and bloody trickle oozing from Robin's nose and mouth. A mere instant beyond that, he'd transported his friend to the Tower sickbay, vibrated off the Kevlar armour and the green tunic beneath.
When the rest of the two teams arrived, it was this manner in which they found him. Tunic still in hand, his normally easy-going features were twisted into an expression of sickened horror.
Before anyone could even speak, Impulse had dashed across the room, barring entrance to Nightwing with a look of pure determination that seemed, to his friends, as out of place as his earlier revulsion.
"What'd you *do* to him?" He demanded, furious.
"What?" Nightwing, confused, paused. "Is he okay?"
"He's fine, just out cold. No wound, even," Superboy called from the bedside, having confirmed his diagnosis with one of the numerous diagnostic scanners the sickbay had available.
"Hey, Imp? What's up?" Startled by his uncharacteristic behaviour, Wondergirl paused behind Nightwing, still in the doorway blocked by Impulse.
"The only other time I saw marks like that it was on a friend of mine," Impulse snarled, "his mother had been beating him. Badly. Is this why Robin went missing?! You bat-people . . . doing *that* to him?!!"
Nightwing, shocked, could only stare. A moment later, when he found his voice, the deadly intensity of it frightened everyone in the room. Including himself.
"It wasn't us 'bat-people'. Robin got kidnapped. The scum who took him did . . . that. And worse."
"Worse? What could be worse?"
"Let's just say there's a reason he doesn't remember any of you." Unwilling to tell the whole story without his little brother's consent, Nightwing left it at that, standing his ground in the face of the angry and inquiring stares Young Justice levelled at him.
"Who was it? Who took Robin?" Soft, yet heard clearly by all in the room, Secret's voice cut through the tension with the sharp blade of anger.
"Too late to think of revenge, mist girl. The scumbag is already dead. Out of your reach."
"Not necessarily."
Throughout the whole exchange, Impulse's eyes never wavered from Nightwing's face. The yellow gaze examined him minutely, weighing, measuring. Nightwing met that gaze with his own. Nodding slightly, apparently satisfied with the truth in his words, Impulse turned away, moving out of Nightwing's path to allow him access to Robin's bedside.
Having confirmed for himself that his little brother was merely unconscious and otherwise uninjured, Nightwing turned to the now lividly angry Arsenal, escorting him out of the sickbay and towards the rec room before the flame-haired archer could make good on his muttered threat of roast bird on a skewer. The master shot did *not* take kindly to being punched out by a kid sidekick.
Behind him, the various members of Young Justice found chairs or walls to slump against, as they turned to watch over their currently frail-looking leader.
"Well, this sure as heck wasn't how I thought this reunion would go." Superboy voiced the consensus sentiment.
"Could be worse."
"This is Young Justice. Of course it could be worse."
Pause.
"That didn't come out quite the way I meant."
**********************
Robin awoke with a single, burning need in his head. *Get up. Get moving. Get to a computer and hack into Oracle's network. Find information. FIND YUKI!!!*
Eyes still closed, consciously forcing his breathing to mark the deep regularity of sleep, he stretched out his senses. Touch came to him first; he lay on his back, head propped on a pillow. Undressed to the waist, but nonetheless covered, presumably by a sheet, from it's smooth feel. Cool air brushing against his face.
Scent next, the sterile reek of an infirmary. But he wasn't bound, and the odour was subtly different from both the Cave and the Organisation's labs, so he was fairly unconcerned by this. Sound followed; the nearly inaudible hum of an air conditioning unit. Slight rustlings of someone - several someones - shifting in chairs. One against what had to be a wall, two over near the far side of the bed.
*Three in the room? Which ones? Let's see, I can disable - *His mental list was interrupted by the entrance of a fourth sound. This measured tread was one he knew well, his big brother, walking not with the light spring he so often bounded with, but the heavy gait of one with the world on his shoulders. *I'm sorry Nightwing. I ruined all your effort. And I'm about to make it worse.* Silently he waited, listening as the shuffling sounds stopped, then after an instant were replaced by the noises of several people getting up to leave, some more hesitantly than others.
"We'll, uh, just wait outside while you, y'know, see how he's going." Superboy's voice, the normal brash confidence seemingly sapped from it, came from Robin's left. *So, that's where the doorway is.*
"Hey Little Brother." A gentle hand traced his forehead, checking for fever, for the tightness of pain. Robin kept his breathing even.
"I just want you to know it's not your fault. Donna doesn't blame you either, and Roy'll come around. You obviously trusted that pair, whoever they were. Didn't expect them to turn around and try to gut you. Then again, if someone'd told me Batman would just give away your identity after all you've gone through to protect it, I'd have laughed in their face. See? So people can always surprise you. Like that whole 'Master' bit. Sure surprised me, Little Brother, but just at the moment your explanation can wait." He paused, and Robin's heart ached; misguided as he was as to the reasons behind the 'attack', it was obvious that Nightwing cared greatly for him, Kaguya's 'victim'.
"That said, soon as you wake up, I'm *so* gonna kick your ass for not countering that chick when she went to pull a stunt like that! And you thought riding a train blindfold was tough! You ain't seen nothing yet, kiddo!" As Nightwing turned to leave, Robin had to fight back a smile; Yep, that was his Big Brother all right! *And I wouldn't have it any other way!*
The room was empty then, for a few precious seconds as Nightwing stood outside the door, speaking to the rest of Young Justice. Robin's eyes flew open, vision seeking that which tactile sensation had already confirmed.
There, overhead, was an air conditioning vent.
Nightwing left, and the others re-entered the sick bay as quietly as possible so as not to disturb its occupant. An occupant who, it soon became readily apparent, was no longer there.
For the second time in the space of a few hours, all hell broke loose.
*****************