Work Text:
One morning, this sadness will fossilize
"We can take Superman and Batman, can't we, Superboy?"
The sarcastic tone that came with the playback of his words made him grimace. The dark knight wouldn't falter, as was clear by his nonstop flurry of attacks, all while the ground above him rumbled dangerously, and he could hear his teammates grunts while he fought against arguably the strongest hero on this stupid planet. He hoped he was doing well, but he had to focus on his own battle. The masked hero countered each perfectly, ducking and sliding away when needed, the reverse-engineered chip pricking at the palm of his hand, painfully reminding him of the task at hand. The time needed for the power of the chip to come into effect was much less than a 16th of a nanosecond, as Red Tornado had informed them, yet the gap to actually slap it on the back of Batman's head was almost impossible with the way he was delivering these attacks. He pulled a couple more batarangs from his belt, narrowly grazing the kids cheek, going for another tackle while Robin was vulnerable.
And I will forget how to cry
The heartbeat taken for Robin to take out another smokebomb allowed his enemy to deliver a punch so powerful he was thrown and tossed around the Watchtower like a balloon on a windy day. The force of him hitting the concrete sent a shudder through his spine that left him numb and paralysed, the 3-pointed Starotech chip thrown from his hand as he hit the ground, a broken, shrill cry escaping his throat when the pain in his side finally set in.
Aside from the battle cries going on above, the eerie silence clawed at his ears. He had surely broken a rib, maybe an arm too, but Robin needed to get up. He had to. He could see the black boots of his mentor storming toward him with all the more rage in his step as he neared.
There was a pause, a small silence in the universe, even from Superboys' cries, when the struggling sidekick found he couldn't bring himself to his feet. His arms trembled, his legs quivered with the sensation of pins and needles, and on the side of his face he could feel a droplet that didn't resemble sweat but rather something that made his head spin and his vision double.
I'll keep going to work and he won't see a change
"Batman-- wait!" The plea that shattered the stillness seemed to be admitting something deeper than a beg for mercy. Robin grasped at his pained side desperately, rolling over to glance at the masked man's face, as if that would change his programmed need to destroy and kill anything in his way. His face was unwavering, yet the void of his mask seemed colder and less kind than before. He was different. Unrecognisably cruel.
Save perhaps a slight gray in my eye
"Hey," a broken chuckle wormed its way out of his throat. It was unfortunately half-hearted and filled to the brim with fear. Fear? Was he, the Boy Wonder—no! No, he wouldn't be afraid! He wasn't! Was he? The desperate tone lingered in his voice.
I will go jogging routinely
Batman glared down at him unblinkingly—he had enough. His gloved hand reached for Robin's throat, creating a grip almost impossible to break through. The victim in question staggered backward instinctively as the palm reached out to him, but he could only do so much in the state he was in. Robin thrashed, kicking his legs weakly and clawing at his arm when he realized the blood trickling down the side of his face had begun to drip onto the ground and, by extension, his mentor's hand.
Calmly and rhythmically run
On the floor above them, Superboy had successfully deactivated the chip on Superman and noticed the lack of action below. He pounded through the concrete, sliding from floor to floor, before landing on the edge of the platform and seeing the state of the Boy Wonder in Batman's grasp.
And when I find that a knife sticking out of my side
Robin managed to twist his body, crying out at the pain that crashed through his figure, attempting to wiggle free and out of this death wish. Gasping for air, he gave a desperate look to Superboy, who immediately dashed forward to grab the fallen chip.
I'll pull it out without questioning why
He couldn't possibly have been fast enough to prevent Batman from pulling out the batarang.
And then one warm summer night
The next couple moments were a blinding flash of light as the clone leapt forward and slammed the Starotech against Batman's neck. A zap of blue light forced him to tumble backward and, as a result, release the young hero. Robin crashed into the ground once more, landing with a terrible thud, but this time made no attempt to pick himself up. He lay curled up, with short, wheezy breaths, and his cape draped to the side like the injured wing of a bird.
