Chapter Text
In the end, the team’s plan works out―the Justice League has been cured of Vandal’s Starro Tech, the Watchtower is back under their control, and League Zeta-Tubes are once again secure. It’s a good excuse to celebrate, Robin thinks, but there’s still some loose ends to tie up.
Namely, those missing sixteen hours.
Robin excuses himself from the the team’s victory party-slash-New Year’s celebration a little after three in the morning, entering the Watchtower’s meeting room. He takes a seat at the table and starts pulling up monitors, determined to see if he missed something. He skims through Watchtower security footage until the point where Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Hawkwoman, Martian Manhunter, and Green Lantern John Stewart go through a portal. He puts the point where the portal appears to the point where it disappears on loop, listening for Klarion’s incantation… except there is no incantation.
Robin plays the video again, keeping his eyes on Klarion. The Witch Boy’s mouth never moves―in fact, he’s preoccupied with the monitors controlling the League. That rules out magic.
“Something troubles you, my friend?”
“Honestly, Kaldur,” Robin says, not looking away from the monitor, “a lot about today was pretty troubling.”
“Indeed,” Kaldur says. He approaches Robin, sitting down in the seat beside him. “And would I be correct in assuming that you have come here in an attempt to piece together the missing sixteen hours?”
“Uh-huh.” Rewind, playback at half the speed.
“Though I agree the possibility of the two of us overlooking something is there, I believe searching for such answers can wait.” Robin feels Kaldur’s hand rest on his shoulder. “There will be time tomorrow to comb through security footage. For now, you should rest.”
“This is too important to put off, Kaldur,” Robin says. “If magic isn’t what opened the portal, then there has to be something we’re missing. There has to be…”
His voice trails off when he turns his attention to Vandal. Just before the portal opens, Vandal raises his hand, which appears to be holding something. Robin zooms in on him, enhancing the image until he finds what he’s looking for―a little black and red box.
“I think that might be it,” Robin says. He isn’t able to get a very good shot, but he takes what he can get and runs it through both the Justice League and the Batcave’s databases. “I don’t think that tech is from Earth. It’s gonna take a while to comb through the data we have on every alien species the League has ever encountered, but it’s a start.”
“How long, Robin?”
“Dunno. Could take an hour, could take an entire day.” Robin types out the timestamps of the video before dismissing his case notes. “While that’s running, I’ll talk to the six Leaguers of interest and―”
“I do not believe that would be wise,” Kaldur says.
“You don’t think it’d be wise? What kind of leader are you?” Robin questions, narrowing his eyes at the Atlantean. “Who knows what Vandal could’ve had them do?”
“I am a leader who knows the limits of my teammates,” Kaldur says, his tone calm. “If you believe this is not the best course of action, then I would like to remind you that I am willing to step down at any time.”
Conner’s thoughts stop suddenly. He feels Wally’s utter sense of betrayal through the mind link when he realizes Dick knew all along that they weren’t on a rescue mission. He feels M’gann’s horror when she realizes that he and Wally aren’t going to make it out, then nothing at all.
“No,” Robin says, a bit too quickly for his liking. “I mean…”
Kaldur’s expression softens. “I believe there is something more troubling you than just the missing sixteen hours.”
Robin’s gaze shifts downwards, settling on the polished surface of the table. This isn’t like Canary’s counseling session―the room is unsecured, meaning anybody could walk in at any moment. With his luck, that person could be Batman, and if that does happen, then that hard conversation he’s bound to have with his mentor later tonight could become even more difficult.
(He’s so tired of dealing with these thoughts on his own.)
“The simulation,” Robin says. “After you died, I took leadership because I felt the team needed direction. The entire time, I thought of what Batman would do. I stepped into Batman’s shoes, did everything he would’ve done, and I wound up killing the friends I had left. And I hate that I did it, hate that I was capable of just letting the people I care about die again―”
The words catch in his throat. He lets out a shaky breath, pulling his knees up to his chest. “If it had been me in charge tonight, do you think the outcome would be different? Would we be mourning instead of celebrating?”
Kaldur doesn’t say anything for several long minutes. The silence grows increasingly more unbearable, but Robin’s mouth refuses to move. He toys with the idea of leaving the room and finding his mentor, prepared to tell him that maybe he’s not meant to be on a team.
“I believe it would be foolish to speak of what ifs,” Kaldur finally says. “Dwelling on such scenarios is a waste of time. What you should be focusing on is who you are as a leader.”
Robin looks up to Kaldur, raising an eyebrow.
“Though you do not wish to be Batman, you still choose to make the decisions he would make,” Kaldur elaborates. “Rather than using the tools he has given you in your own way, you are trying to imitate. Focus less on what kind of leader Batman is and spend more time figuring out what kind of leader Robin is meant to be.”
“I don’t know where to start,” Robin says softly.
“I am willing to help you find your way,” Kaldur says, extending a hand towards Robin, “if you are willing to let me.”
Robin smiles, taking Kaldur’s hand. “I’d like that.”