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The ships detonate one by one, and as the battle eases and everybody breathes sighs of relief, the anxiety in Kon grows.
“Red Robin,” he says into the chatter of the comm, “Come in.”
Tim doesn't.
“Red, dude, answer me,” he can see Red Hood perk up, wondering if the request is for him, but standard procedure is for him to go by Hood over comms with both him and RR on the field.
The ships keep exploding, gone are the ones on the left, now the ones on the right are going down, the mothership in the middle untouched.
The combat is dead now, everyone regrouping. Kon is supposed to meet with the YJ remnants, then with the Teen Titans, and then they'll group together and find the JL.
Tim still doesn't answer.
Chatter's died down on the comms because they're supposed to be regrouping. Everyone's talking in person now, except Kon is breaking protocol because Tim is nowhere to be found.
Kon takes to the skies, drawing eyes. He's hovering slightly above all the buildings, twisting and turning for any sign of Tim.
“Robin fucking answer me,” he shouts, and any residual chatter dies immediately. He can see the newest Robin scan for him and reach for his comms, but Batman beats him to it.
“Superboy, report,” he barks, and Kon looks back up at the ships. A few more and then the mothership and still no Tim.
“No Red Robin,” Kon says, “I can't get eyes, ears, Kryptonian or comms, he won't fucking come in.”
The comms ignite with chatter again, a flurry of sounds from the Gotham vigilantes. Nightwing and Robin splitting off to get verbal check ins from the Titans and YJ remnants in case of a broken comm, Black Bat, Spoiler, and Signal canvassing his main area of activity and medical shelters, Batwoman and Huntress take to the rooftops and scour quieter areas, Red Hood calling in his lackies and telling the Outlaws and anyone else on the ground to start fucking looking-
And Kon can hear Batman order Oracle to start piecing together whatever Tim's gameplan was while he has the JL start looking and Kon - Kon -
“He got his hands on one of the robo-alien things,” he says, and Batman's breath hitches. Kon looks up at the ships, just one more until the mothership. “He said he could take the fleet out if he could get his hands on their controls. He said the robo-alien would be enough but I-”
The smaller ship explodes. The mothership remains. “No,” Batman breathes, horrified, catching on. He looks up, and Kon witnesses the crowd follow his action as they slowly, but surely, piece it together. The comms stay dead except for the Bats.
“I think he lied to me,” Kon says quietly, choked up. He can hear the hull groaning, the explosion already starting. It's the biggest one yet, and he thinks it would've been beautiful if it hadn't-
Well, if it hadn't taken Tim from him.
There's another surge of noise over the comm, and Kon takes it out of his ear and holds it loosely in his hand as he stares despondently at the burning vessel and fiery debris. He floats even higher, and closes his eyes, pretending the warmth of the explosion is Tim's.
He presses the comm back to his ear, still frantic with chatter, and breathes. His voice cracks when he tries to speak, and if Tim were-
If Tim were here, Kon allows himself, he would never let me live it down.
“This is Superboy, I'm done for the day.” He clears his throat and fights back tears, “For a little bit, probably.”
The noise dies off again, before Batman speaks again, voice heavy. “Stay safe, Superboy. Stay in,” his breath hitches, and Kon fights tears all over again, “Stay in contact.” There are varying murmurs of agreement from the rest of the Bats and before Kon can turn off his comm, feedback squeals over the line.
“I'd rather you not,” the audio is grainy and crackly, and it feels like salvation and late nights and half-broken promises. “Red Robin to Air-Kon, requesting a ride, pronto. Glider's down, and if you take the day off, I go splat. You wouldn't do that to your - oof!”
Superboy's comm is falling from ten stories and Tim is - Tim is -
Tim is alive, and he's in Kon's arms, looking up at him with wide blue eyes and his lips are moving and his heart is beating.
The Bats have converged on one roof with their closer vigilante partners, so that's where Kon lands them.
It might be his worst landing yet - too fast, too jerky, he skips and stumbles and falls to his knees, but Tim is alive and in his arms, and nothing else matters.
Distantly, he expects to be bombarded immediately but when he takes a quick glance, he can see Batman of all people holding everyone back.
Everyone's mouth is moving, and Kon can't make out anything they're saying, and he's never felt this sick before, so he just shoves his face back into Tim's chest, where he can hone in on the beating of his heart. Sensations come back at once - the silence gives way to roaring, which eventually becomes actual noise, and then Kon can finally piece together everything else: his shaking hands, his gasping breaths, the sweat beading on his neck despite the full-body chill he feels, and the salt trailing down his cheeks.
The only thing keeping Kon sane is Tim. Tim’s heartbeat in his ears, Tim’s arms wrapped around him, his gentle hand running through his hair, and his soft kisses pressed to his skin through breaks in his murmured apologies.
Thump-thump. “I'll never do it again, Kon, I promise,” Kon can feel lips against his temple. Thump-thump. “I never meant to scare you, to hurt you. I'm okay, baby, I'm okay.” His forehead. Thump-thump. “You saved me. You did so good taking care of me. Now it's my turn to take care of you.” His cheek. Thump-thump. “Rest, Kon, I've got you. I won't let you go. I'll be here when you wake up.” His jaw. Thump-thump. “Sleep, Kon, hush. I love you.” Featherlight against his lips. Thump-thump.
Footsteps scurry closer, and Kon burrows into safe-warm-mine and sleeps.