Chapter Text
Dust and metal covered almost every bit of ground on the streets of Metropolis, leaving immense amounts of destruction behind and nothing else.
Sounds of mechanical whirring and panicked cries filled the air as the heat of the battle just wouldn’t subdue, but Hal wasn’t paying attention to any of that; his heart was all the way up in his throat, the furious beating of it drowning out every other sound as time froze for a long, agonizing moment.
Hal’s eyes were set on Batman’s slumped figure. Without a second thought, Hal hastily made his way over to Bruce’s side, deviating from the original plan in favor of protecting his defenseless husband.
And to think things were going well at first. It wasn’t their first time fighting off an army of murderous robots and it probably wasn’t their last time either. Despite the army of mechanical creatures being in the significant advantage in numbers, Hal had thought that this was a battle they’d have no trouble facing. And he’d been right, too. Batman’s plan was holding up well; the ill-crafted bots were no match for the Justice League, just as Hal had expected.
However, things started going downhill after nearly four hours of non-stop chaos and fighting. But by the time Hal realized something was off, it had already been too late.
He’d been so caught up in crushing as many robot zombies as he could with a giant construction of a tank that he almost didn’t take notice of a familiar silhouette running across the battlefield, dodging the robots instead of fighting them. Hal remembered wondering what Bruce was trying to achieve with this unusual strategy, but it quickly became evident that he was carrying a small child in his arms, pressed securely against his chest as he attempted to pave a way to safety.
Hal was getting ready to clear a path for him, but then the most unexpected happened— Batman stumbled. Bruce rarely stumbled, and it immediately set off the alarm bells in Hal’s head.
But it all happened so fast, and not even a second later, he’d witnessed Bruce crumbling to the ground like a ragdoll, his body going completely limp before he’d even hit the ground. It was almost like someone pulled a plug. Hal had nearly screamed his name right then and right there, though he only just refrained himself from doing so.
And now, it took Hal all of his might not to panic at the sight of Bruce’s collapsed figure.
“Shit. C’mon, let’s get you out of here, kid. I’ll take care of him, don’t worry,” Hal muttered, trying to coax the hysterical child out of Bruce’s limp arms so he could get a better look at the man. He attempted to sound reassuring, but there was an unmistakable tremble in his voice. He was probably more terrified than the kid was. “Flash, I need you here. Immediately.”
In one blurry motion, Barry appeared by his side within less than a second, probably having sensed the urgency in Hal’s voice. He took one glance at the scene and nodded in understanding, taking the child in his arms.
“I’ll go get back up.” Was all he said, and then he was gone again, leaving Hal to tend to Bruce.
The battle faded into the background as Hal used his ring to shield them from the iron horde. They were safe for now, but none of that would actually matter if Bruce was already dead.
No, Hal couldn’t think like that, even though the thought terrified him more than anything. The situation demanded his full, rational attention.
His fingers automatically reached to check Bruce’s pulse in his neck, but it was no use at all with that damned cowl blocking out his palpitation. Fortunately, Bruce was still breathing, but even Hal knew that it wouldn’t hold up for long, given the way the rise and fall of his chest was weak and barely even there. He needed immediate medical attention.
With his heart nearly hammering out his chest, Hal moved to position Bruce to lie flat on his back, but much to his horror, his once pristine white gloves, now worn by battle, came back stained with slippery blood. And not just a little bit.
Hal glanced at what he could only guess was a makeshift gauze wrapped tightly around Bruce’s torso, and slowly removed it.
“Fuck, Bruce.” He sharply sucked in a breath upon eyeing the very serious wound that Bruce had carefully concealed, barely even noticeable with the surrounding black material of Bruce’s armor. It looked like Bruce had been roughly stabbed in the side.
Hal let out a colorful string of curses. He should’ve known that Bruce wouldn’t notify anyone of his life threatening injury. God knows for how long he’d been walking around with his guts threatening to spill out.
“Come on, sweetheart. Wake up,” Hal whispered as he cradled the back of Bruce’s head. “Please, breathe for me. I know you can hear me, you bastard. Don’t you dare leave me like this. Please.”
The bleeding was bad, the pool of blood growing alongside the chance of Bruce not making it. Using another construction to keep Bruce’s head propped up, Hal shifted to apply pressure on the wound in order to prevent any more blood loss from happening.
He felt completely and utterly helpless, watching the life being slowly drained from his lover’s body and not being able to do anything about it but wait until help arrived.
He wanted to cry out in both fear and frustration, but he didn’t dare make a move nor sound. He could only wait. Every second that Bruce remained unmoving and dangerously still only fueled Hal’s growing apprehension, twisting his guts until he felt physically sick.
“Fuck. You’re going to be alright, baby. Just stay with me. Bruce? Bruce, please. I can’t lose you.”
It was like time stretched out to an eternity, with Hal pleading for Bruce to wake up while the other showed no signs of life besides the occasional shaky exhale he let out every now and then. Hal clung onto those like a lifeline.
Then, he felt a sudden warm hand being placed on his shoulder. Startled, he turned to find Diana’s worried gaze boring into his.
“Green Lantern, we must get Batman medical attention at once. You have done a fine job looking after him, but you have to let go now,” She gently stated, and Hal only just noticed how he’d been holding onto Bruce in a protective, near desperate manner.
Also, it appeared that the dust had already settled, not a single robot left in sight. Hal hadn’t even noticed in his state of agony.
The rest of the team had gathered around them, each and every one of them looking at the pair with a mix of concern and mild confusion.
Right. They didn't know about them.