I'll hear fireworks outside
There was a pause, a whirlwind of emotions from both parties as Superboy watched the still figure of Batman on the floor, looking up only a second later to usher to his teammates side. From Robin's perspective, he could guess that he was swiftly muttering reassurances and questions on how he was feeling, though all of his speech was muffled beyond comprehension, and he could barely spot his blue eyes in the midst of the peach and black blob. His body ached, and he could feel himself trembling, even in the moment, feeling embarrassed to be in such a state in front of a colleague. Colleague? Superboy was-
For a moment the ringing in his ears returned: "Robin! You idiot! Don't pass out! And stop shivering! The batarang..." his hearing returned to the soft buzz, but the clones words clung to his mind. Batarang? What was he-
And I'll listen to the memories as they
"Batarang?"
cry,
The question answered itself. He glanced down at his frail figure and swore at his mind when his vision focused just to immediately spot the black, bat-shaped blade sticking out from his chest.
cry,
Superboy continued to talk to him, but he had completely stopped paying attention. Did Batman-? Slowly, the pain began to ebb at his chest. There was a shudder from Robin, and mixed with the blood, one could spot tears falling from behind the mask.
No, oh no.
cry
God, oh no. Stomach tightening, he curled his legs in toward his torso. In the back of his mind, he could tell Superboy was trying to help. The blood was flowing; oh, god, it was flowing a lot. The pain was increasing, and he was struggling to breathe. With every exhale, his lung was pierced by the cracked rib. It tore at his throat, and he gave up on any pretense of nobility. Sobs began to wreck his body, and in the corner of his half-shut eyes, he could see the dark knight begin to stir.
I will be married to silence
"ROBIN!"
The gentleman won't say a word
Superboy was shoved backward in an almost uncharacteristically flimsy push from Batman, who ushered to his sidekicks side in a heartbeat. His face was worryingly flashing across Robin's frame, eyes finally landing and widening at the sight of the onyx blade in the middle of his chest. The onyx blade that belonged to him.
But you know, oh you know in the quiet he holds
Runs a river that'll never find home
The swamp of scarlet that cloaked the gray floor attracted his gaze, and he could immediately tell the boy's strength was wavering. Robin returned a small smile—a small, sad smile that spoke more volumes than he could ever fathom to say out loud. Batman, for the first time, in a long, long time, felt helpless. He could only watch in horror while his sidekick—no, his son—bled out at his feet. From the wrath of his own hand.
And then one warm summer night
"FUCK, SUPERBOY. WON'T YOU CALL SOMEONE, DAMMIT?" The order shook him to his core. Robin was beginning to still, and he kept shaking him awake. He wouldn't let his apprentice die like this. He shouldn't. He couldn't. He wouldn't allow it. Soon, someone would come. Superman, perhaps. Miss Martian. Someone. Anyone. They had to. What would happen if they didn't?
I'll hear fireworks outside
Robin spluttered, heaved, and tried everything he could to keep breathing. To keep his eyes open, pitifully staring into Batman's face. To stay alive. Was this the same man that had trained him? The stone-faced, unbreakable beast that shared his emotions with nobody? Could it be, really? He was unrecognizable. He always assumed the Dark Knight was tough on everybody, especially him as a type of successor. He craved his validation and assumed he didn't care. How could it be that he's here now, holding his frail head up and pressing on the wound he himself caused?
"Shit, Robin. Shit."
And I'll listen to the memories as they cry, cry, cry
Far away, he could hear people yelling. Yelling about what was a mystery, but he could probably guess. Over time, it grew quieter.
Oh, one warm summer night
His eyelids grew heavy. Batman kept snapping his figures to keep him awake. Shake him gently. Brush a stray, bloodstained lock of hair out of his eyes. He tried, too. It was getting harder. Batman kept saying something, something about an apology, and he was disappointed they weren't in a better situation so he could tease him for this.
I'll hear fireworks outside
In the end, he could make out what he was saying.
"Don't fall asleep, Dick."
And I'll listen to the memories as they cry, cry, cry
By the time Superboy returned with Batman's request for help, the rash, violent rise and fall of Robin's chest had deflated, and the man kneeled over his body was staring numbly at his face. His forever stilled, masked face.
Cry, cry, cry
Superman inched forward carefully and stood behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder. The air hummed as if it were alive and seemed to carry the song of a lost son.
Cry, cry, cry
He couldn't believe those sapphire eyes would never gleam at him again.