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Jon wanted to cry.
He might’ve already been, honestly. He couldn’t feel his face anymore, not with the swelling from the punches he took, so he didn’t actually know.
Everything hurt. He could feel the blood running down his body, filling up his shoes. His powers had short-circuited again, right in the middle of the fight, and the enemy took advantage. Took a lot of advantage.
His dad would be so disappointed in him.
The rope swung a little, and he felt Damian’s cape flutter against the back of his legs. Damian was much worse off. Barely conscious, and tied awkwardly against Jon’s back, high up above the…the pit, or the vat or whatever they’d been dangled over.
Even if they could escape right now, Damian wouldn’t be able to save himself. Jon probably wouldn’t be able to save him either.
“Damian…” Jon breathed, through a fat lip. He turned his head, and out of the corner of his eye, saw Damian try to lift his, though to no success. In the end, his head dropped again with a painful grunt, and he tried to pat his hand against Jon’s side, the only thing he could reach.
“It’s okay.” Damian wheezed, and it sounded wet. Jon knew blood was flying out of his mouth. “It’s okay, Kent. We’ll…we’ll figure something out.”
“And if we don’t?”
Damian paused, and suddenly Jon felt fingers reaching for his. He twisted his wrist as much as he could, and grasped Damian’s fingers with all his remaining strength. He could feel both of their broken bones in his grip.
“…Then we go out together.” Damian mumbled.
Jon nodded, tilting his head back, and balancing it on the cable that suspended them. He glanced down, to where the villain – he didn’t even remember who he was – was monologging. He didn’t care. He wasn’t listening.
“…Do you think Batman will blame me?” Jon asked over his shoulder.
Damian huffed a sour laugh. “Only after your father blames me first.”
Jon tried to smile. Didn’t know if he succeeded – still couldn’t feel his cheeks. “Our dads are pretty lame, huh?”
Damian mimicked his posture, leaning his head back against the wire and looking over his shoulder. “The lamest.”
“I can’t believe we wanted to be like them.”
“Me either.” Damian sighed. He stopped and looked down. The villain was cackling, and pointing at them, so Damian used as much might as he had, and spit on him. It landed square on the villain’s face, and he didn’t take well to the humiliation. Shouted something to a henchman, and suddenly the cable dropped. Eight, nine, ten feet before it snapped taut again, jerking their broken bodies, and electrocuting them both with pain. Damian moaned through grit teeth, and Jon let out a loud howl. Their captor seemed pleased.
When the pain subsided once more, Damian grunted:
“What…what do you regret most, Superboy?” A sharp inhale. “What did you never get to do that you wanted?”
“You sound like an old man.” Jon returned, trying to be jovial. Not much else you could do, when you were going to die. “…I don’t know. Be close with Conner? I never could get him to like me, no matter how hard I tried.”
“Hm.”
“You?”
“…The same, basically.” Damian croaked. “I don’t think Drake ever knew how much I didn’t hate him, in the end. I guess I didn’t try hard enough, or do enough or…whatever.” He stopped, and listened to the sounds below them. “…And that really sucked.”
“Yeah?”
“Even Todd knew I didn’t hate him.” Damian continued mournfully. “And Brown. Even Kon-El knew we could be civil, when we needed to be, but. Drake never…he never trusted my sincerity, but I guess I deserved that.”
“I don’t know about that.” Jon countered, gently, squeezing the fingers he was still holding. Those broken fingers shifted in his grasp. “…I wish I could tell my folks I love them one more time.”
“…Do you think they’ll hate us?” Damian whispered. “I…I think my father resented me for dying last time. For leaving him. I wonder if he will again.”
“They won’t.” Jon shook his head. Blinked rapidly, suddenly, as there was instantly blood dripping into his eye. “They’ll blame themselves, not us.”
“…Then I wish I could assure them that it’s not.” Damian returned. “This is our fault, not theirs. We were unprepared, and ran in anyway.” He sighed, as the villain shouted something else, something about lowering them to their doom. “I think that might be my biggest regret, here. We’ll leave them blaming themselves for this, when they have nothing to do with it.”
“It’s our fault.” Jon echoed in agreement. He sniffed and – yeah, he was crying. Imagine that. He squeezed Damian’s fingers again. “…Thanks for being here with me Damian.”
“We’re partners. I’d be a terrible teammate if I’d have let you come here alone. Just as you’d have been terrible if you let me come alone.” Damian said haughtily. Or as haughtily as he could, given his state. Jon knew it was a mutual decision on both their parts though, and Damian’s words gave him some comfort. “…And I suppose if I had to die in the line of duty, there’s no one else I’d rather go down with.”
Jon laughed, and it turned into a cough. There was a loud click, and suddenly their line started to drop. “Me too, man. Me too.”
And with that, they were resigned to their fate. Jon closed his eyes, kept his fingers hooked around Damian’s. Wondered if asking if this was how Jason Todd felt when he died would have been inappropriate. Realized it didn’t matter – he’d be dead in five minutes.
