6. Chapter 6 (1/2)
soaring free
a young justice fanfiction
hi! *hides behind calculus folder* long time no see right?
in all honesty, sorry for the wait y'all. i won't bother with the empty platitudes of excuses, y'all know how school is, so just accept that this is the soonest i could possibly get a chapter out to you.
disclaimer: i don't own young justice.
in.
the fire roaring in the distance blazes black spots into damian's vision.
out.
dimly, he is aware of his uncle tim yelling at miss martian to stay put, as he and dami go to find red hood and nightwing.
in.
his
eathing slows as a deadly calm spreads throughout his body, all his energy converging onto one single purpose.
out.
find his father.
in.
robin races across the roof tops, the entirety of his being centered upon his goal. he draws ever closer to the blazing warehouse.
he refuses to allow himself you feel emotion.
out.
the
eath leaves him as he sees two still figures not fifty yards from the warehouse, one a good ten feet further than the other.
he hears tim cuss through the comms as the elder notes the stillness of the bodies.
all dami can think is,
why does the universe hate our family so much? why can't we just get a goddamn
eak?
~ooo~
tim thought his heart just stopped when he saw the building burst.
now the only thought in his mind is, not again.
tim lands perhaps less gently than he ought to beside the bodies of his older
others, biting back the need to curse like a sailor.
dick lies about ten feet closer to the building than jason. oddly, he is laying on his back, limbs and extremities stretched wide, his body slightly off bakance, suggesting he had been doing some sort of physical motion with his entire body.
jason, on the other hand, was flat on his face. one arm was crushed beneath his chest, the other laying by his side. one leg was pulled up close to his body, the other splayed out wide. a quick glance showed some road rash on the boy's forehead.
time slows as tim puts two and two together...
...
running.
they must have been running. they must have known about the bomb.
...
he steps back and notes their path. he watches the spacing of the footsteps, noting the direction of the trunks of their bodies by the slight angles of their steps.
he paces forward, moving beyond the bodies, about thirty feet away from the building.
...
here.
dick stopped here to look, before running harder.
...
tim retracts his steps, stopping five feet from dick. he raises an eye
ow and considers everything he know about jason and dick's relationship.
...
dick knew that, while they may be able to beat the flames, they wouldn't be able to be the concussive force of the bomb.
in a singular motion, he planted his forward foot, grabbed his little
other (ignoring his outcry) and allowed their bodies' momentum to propel hood forward, dick's body twisting in response to the movement.
he needed to give his
other every foot he could. in a blast of this size, even inches could help.
not a second later, the bomb went off.
...
tim scowls, his deductions having taken no more than 10 or 20 seconds. curse dick's self-sacrificing nature!
he falls to his knees beside dick, noting with relief the faint groaning now coming from red hood.
he feels a faint heartbeat but the man remains unconscious. suspecting internal injury from the force of the bomb (a moderate concussion, at the least) and noting the blood leaking out of various shrapnel wounds in his
other's sode, tim puts a finger to his ear and calls the alien. "m'gann! get the bioship down here immediately! wing and hood in need of immediate medical care. i repeat, bats are in need of medical care!"
wrapping an ace bandage around the hero to staunch the bleeding, he moves to the other man, causing himself for forgetting to refill his suits medical supplies after the last mission gone wrong (or, really, the last mission, in general).
jason got off easier than his
other; though no doubt still running the risk of internal injury, the very fact that the man was lying on his stomach rather than his stomach meant that less skim had been exposed to the shrapnel, and all the batboys had a whole heckuva lot of protective gear on their backs due to the overall cowardly attitude held by many gotham villains, pickpockets, and muggers.
tim is vaguely aware that his nephew has fallen by dick's side. he hopes to god that dami doesn't blame himself for this as he did when dick got de-aged. heaven knows that everyone in the family suffers enough emotionally without adding in even more familial guilt.
time flashes past as the bioship lands and the eldest batboys are loaded in. red robin begins to board himself before he notices damian standing stock still, his
ows furrowed in concentration.
frowning, tim makes his way to the boys side and places a hand on his shoulder. "come on, robin, we have to-" tim freezes as he too notices what the boy is staring at.
there, held to a telephone pole with an unmistakable electrically-charged bola, was slade wilson's signature mask.