Chapter Text
Steve screeches into the parking lot, barely remembering to throw his car in park before he shoves open his door and sprints over to the ambulance he'd seen from the top of the hill.
He shoves past the EMTs, ignores the way someone says Sir! Wait please! and barrels around the open door, catching sight of Erica and Dustin's tearstained faces and bloody clothes. He throws himself forward, reaching out for both of them, refusing to blink as he stares at them.
"Are you two— are you hurt?" he barks out, wincing at the tone, and softening it down, still ignoring the murmuring of the emergency service workers behind him. "Are you—" He pats down both of their arms, fear swirling in his stomach at the way neither of them are responding to him. "Erica— Dustin— are you—"
He pauses.
It hits him suddenly.
Where the hell is Robin?
"Dustin," he says, stepping back and pulling his hands away from the two of them. "Dustin— where's Robin?"
He watches the two of them flinch, before Dustin peels his gaze off the distant point he'd been staring at. "She's—" he starts, before faltering and looking back at the same point.
Steve turns slowly.
(Later, this moment will blur for him, this rush of movement, the way he caught sight of— of her and sprinted, the way he dropped down and screamed, but in the moment it's slow. Almost peaceful.)
Steve turns and catches sight of the white sheet, carefully draped over a body.
He steps forward, drifting through the crowd easily, sidestepping when an officer attempts to stop him, and crouches down by the corner of the sheet, before he flings it back and freezes.
Distantly, he's aware of the sounds of shouting, aware of the sounds of Dustin and Erica shouting, of someone yelling at him— but it all fades as he stares down at Robin's still and placid face, blood smeared around her mouth.
"Robs?" he whispers, falling to his knees and crawling forward, uncaring of the way grit catches and drags against his jeans. "Robin?" He reaches out, touching her face, and watches as a slow seep of blood spills from her mouth.
"She's— she needs help," he says, unable to look away. "Someone please, she's— she's hurt — she's bleeding — she's just— why aren't you doing anything?" he shouts, still staring at that drop of blood curving down her cheek, dark like syrup. "Someone please —"
The rest of his words are cut off by someone slamming into him.
He goes to throw them off, only to pause as Dustin's voice somehow pierces through.
"She's gone, Steve," he whispers, sounding so sad that Steve knows instinctively; he's not lying. "She died—" He sniffs in Steve's ear. "She died protecting— she saved Erica and me."
Steve stares down at Robin's still face and blinks. He hears faintly, the sounds of someone screaming, someone wailing as if they've been killed, the sound shrill and sharp but distant, as if heard through a wall.
Oh , he thinks, as he inhales raggedly, the air sharp in his throat. I'm screaming.
Oh , he thinks again, as he contemplates not screaming but doesn't, as the sound quivers through the air, unrelenting and merciless, as he feels Dustin curl tighter into his back and Erica clamber under his arm, shoving her wet face into his neck. Robin's dead.