Hal was naturally protective of the people he loved, but his teammates were of course completely oblivious to the fact that Bruce was one of those people. It must be strange for them, seeing Hal so emotional over someone whose buttons he tended to press the most, even if that had been their secret little game right from the beginning.
But this wasn’t a game. Bruce’s breath was getting shallower by the second and Hal was pretty sure that Clark could hear his heartbeat weaken as well. Or maybe not, with the lead lining that he’d installed in his armor.
Damn it, Bruce.
“Please, Hal. You need to get some rest.”
It looked like it was now Barry’s turn to try and convince Hal to take care of himself for the umpteenth time. The speedster handed him a bottle of water, which Hal gladly accepted, but otherwise refused to budge in his uncomfortable plastic chair.
“Sorry. No can do,” He mumbled tiredly as he ran a hand down his worn face. After they’d arrived at the Watchtower, Bruce was immediately transported away for an emergency surgery, and Hal hadn’t left the waiting room once. He simply couldn’t. Not when his husband was out there fighting for his life, even though the battle had been won a while ago.
He did change out of his beaten uniform, though that was mostly because he couldn’t handle the sight of Bruce’s blood covering nearly every inch of his gloves. For some cursed reason, he couldn’t stop thinking about Bruce’s lips earlier, stained with trails of blood while deprived of its natural color.
He glanced at his watch. God, it had been hours already. The uncertainty of it all was killing him.
He distantly heard Barry sigh and take a seat beside him. “Well, at least try not to lose yourself by chronically worrying over him. And besides, this is Bruce. I’m sure he’ll pull through. The crazy son of a bitch has gone through stuff worse than this. He wouldn’t let a simple stab wound take him out.”
He barely even took in Barry’s words, merely humming in acknowledgment, his hand grazing over the wedding band that he wore around his neck underneath his shirt. It was almost their anniversary. What if Bruce wasn’t going to make it? What would Hal tell the kids? A million thoughts swarmed around his head, spreading and multiplying like a virus, each of them worse than the previous. Hal couldn’t stop himself from choking on a sob, his head falling in his hands. So incredibly lost in what could be, Hal didn’t even notice Barry’s watchful gaze resting on him, studying him.
“Hal,” He cautiously called, his expression shifting to something softer, though Hal only heard him the second time he called his name. “Hal. I don’t know what's going on in that thick head of yours, but it’s not your fault, alright?”
Hal paused, staring at the wall ahead of them.
“You couldn’t have known. If the Bat doesn’t want you to know, then you simply won’t. There was no way of telling, man.”
Hal wanted to snap, to free himself from the never ending fear and frustration, but he remained still, his body tired with the weight of his consciousness.
“I could’ve known,” He whispered, so soft it was almost inaudible. “Fuck, I should’ve known. I know him, Barry– I know Bruce. I should’ve seen it coming, or at least noticed that something wasn’t right.”
He couldn’t even be bothered to conceal his distress. The words got stuck on his throat, threatening to choke him, and Barry looked at him with concern, his lips forming a thin line. He didn’t know that Bruce was his everything, and that if he died in that room, Hal would have nothing but a gaping hole left in his chest.
Before Barry had a chance to counter his words, the door opened, revealing an exhausted looking surgeon. Hal’s head snapped at her like whiplash, afraid of what he might find, but judging by the doctor’s tired yet soft smile, the news must be something positive.
“The surgery was a success.” She then confirmed, and Hal let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, his shoulders sagging with relief. “Whatever stabbed him had also penetrated a part of his liver, so we had to remove a small part of it. He has lost a lot of blood due to internal bleeding, but he should be fine within the next few months. He’s still slightly unstable as we speak, so we’ll still have to monitor him for the next few days. We’re also keeping him on the ventilator to make breathing a little easier, though that’s more of a precaution than an absolute necessity.”
Thank fuck. Bruce was going to be alright. He could actually burst into tears any moment now.
“So what caused him to drop like he was going through some factory reset?”
“We believe that his sudden collapse is a result of the internal bleeding and Mr. Wayne’s lack of proper rest, which is unfortunately often the case with him.” She grimaced. “You wouldn’t happen to know when he last slept for at least six hours, would you, Mr. Jordan?”
Hal pinched the bridge of his nose as he thought, pointedly ignoring Barry staring quizzically.
“I think about maybe four days ago? Five? I’m not sure. Everything’s still kind of a blur, honestly,” He admitted. Barry raised a brow, probably wondering how Hal knew this, but he paid him no mind. Hal could basically feel the adrenaline wearing off now that it’d been confirmed that Bruce was no longer in life-threatening danger. “Can I go see him?”
The woman shot him an apologetic look. “Our policy firmly states that, unless direct family, no visitors are allowed directly after surgery. Also, he’s still wearing off on the anesthetic and considering the state he’s in, I highly doubt that he’ll be able to comprehend his surroundings.”
Hal wanted to laugh and tell her that that’s where she was wrong about Bruce. Somehow, the man always knew what was going on, no matter how absurd or detrimental the situation.
“What if I’m direct family to Bruce?” Hal questioned instead. To hell with everything. Hal didn’t care about the questions he raised; all he wanted was to be by Bruce’s side, and he was going to get there, one way or another.
He stared into the doctor’s eyes, silently pleading. The woman stared back for a moment, seeming to understand that Hal needed to be by Bruce’s side.
“Alright,” She sighed. “We’ve moved him to the medical bay. You’re welcome to accompany Mr. Wayne by his bedside. However, I can’t have you disturb his bedrest, so please be as silent as you can manage.”
Hal instantly shot up from his seat with a speed that could level Barry’s.