So he opened his mouth to ask, when suddenly there was a crash, and sunlight instantly burst in from the hole in the roof. The hole that definitely wasn’t there before.
The wire they were connected to shook.
Another crash, and Jon’s eyes flew open. He heard screams and gunfire, and the sound of something being thrown into a wall, and held there.
He could feel Damian looking around, and began to himself. He didn’t have to look far. The platform their enemy had been standing on was empty, save for a few men. The villain himself was being held high above the ground, shoved into the concrete brick by an angry hand on his throat.
“…Dad…?” Jon breathed. His eyes were still swollen, and blood still oozing, so he couldn’t quite make it out. It was a meta, for sure. They were flying. Suspended in air. But he didn’t see a cape. He didn’t even see blue, he just saw-
“No.” Damian breathed, suddenly jerking, like he could get out of this rope, like he was trying to see better. “No, Jon. Superboy, it’s your-”
“You really thought you would get away with it?” The meta’s voice was cold, and furious, and…young. Teenager, maybe. The villain whimpered, and the meta slammed him against the wall again. “You really thought you’d try to kill my little brother, and get away with it?”
Jon thought he was going to have a heart attack. He thought maybe he’d already died. But he jerked too, like Damian had. Kept blinking the blood and tears out of his eyes.
“Kon?!”
“I should return the favor.” Conner hissed, and the threat echoed through the warehouse. “I should rip your fucking head off your-”
The roof suddenly groaned again, and their rope lurched, slowly beginning to swing side to side.
“Kon!” Another voice, frantic and terrified, and Damian swiveled to look at the other side of the warehouse. Red Robin was in the remains of a newly-shattered window, clearly having just gotten on scene himself. His eyes were wide behind his mask as he stared at the destroyed roof. “The pulley!”
And Jon watched as Kon spun around, the terror in Tim’s voice clear on his face. Without thought, he dropped the villain, turning in the air and flying upwards. Jon looked up himself, saw that the pulley holding them was hooked up right where the roof was torn open. Right on the edge, he realized now, of where Kon had flown in.
But Kon was only halfway to the pulley system when it snapped away from the ceiling debris.
“No!” It was Damian who shouted in despair, and Jon got that. They’d suddenly had hope that they’d survive, and here, now, that hope was turning out to be for naught.
But Kon turned on a dime, diving downwards faster than Jon had ever seen anyone fly, even his father.
“I gotcha, I gotcha,” Kon repeated as he flew, hands wide in front of him as he reached for them. Jon forgot the rope for that millisecond, and pulled at his bonds to try to reach back, to try and fly, do anything to help his predecessor. “I…”
Jon closed his eyes in a sudden bout of fear, but suddenly felt himself being held. Felt Damian being held too, and their backs being pushed together slightly in the grip. He heard the awful sounds from below them, much, much closer now. Like they’d been grabbed mere feet from their destruction.
He jerked his head up, opened his eyes and found Kon staring down at him with a relieved smile. “…Gotcha.”
“Kon!” Tim screamed again, and they could hear him looking over the edge of another platform. “…Oh thank god. Thank freaking god.”
“You’re here. You’re here.” Jon started immediately, squirming in Kon’s arms even as he began to rise. “I’m sorry, Conner. We should have told you guys. We should have had backup, we should have-”
“Shhh, calm down.” Kon returned gently, sounding a whole heck of a lot like his dad. “It’s okay, kid. One thing at a time. Let’s get you two safe, okay?”
Tim’s voice suddenly became louder as they rose to his level. “…them. We got them, B. They’re still alive.”
“Drake.” Damian croaked, even as Tim released his communicator, already reaching out to cut him and Jon free, before Kon even put them down. “D-Drake, you’re-”
“I got you, bro.” Tim whispered, crouching as Kon carefully placed them on the platform. He kept sawing feverishly, as if it was the rope that was the real threat to them. “Just give me one…”
There was a commotion on the platform across the floor, and Tim and Conner looked up to find the one who orchestrated the whole thing trying to pick him up from where Kon had thrown him, and escape.
“Kon.” Tim’s voice was dripping with maliciousness, as he continued cutting the rope. He glanced up at Kon, and saw the same dark look in his eyes too. “Make sure that dick can’t get out of here.” A pause. “…And make sure to put him somewhere Batman and Superman can find him easily.”
Jon glanced up just in time to see Conner grin. “You got it, Rob. Sniveling Baddie Special, coming right up.”
The ropes finally broke as soon as Kon flew away, and they sighed, as Tim worked to pull the ropes away from them as fast as possible.
And as soon as he was free, Jon scrambled to stand, tried to get to his feet and will his powers to work again to go after Kon.
