*coughs nervously*
So . . . those "regular updates" I was talking about . . . . yeah . . . . those never happened.
I'm sorry guys, I can give you a million excuses about how December was a busy month, and how I've since started college and literally had no leisurely writing time, but for now, I suppose it is better to get to the story.
.
Guest reviews.
Guest: hahahahaha . . . . . . . . I'm afraid that I did end there.
.
No: I'm so sorry . . . here's that more you asked for.
.
Guest: I mean . . . I suppose alright is a relative term, but I did promise not to KILL anyone, so that at least is definite. Maybe.
.
I'm not even sure I responded to all of the reviewers with accounts . . . If I didn't, I really am sorry. I am a horrible person. I haven't even been reading fanfiction. My inbox is ridiculously full with story updates and private messages that I have not answered.
With very little further ado, the story.
.
.
Disclaimer: No human being as despicable as me could possibly own Young Justice, clearly.
.
.
.
.
Chapter 24
.
.
.
Mount Justice
May 26, 10:01 EDT
.
Tim had known from the moment that Jason rushed into the manor looking for him that something was happening. Clearly it wasn't exactly what he wanted to happen, since Jason still looked worried, but it couldn't be the opposite either, otherwise Bruce would have been there too. Jason made Tim put on a mask before they left the manor, and promised Alfred that he would call as soon as there was news, then the two boys Zeta'd to the mountain. Tim still wasn't sure what was going on, but he allowed his brother the silence that he clearly wanted, and decided that someone must have staged a rescue mission. One that was still in progress. One that maybe wasn't going as planned.
It wasn't Bruce. He'd made it clear that he couldn't try and free Dick without consequences that none of them wanted. Besides, he'd been busy with some League business, and hadn't planned to come out of his office at all that day (although Tim was pretty sure he'd left about fifteen to twenty minutes before, and just assumed that the 'business' had turned into a 'mission'). It wasn't Jason either, because he knew that Dick would have been furious if he stepped foot in Bludhaven, when Deathstroke clearly didn't mind killing the other sidekicks. That left the Team, or more specifically, Wally. The speedster had been out of it the past few times Tim had seen him, and he didn't always think things through. So, Tim concluded, Wally must have tried to save Dick. And it must have been at least partially successful, or else Jason wouldn't look so conflicted, torn between hope and terror.
The rest of the Team seemed impatient. Artemis had disappeared several minutes ago into a nearby training room, and every few seconds, Tim would hear a faint explosion as one of her arrows detonated. Ms. Martian was burning batch after batch of cookies, while Superboy watched her, a worse glare than usual on his face. Barbara was having an intense staring contest with Troia, who looked angry as all get out. Freddie and Mary, who looked distinctly uncomfortable (and confused), were sitting together and whispering. They seemed to be trying to make up their minds about something. Tim wouldn't be surprised if they were reconsidering the whole Team thing. They hadn't exactly joined at the best time.
Gar was quiet, and Tim suspected that he was thinking about his mom. Whenever he was worried about Bruce, or Jason, or Dick, Tim thought about his parents. It was never good thoughts either, mostly bad memories, or, if he was sleeping, nightmares. He could only guess that Gar was having similar thoughts.
Garth, Tula, and Kaldur, were standing in the corner, having a serious conversation. None of them looked happy, and Tim suspected that they were feeling just as concerned as he felt. It had been almost an hour since Jason came to get him, and they'd heard nothing from Batman, or Flash, or Superman, who were all out there. Tim hadn't really had the situation explained to him, but that was OK. He was fairly sure he'd been able to piece it together from what he did know, and all he really wanted was for Bruce to come back with Dick in tow. Of course, once they did come back, he had to be careful and refer to them as Batman and Robin. Or dad, for Bruce. That was good too, since everyone knew that he, Jason, and Dick were Batman's children. Although, most of them probably thought they were actually blood related, since they all at least looked like they had his dark hair, and similar skin colors. The members of the Team who were aware of their identities knew it wasn't true, but to anyone else who'd seen the four of them together, they looked like they could plausibly be related.
Tim sighed, and curled closer to Jason, who didn't protest for once. They needed each other right now, and for a minute, Tim could pretend that it was like a normal patrol. Bruce and Dick were just a little late coming home, and he and Jason were curled up on the couch, waiting for them to call, or come in. Tim couldn't quite convince himself, though, so he gave up on that thought, closed his eyes tightly, and prayed fervently that today he would get his big brother back. And although he knew that it was asking a lot, he fervently hoped that Dick would be in one piece.
.
.
In Transit
May 26, 10:08 EDT
.
Bruce could barely breathe. He'd arrived in the clearing just in time to watch as Deathstroke drove the wicked looking dagger into his son's side. He may have been moving, still desperate to get to Dick's side, but he could feel his heart shutter closed, he could feel the overwhelming wave of grief and pain threatening to crash over him. He'd told himself that his son may not be dead, that he had survived much worse, but it didn't work any better than it had the other times he'd tried to convince himself with that argument. He was sure that any parent who watched their child in pain wouldn't have been able to effectively use that argument.
