Alright! New chapter, coming up! I still don't own Young Justice, but I'm working on that.
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There was no way around it.
They were going to crash.
Kaldur had always prided himself on his level-headed nature and calm demeanor, but when the Batwing narrowly avoided yet another tree, he had no choice but to panic. The Atlantean's arms trembled as he stabilized himself inside the cockpit, and his fingers convulsively gripped whatever they could.
There was a part of him that wondered how Batman, between concern for his partner and the extreme speeds he was piloting his aircraft at, could possibly be as calm as he seemed. There was nothing in his posture that belied any stress he felt, but a tic had begun jumping on the right side of his jaw where his teeth were undoubtedly clenched. Still waters, as any ocean-dweller would know, run deep; but to see the phrase personified in the older hero was a novel experience.
Aqualad could only wonder what his teammate was experiencing behind him. With only one extra seat in the Batwing, usually reserved for Robin, Miss Martian had opted to fly with Superman. Being used to the sensation of self-generated flight, the young Martian had been sure that she would be fine.
Aqualad was fairly certain that she had never flown quite this quickly before. On that note, he wasn't even sure if she and Superman were even still behind the plane.
He wasn't feeling brave enough to turn in his seat and check.
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Mouth pressed into a grim line, Batman maneuvered his plane through a dense copse of trees, nearly giving Aqualad a heart attack.
They were so close.
Seeing the waterfall entrance to the Batcave just ahead, the Caped Crusader quickly slammed his hand onto the button that would part the boulders just behind the downpour. Beside him Aqualad had spotted the water, as well as the rock behind it.
"... Batman?"
The rocks weren't opening up fast enough for his liking.
"Batman?!"
Eyes narrowing, Batman threw the plane into a spin as it hurtled into the darkness.
"Batman!"
Entirely vertical, the Batwing barely scraped its way into the cave. As it was, Batman would have to do some minor repair work on the belly and the top of the plane, where the rock had torn into its protective outer layer. As the plane began its short descent into the cave's hangar, the Dark Knight hazarded a glance at his protégé's teammate. The Atlantean's eyes were squeezed firmly shut, and he had curled himself into as small a ball as his environment allowed. He didn't dare move until the plane had landed and was powering down.
Waiting for them when they exited the plane were Clark and Miss Martian; the former looking concerned, and the latter looking frazzled and disheveled. He brushed past them both and entered the cave proper.
Astonished gasps ghosted over his ears as his ward's friends caught sight of the cavernous room and all of its splendors, but he paid no attention. His only thought was of Robin. As silent as the shadows he frequented, Batman slipped into the infirmary and stopped cold.
Laying on the examination table was his tiny, dark-haired ward, an oxygen mask pressed into his pale face and an IV drip in his right arm. Standing over his prone body were the forms of Alfred and Leslie, each trying their hardest to keep the little acrobat alive. Standing at the monitors was Superboy, looking for all the world like he had done this a thousand times, and zipping around and occasionally out of the room was Kid Flash, fetching things for the good doctor as she asked.
The first to notice his presence was, unsurprisingly, Alfred.
Without glancing up, the wizened old butler addressed his charge with a murmured, "Master Batman. We could use your help. Is Master Superman here as well?"
At the Batman's growl in the affirmative, Alfred continued in that same stoic tone, "Good. We need to check for any internal bleeding. His powers will be of great help."
Batman hesitated, unsettled by the idea of leaving his son now that he was there, but without prompting, Alfred solved that problem as well. Without raising his voice out of that calm cadence, he called out to Kid Flash, asking that the young speedster fetch Bruce's Kryptonian friend.
A bodiless "Sure thing!" echoed around the whitewashed room and the Flash's nephew was gone.
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Every quick step the speedster made echoed through the cave in an exaggeratedly long cacophony of noise, and Wally couldn't help but draw the parallels between the noise and his current situation. Ever since Superboy had gingerly placed Robin on the examination table, every moment that Wally experienced felt stretched to an eternity. Every second felt like ages with the pain in Wally's heart prolonging his attachment to the speed force.
There had even been a few times when he'd had to ask people to repeat themselves; listening in extreme slow motion was hard.
Red boots skidded to a stop in front of the huge screens that loomed in the heart of the cave. Standing before him were two of his teammates and Superman, their eyes intent on the screen before them.
A young reporter stood at the smoking rubble of the bombed hospital, a parade of evacuees filing out of the doors behind her. Wally sent the Man of Steel into the infirmary, then forced his brain to calm and slow just in time to hear the tail end of her report.
"-are still looking for the culprit of this terrible crime, and members of the Justice League are reported to have been at each bomb site. So far there have been a surprisingly low number of reported injuries caused by the bombs at the mall and the garage, but the number of people who were killed or hurt by the bomb at the hospital just keeps rising. Police are hopeful that information regarding the culprit will recovered soon. Back to you, Judy."
The scene cut to a middle aged woman in a suit, sitting behind a desk at a studio, and Wally turned on his heel and took off, anxious to be near his best friend once more.
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The first thing Clark noticed when he entered the medical bay was the clone. There was no way that he had missed his genetic donor's entrance, but he stayed facing the opposite direction.
The second thing he noticed was the frightening pallor of Robin's face beneath the oxygen mask. The thirteen year old's stomach was packed with clean gauze to staunch the flow of blood from around the metal protruding from his stomach, and his mentor was the one applying pressure. Batman looked absolutely haggard, and Clark knew that the only way to lift the haunted look from his friend's face was the complete recovery of his son.
Silently, he prayed.
As he was prompted to check for any other injuries, he prayed.
He begged for the life of his pseudo-nephew even as he stood ready to help Alfred and Dr. Tompkins remove the offending piece of blood-covered metal from the tiny body before them.
When Dick began to code as his stomach was being stitched, even as Superman held his best friend back and listened frantically for a heartbeat...
Even when that heartbeat finally met his ears and Bruce nearly collapsed in his arms with relief, Clark never stopped praying.
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I decided to stop here for one reason; the word count for the words that actually make up the story is 1234. That was too good to pass up. So here it is. Enjoy. Review, and all that.
-Magic.