“Ooooooh, no you don’t. And you either, Damian.” He felt a tug on his shirt and immediately fell back into Tim’s embrace. His shoulder bounced off Damian’s, who’s consciousness was fading once more. But just like Kon, Tim hummed soothingly, “I gotcha, I gotcha.” Jon heard the click of a cape being unfastened, and suddenly, it was being fluttered over him and Damian both, as they were leaned back against the nearby wall. “You don’t need to help him. He’ll be okay. This is where he wants you to be. You’re safe now.”
“How…” Damian wheezed, even as Tim began to check them both for the full extent of their injuries. “How’d you know?”
“W-we…we didn’t tell anybody…” Jon slurred, flinching when Tim’s face was suddenly in his line of vision, fingers carefully outlining his face.
“Please. Everyone knew.” Tim snorted. “You two aren’t as sneaky as you think. We always have GPS on Damian. And your dad was tracking your heartbeat, Jonno.” Tim frowned then, wiping blood from Jon’s brow. “…We mobilized as soon as Damian’s GPS went offline. I…I’m sorry we didn’t get here fast enough.”
“B-but…” Damian must have slumped a little too far, because suddenly Tim was gone, and Jon heard him grunt as he pulled him back up and curled him into an embrace against his chest. He kept one arm tight around Damian’s shoulders, and continued his examination of Jon with the other. “You didn’t have…I-I’m sure Superman, or…or at least Grayson…”
“What,” Kon was suddenly back, floating carefully downwards. As soon as he knelt next to them, he pulled Jon – cape cocoon and all – into his arms, holding him gently, but protectively. Like his dad would. Like Tim was doing with Damian, now. Like real family members do. “We aren’t allowed to come save our brothers too?”
Jon was floored. Almost keeled over right there. Probably would have, if Conner didn’t pick up where Tim had left off, checking him for injuries and wiping the blood from his face. “You…you called me your brother…but…but you said you don’t like…me…”
Kon pursed his lips in slight embarrassment. “…I might’ve said that, yeah.” He paused and hesitantly leaned forward, leaning his head on Jon’s. “But I’m also a really big jerk, so…”
“What he means,” Tim laughed, wrapping Damian’s own cape around him now, rocking him just slightly. “Is just because we say we don’t like you, doesn’t mean you aren’t our little brothers.”
“And it for sure doesn’t mean we won’t kick the piss out of anyone who hurts you.” Kon added. “But…I am sorry I made you feel that way, Jonno. Today made me…well. Today made me realize that I didn’t mean it. That you’re my little brother, that Damian’s Tim’s little brother, and despite the fact that I – we – push you guys away for dumb reasons and have dumb jealousies and all that, we didn’t…I mean, it’s not like…”
“What he’s trying to say is despite all the crap, we don’t ever want to suddenly have to live a life without either of you in it. And when Damian’s GPS went offline and we realized what kind of danger you babies were in, well. We panicked just as much as our dads, if not more so.” Tim explained, with a hint of amusement and a hint of embarrassment. “Now, both of you relax. Sleep, if you need. Kon and I were only the front line. The cavalry’s coming, and you two need your rest.”
“Especially if you want to watch Clark and Bruce pound this dude’s face in for you. Because let me tell you – they’re totally gonna.” Kon laughed. “Man, Rob, we shoulda brought popcorn.”
“…You know I don’t hate you?” Damian mumbled, under Tim’s laughter, even as he curled tighter into Tim’s lap. Tim smiled, and leaned his head on Damian’s.
“Of course I do, you cute little cactus.” Tim returned with a relieved sigh. “Just, like Kon said, I’m a big old jerk, and basically tried to ignore it.”
“…Then can we start over?” Jon asked, almost begged, pulling at Conner’s shirt, just a little. “Like…hang out and stuff. But…not when Damian and I are dying, obviously.”
“And not antagonize each other.” Damian added weakly.
“I…don’t see why not.” Kon said slowly, glancing at Tim. Tim was rolling his eyes, planting a kiss on Damian’s forehead. “But after you two are better, deal?”
Jon nodded vigorously, and the older heroes could both see how much that physically hurt him. “Deal.” Jon promised, as Kon cradled his face to make him stop, and practically curled around him. Jon stared up at him with bloody, innocent, hopeful eyes, and whispered, “…Thanks for…for saving us, Kon. I love you.”
Conner seemed surprised by the statement, and Tim snorted, glancing down at his own injured charge. “Told you he did, you big lug.”
“…Yeah.” Kon sighed, running his hand carefully along Jon’s arm, cringing at the feeling of the bruises and cuts covering it. He looked up when he heard a jet in the sky, and saw the shape of the Batplane through the hole he’d created in the roof, followed by a red streak. “Right…right back at you, kid.”
He shifted to lean back against the wall, to sit shoulder to shoulder with Tim, who was looking down at the already-unconscious Damian like he was his newborn son. Tim glanced up at him, and Kon looked down at Jon, who was closing his eyes to doze off, no doubt with the same look of wonder.
“Right back at you.”