Everything after that had been a blur; he'd stayed in front of Wally and Dick, protecting them whenever Deathstroke got too close, but mainly leaving the fight to the Flash, and Superman. It had been over in a matter of minutes, Deathstroke taking off as soon as he saw a good opening. He clearly realized that he had no chance against three members of the Justice League. Catwoman had also disappeared, but Bruce knew he would hear from her soon. She'd want to know whether or not Richard was OK.
Flash had cast a worried look at Dick as Bruce carefully picked him up. Normally Bruce wouldn't want to move anyone who was injured this badly, but in this case, he wanted to get his son to medical attention as quickly as possible. Superman was already flying towards where Batman had parked, probably to prep the med station. Flash scooped Wally into his arms, ignoring his nephews protests, and zooming off. Bruce followed more slowly, carrying his son as gently as possible. He hated it when Dick was this still and pale. All of the life seemed to have literally been drained out of him, and the blood that was spreading over his side did nothing to quell that notion. Bruce didn't allow himself to check if his son was still breathing, or to imagine that he did or didn't feel a heartbeat. He wouldn't be able to bear it if Richard was gone.
Now, as he sat next Dick's still form, which was laid out on the medical table, Bruce couldn't help but tell himself not to hope. Yes, Dick was breathing, yes, his heart was beating, even if it was only faintly, but his injuries were incredibly severe, and there was just a slim chance that he would survive. It wouldn't have been quite so bad if his earlier injuries had been allowed to heal, but the build up of hurt on hurt, over the course of weeks, even months, had taken it's toll, and his body was severely weakened. Dick would have been in bad enough shape with his original injuries, without the addition of his recent beating from Deathstroke, and the horrible stab wound in his side. As it was, it was almost definite that there was internal bleeding, and not just from the knife. Some it may have been from earlier wounds, earlier fights.
At least he was alive.
For now.
Wally was sleeping, after having been given some protein bars. Flash had given him a knockout serum when he started to have a panic attack once he had enough energy to realize exactly how bad the state of his best friend was. It was probably just as well, because Bruce had only just done a full scan of Richard's injuries, and the knowledge of exactly how severe they were probably wouldn't have comforted Kid Flash in the slightest.
They were almost to the Mountain, and Bruce found that he had yet to put his cowl back on. He'd taken it off as soon as he was back on the ship, and had stayed Bruce for the entire hazy trip. He knew he needed to re-acclimate himself to his superhero identity, but he didn't feel like Batman. He felt like a worried father, who only wanted his son to live. He didn't think he could deal with the Team, or Jason, or Tim, or even Alfred. He didn't even honestly want to deal with Barry and Clark, even though they had avoided him as much as possible, knowing he needed space. Clark was listening to him, he was sure, just to make sure that he and Richard were both alright, and Barry was nervously vibrating next to his nephew, but they hadn't bothered him. They knew how bad it was. They'd been on enough missions that didn't end well to be able to tell when chances for survival were slim.
"Superman to the Team. We've retrieved Robin and Kid Flash. Please prepare the Medical Bay, and contact Leslie Thompkins. Her number is third on the medical personnel list just inside the door. ETA four minutes."
Bruce ignored the crackle of his communicator, but pulled his cowl over his head, once again masking his identity, although there were few members of the Team who were unaware of who he was. He still needed to keep his identity safe, and he would be able to act stronger as Batman. He would be able to face them as Batman. Bruce was shell-shocked, a worried father who could only stare at his son, and wonder if he should already start grieving. Batman was a hero, one who had faced too much loss for this to truly shake him. He wouldn't be surprised if the Team went back to calling him heartless after this, like they had more than once before. But it couldn't be helped; Richard- no, Robin -needed him to be strong right now.
Batman prepared himself for the landing, re-positioning Robin's mask so that it covered his eyes completely, and ruffling his partner's hair. They'd faced too much together for it to end now. Besides, he'd promised Dick they'd have a family dinner the night of that fateful mission, the day his life had gone wrong. If they hadn't fought afterwards, if Batman hadn't been so furious with Robin . . . if he'd just been more understanding, more open to the fact that they were saving lives, and sometimes that brought them in the way of harm, then maybe none of this would have happened.
Thoughts of what might have been were useless now, and as the ship went in for the landing, Batman scooped Robin up in his arms, and prepared himself to take his ward, his son, to safety. Because that was what was important. They were together now, and he could help Robin get better. He could keep him safe, watch him, be his father again. After this, it would be months before he could patrol again. Maybe it was even time to do that change they'd mentioned a couple of times. Batman knew that Alfred had a few new costume ideas hidden away; he knew that Jason probably wouldn't want to stop being Robin, but that Dick would need a change. He was becoming more independent, and he needed an identity that represented that.
But for now, Batman thought, as the hold doors opened, Robin, Richard, just needed to live.
.
.
.
.
.
.
I make no promises on updates, but it's Spring Break right now (legitimately the reason you are receiving this blessed update), so you may get another chapter this week.
Please REVIEW and tell me how despicable I am.