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Kon hates this shit, truly.
It feels like every other week they wind up fighting some evil alternate universe version of themselves, or the Justice League, or their darkest-timeline future adult selves. It's starting to get pretty old, honestly.
Of course, you would also think that doing it so often would mean it should be a piece of cake, but it never seems to work out that way. They've got Tim on their side, which is great, but they're always up against either evil Batman or evil grown-up Tim, both of which are way more trouble than their nice, play-by-the-rules counterparts. The rest of them are easier to predict—even an evil Superman only has so much firepower, but the shit that Batman, or, worse, Tim, might have had time to think up in a dark and gritty future scenario can be downright scary. It's even more of a problem right now because Bart, usually one of their better countermeasures to a Bat, is already busy trying to keep a particularly disgruntled version of his grandpa distracted.
Kon is actually lucky that it's Evil Tim this time; he's replaced Batman in the Justice League, which is a capital-b Bad sign for his mental health, but he's still hesitating when it comes to Kon, not whipping out the kryptonite that Kon knows he must have tucked away in one of his freaky little pouches. Unfortunately for him, Kon isn't above taking advantage of that, and he lunges past his Tim's shoulder, fist cocked to put Evil Tim out of the fight for good.
He almost makes it, too, except that something catches at his throat and holds, breaking his momentum and yanking him back.
"Fuck," his Tim says, and Kon very much agrees, except he can't really vocalize it, because whatever had caught him at the neck hasn't let go—it's a full loop of what feels like rope, and it's gone tight enough around his throat that he can't make a sound. He can feel the knot in it pressing against the back of his neck, and the heeled boot in the small of his back, forcing him to arch his spine as the lasso drags incrementally tighter and cuts off his strained gasps for air completely, confirms that this is Wonder Woman, hell-bent on strangling him.
"Conner!" That's Cassie, and he can turn his head enough to see that Superman has her by the arms; she's thrashing wildly in his grasp, teeth bared furiously as Kon falls to his knees, but he's twisted her arms behind her at an angle where she can't get enough leverage to throw him off. Even when she gets that deadly focus in her eyes and starts using the tricks Tim has shown her over the years to escape a captor's grasp, this version of Clark is wily enough to stay one step ahead of her, and he's shoving her to the ground, trying to force her down so that he can pin her completely. This is probably going to be bad, Kon thinks as his head begins to swim.
In most cases, the lack of oxygen wouldn't be a problem for Kon—he can survive in space without any special gear, so a regular lasso around the neck, even in the hands of someone strong enough to choke him, would be uncomfortable, but not any special cause for concern. This, on the other hand, is Wonder Woman's magic Lasso of Truth, which means he's currently scrabbling at his neck, panic bubbling up along with the black spots blooming in his vision.
"This is gonna feel so wrong," he hears Tim mutter, and then Kon is hit with a sudden, painful wave of nausea. He feels a little bit like he's on fire, he thinks, but from the inside out—his lungs are burning and his head is pounding as he fights not to black out, tries desperately and fails to dig his fingers under the lasso as Wonder Woman somehow pulls it tighter. His entire body seems to be rebelling against the mistreatment, and the lightning bolts of pain shooting through his chest and radiating down his arms are almost enough to distract him from the way every fiber of his being is aching dangerously.
He just barely catches the glow of green from the corner of his eye, and he understands what's happening as Tim's dark shape hurls itself towards Superman, why Tim had sounded so upset. Even as Cassie rips one arm free of Superman's grasp, though, he isn't sure that it will be enough to get him out of this. There's a hazy feeling growing in his head, and the pain of the lasso and the kryptonite are drifting further away. He can't tell if his fingers are actually moving anymore as the black spots floating before his eyes grow to meet the darkening edges of his vision, and little by little, the battlefield around him disappears. The last thing he hears is Tim shouting his name.
*
"I'm okay, I'm okay," Kon hears Tim saying—he's not sure where he is or why, but he would recognize that voice anywhere. "It's a sprain, Dick, it's fine."
"You say that about everything," someone—Dick, probably—points out, and there's quiet for a beat before he sighs. "Yeah, alright, point taken. I'm sorry we couldn't get there sooner, Tim."
"It's fine," Tim repeats, and he sounds quiet and worried. "Everyone came out of it. Raven said he—it probably wouldn't be enough to do any permanent damage, especially given his physiology. If she thought he was in danger, we would still be in the medbay. Now that he's away from the kryptonite, his healing factor should take effect again within a few hours."
Kon hates when Tim talks that way. Careful and detached, like he can't feel any of the words he's saying, like he's barely there at all. Although currently, Kon can admit that there's maybe such a thing as a little healthy distance—he feels like he's too much here. His body hurts all over, between the familiar ache of kryptonite exposure and the less-familiar intense throbbing of everything in and around his neck, from his chest to the top of his head. He kind of feels like he got hit by a bus, isn't a hundred percent sure that all of his body parts are still attached, but he can move himself with his TTK and picks his hand up just enough to get someone's attention.
"Tim," Dick says, urgent, and Kon hears Tim's sharp intake of breath crystal clear, knows the rough fingers that catch his by heart.
"Kon?" Tim asks, low and urgent, and Kon takes a painful breath, cracks one eye open.
"Hey, babe," he manages, mostly—he cuts himself off with a cough, which feels like someone is dragging shark skin the wrong way across the inside of his throat. The pain blurs his vision a little, but he can still see the worried crease between Tim's eyebrows as he shushes Kon.
"Just—just shut up for once, okay?" Tim says, and he sounds on the verge of tears as he leans forward over the edge of the bed to kiss Kon's forehead.
"Sorry," Kon whispers, and Tim shakes his head, sets his jaw in the stubborn way that Kon loves and hates in equal measure.
"It wasn't your fault. And seriously, stop talking. It hurts to listen to you."
Kon lets out a soft huff, the closest he dares to get to a laugh, and uses his TTK to lift his arm again, offering the space beside him to Tim. Tim hesitates for a moment, but they're in Tim's room anyway, and when Kon looks around he realizes that Dick must have slipped out while they were occupied. It doesn't take long for Tim to cave, and he crawls up beside Kon, curling up carefully under his arm. It hurts a little to be touched, but it's more than worth it for the way Tim starts to relax, the rigid tension draining out of his muscles as he rests his head delicately on Kon's shoulder.
They only have a few minutes of quiet before there's a knock on the door—it's the knock that the four of them had set up shortly after moving from Mount Justice into the tower, and when Tim calls out an affirmative, Cassie pokes her head in. She's got a split lip and some nasty bruises spreading across her jaw, but she manages a smile as she looks in on them.
"Hey, uh, just checking in. Glad you're...." She trails off, blinks rapidly for a moment and takes a deep breath. "Actually, um. Room for one more?"
"Make it two?" Bart adds, poking his head up over Cassie's shoulder and wrapping his arms around her waist, and Tim and Kon exchange a glance. Any movement hurts, but Kon gives a tiny nod, and Tim reaches back to pat the bed.
"Gently," he warns, and they both walk calmly across the room, which makes Kon want to laugh again—normally they would dive at him, but instead they climb gingerly onto the bed, Bart tucking himself against Kon's other side and Cassie curling up to spoon Tim, reaching down to find Kon's hand and tangle their fingers together. Once they've all settled, Kon gives all of them a gentle squeeze and closes his eyes again. He knows they just need to see that he's okay, and with them around him, it's easy to drift back off to sleep.