Title: Blue Screen Of Death
Fandom: Static Shock
Characters: Virgil/Richie
Prompt: #15 (Blue)
Word Count: 500
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I do not own Static Shock or the Justice League.
Author's Notes: m/m, drabble, Richie's POV. Following the story arc for "Unaffected" and all if its sister fics. I thought, why not, ya know. This one needs to be read in sequence after the others. Hopefully, I'll be able to wrap this up soon. A drabble created for the Lj community known as fanfic100. Unedited and unbeta'd.

Blue Screen Of Death

'The main problem with being a super-genius is that I can go faster than my computer,' Gear thought to himself as he waited for the screen to catch up. 'And it gets very frustrating. Especially when I'm trying to work. Maybe I should build a faster one.'

Resting his chin on his hand, he tilted his head to look over at BackPack. The machine was resting on a nearby workstation, it's red light blazing as it contentedly waited for whatever commands that might be given. It was the latest in technological advancements, constantly updated and perfected. However, since… he died, it had turned from his personal pet project to more of a pet than project, really.

Turning back to his computer, he realized that it was in the process of crashing.

With a disgusted sigh, Gear took off his helmet and began to rub his eyes. By the time he looked at the screen again, sans the corrective lenses of either his glasses or his modified visor, the dreaded blue screen of total meltdown glared back at him.

"So, blue screen of death," Richie muttered. "We meet again."

And suddenly, he wasn't at his desk.

He was back on that metal table, strapped down and dying. He remembered the pain, distantly. It had been a pain that was so indescribable that his brain, advanced and acute as it was, had found a way to block most of that memory. Mostly, he remembered not being afraid, at least, not being afraid of dying. He had been too focused on the pain. He'd been screaming, unable to even beg for it to end.

Richie shivered, trying to forget the moment when he died. He tried to forget the feeling of weightlessness. He tried to forget the moment the sharpness of pain faded to the brilliance of… something else.

He tried to forget… he always tried to forget, but he couldn't. That brilliant light… it had been so easy to go towards it. So tempting to reach for it.

But then, Virgil had done something… and Richie had turned away from it. He could hear Virgil's cry…

Virgil…

So he came back.

He didn't talk about it that much. About dying. About what he saw. He didn't want to, especially with Virgil. Because it terrified him.

After he came back, and after he woke up from the short coma that followed, where his brain and body fixed themselves, he had been told of what had happened. And he had easily accepted that he was the one to take the brunt of the League's decision.

No more heroics for him. No more trying to be a superhero.

No more putting himself in harms way.

He could easily accept it because it meant he wouldn't ever have to face death. He wouldn't have to be brought back.

Because if he saw his own personal blue screen of death again, he wasn't so sure he would have the strength to come back.

Not even for Virgil.