He hurts. He… he can't remember why. His whole body just ached and he was fading in and out of consciousness and, and…

He thinks he hears a voice. It sounded familiar.

Was it calling out to him?

With all of his drained strength, he pulled himself up. From rubble?

Stones of various sizes were all around him. Underneath him. On top of him. Metal was sticking out of some parts of it, so perhaps it used to be from a building.

Was he inside a collapsing building? Was he outside of it?

Does it matter now that he's underneath it all?

Nothing but darkness and flickering lights were around him and the rubble.

The familiar voice was louder.

He needed to get out of the rubble.

Wriggling around made his heart pump. It made any dull pain turn sharp. He can take it. He thinks he went through worse. No, he knows he went through worse.

So softly the voice returned, the loudest he ever heard it. At first he didn't register what was said. Not until it was repeated.

"Terry!" Her voice called out.

Terry. Him. That's his name. Her voice reminded him of his name. He knows this voice. He remembers this voice.

Opening his mouth to speak, a cough recked through his lungs outwards to the world around him.

He hurts so much.

"Mm…mmm…mo…mommm…" ever so slow he tried to say around his coughs, his inhales of dust and-

"Terry?"

Looking up, a light shined into his eyes.

He hissed, pulling himself back. That was a bad move, however, since a large slab of concrete dug itself into his leg.

Crying out, he clawed at metal, tearing at it with his claws. He… he can't remember if he had claws before. He doesn't think he should have claws.

But the pain was immense and he thinks the dark black cloth wrapping around his body is natural. He's been like this, because he-

A hand gently touched his face.

Forcing his eyes open, for they were being squeezed shut from the pain, he looked at her.

Her short red hair was a mess. Her brown eyes red with tears. Dirt and soot covered her face and clothes.

He smiled. She was okay. Why wouldn't she be okay?

"Mom." He finally managed to get out. He sighed as he leaned into her hand.

He'll be better now. Now that his mom was there. Terry was going to get better.

But she froze and he whined.

"Mom?"

Something was wrong.

As the pain slowly dulls he thinks that something was very wrong.

But she went to help him get away from the large slab and he realized that something was very wrong.

Yes, he was covered with the dark black cloth from head to toe, but there was a large gash in his calf. Red blood and red circuitry were exposed, showing that he was damaged.

He finally saw the slash across his red bat on his chest.

Black and red, red and black. Dark, dark, dark…

"Mom?" He called again, weakly.

"I'm…" her voice sounds choked. "I'm here."

He thinks that his name is Terry, but he shouldn't be called that right then. With dark black and bright red wrapping itself all around him, trying to make him one with the night.

He has a belt, he suddenly remembers as his mom strokes his face.

A belt that can call in a flying machine.

But he was so tired. And his mom was so comforting.

"… Terry?" Her voice wobbled.

"Hm…?" He couldn't remember his other name, but she called out to the one she gave him and he couldn't help but try to answer. "…yeah?"

She became tense.

"Terry?" She breathed, saying his name again. It was like it was the only thing she could say.

"Mom," he said back, trying to get closer to her.

It was rather unfortunate that doing so made the pain come back at full force.

Crying out in anguish, a voice in his head pleaded with him to call in the flying machine. It would be able to get him to safety.

But he was safe in his mother's arms.

Then a voice that sounded like it was coming from his ear spoke. "I have the batmobile locked to your position. It's on its way to get you."

It was gruff. It was ruff. It was familiar like his mom's voice.

It was someone he cared about.

He whined again, however, because that meant he was going to leave her. He didn't want to. She was warm and-

"It's going to be okay." His mom whispered. "You're going to be okay."

"Okay." He rasped back. "I love you mom."

"I-" she sounded like she was going to cry. "I love you too, sweetheart."

Cracking open an eye, for he didn't remember when they closed, he saw the tears gathering. She shouldn't cry. Why was she crying?

Trembling, he raised his hand to her face. Gently, it landed on her cheek as a tear fell. He wiped it away, smearing dust across with it, turning it into a weird mud.

He frowned at this.

"Don't cry," he said, trying to wipe the weird mud away, only making it worse.

She opened her mouth. Whether or not it was to say something or do something else, he doesn't know. A humming broke their attention.

It was the flying machine. The batmobile.

She held onto him tighter. She didn't want to let him go. He didn't want her to let him go either.

But watching the smooth darkness fly in, he remembered that it was okay. It would help him in a way his mom couldn't.

Reluctantly, he took his hand away from her face, careful of his claws. He then reached upwards to the machine as it lowered itself to them.

She just held on even tighter.

"It's alright." He said, voice hoarse. "I'm just…"

He couldn't remember what type of help it was going to give him. "It's going to help me." Was all he could say in the end.

Once the vehicle was down to their level, it opened. Red lines pulsated to the beat of his heart.

He needed to get in.

It pained him to leave his mother's grasp, but it was necessary. Yet he wasn't strong enough. His body was too heavy and all of his strength had left him. He needed help to get in.

"Mom." His throat itched for water. "Help me in."

He felt her jerk. "What?" She asked.

"I can't get in." He looked at her. She looked… scared. "Mom. Please."

A moment passed.

Ever so slowly did she nodded. "Okay." Her voice cracked.

When she moved him, he bit back a groan. The pain was dull, but it began to throb in time with his heart beat. With the pulsing red circuitry of the batmobile.

It was slow going as she didn't want to hurt him. He knew that she would never want to hurt him. It didn't help that he was basically dead weight, but eventually she got him in.

Suddenly, as he was settling into the chair, he felt small. Young. Like a child.

His mom was still holding his hand and he felt like he was going on the bus for the first day of school. In his memory he took his hand away from hers, and waved saying, "bye bye. I love you." She was crying then. But it was a happy cry. Not like now.

Automatically, he felt his body do the same thing as he did years ago.

He took his hand away.

She cried out, quickly holding both hands to her mouth to keep herself silent.

He waved.

She shook.

"Bye bye. I love you."

The batmobile shut itself as she fell.

Darkness fell upon him as the vehicle flew away from his mother's sobbing form.

Idk I just wanted some hurt Terry with his mom, what can I say? Tbh I wanted this to be like a reveal for Mary about her son being Batman, but after I wrote it I'm like… "this could totally be like a sequel to Shadows of the night." Now here we are! Whether this is a sequel or a standalone story that's up to you.