(no subject)
Title: Swallowing the Sun
Word Count: 1,501
Summary: There are an infinite number of things Kaldur would rather do than sit here and watch.
A/N: I’m not sure exactly how Kaldur’s hydrokinesis works, so I took slight liberties and assumptions.
-
Robin’s little wet gasps as he struggles to breathe fill the silence and Kaldur bangs against the walls of their prison with just as much desperation. This is like witnessing murder. This is like taking part in it.
Robin appears calm, treading water and nose up in the air as he conserves the little space left in their box. He is thinking. He is panicking. He has no utility belt (- first thing Batman taught me -) and he has nothing on other than the little black diving shorts they left for him after they stripped him bare of his costume and gadgets. He has no sleeves to hide tricks up, and this container is strong. Kaldur has been banging and banging, no shortage of energy in the box full of water for him to breathe. He has no tools though, they took his water bearers as well, and he isn’t sure if he can safely manipulate the water without them in order to break the container. Not without impaling one or both of them in the process with debris or the water itself, and electricity will do no good but to kill Robin.
So he bangs and thinks hard, hoping M’gann will hear him calling for help. They don’t have comm links either, and Kaldur isn’t even sure the team knows exactly where they are right now.
Above him, Robin’s fingers audibly scrabble against the wall closest to him as he examines the make and durability again. The water is to his raised chin now, lapping up onto his cheeks. They don’t have much time left.
There are no words because there is no plan and very little oxygen. Kaldur swims, fast, around the whole box, looking for anything helpful. The water is pumping steadily in through tiny holes on the bottom of the tank - he thinks it is like a grate covering, simultaneously keeping and letting things in, so efficient that there’s no way to dismantle it without the proper tools. He crouches to examine it anyway, brushes his hands over the paneling to see if he can somehow -
Up on top, Robin’s legs start pumping slightly faster. The air pocket is just nearly gone and neither of them are anywhere nearer figuring out how they’re going to keep him breathing. Even with Batman for a mentor preaching about resourcefulness and careful thinking in every situation, the calmness gives way, just a little.
There are an infinite number of impossible things Kaldur would rather do than sit here and watch Robin slowly drown. Swallowing suns and stars and galaxies, drying out in some desert, dying slow and painful himself, none of these are beneath him, he is willing. He is the leader: Robin trusts him to take charge, so he has to figure something out.
As Robin paddles closer into the topmost corner and jams his nose right up into it, breaths coming hard and rough and echoing through the tranquility of the water, Kaldur wonders loosely if he can maybe do perpetual CPR from the oxygen he gets through his gills. He doesn’t know if that works. He doesn’t think so - Aquaman has never mentioned such a skill or its successful execution.
This can’t be it, Kaldur’s thoughts are turning frantic and he drives an angry fist into the floor. It does no damage and Robin takes a deep final breath as the water claims the whole entire tank.
Kaldur claws at the holes - only his pinky finger can slip into the circular space, but at least the equilibrium of pressure doesn’t force his fingers out instantly. There’s no more pumping water into the container, just sitting water waiting for Robin to die. He’s not going to let that happen though, even if he has to try and make gill-to-lung oxygen transfer work for the first time ever, he will do everything in his power -
He swims up to Robin and without any preamble (they don’t have any time left - !) pushes him down towards the bottom. Robin’s fingers should fit, and with no more pressure problems he might be able to figure something out that Kaldur’s just overlooking, not seeing. They return to the bottom and Robin stares, analyzing, before slipping his fingers in and out of the circular spaces experimentally. He grabs hold and yanks and yanks, but nothing happens.
Kaldur stares at Robin’s revealed eyes, naked and blue and piercing without the normal mask in place and that’s half of what’s so unnerving about the younger boy’s expression, it’s so personal. But also Robin’s got that cheeky smile on his face, like he knows some secret and won’t share. It’s got hints of resignation and backwards humor in it and Kaldur doesn’t like it at all.
But Robin keeps smiling. He scans over the whole tank from where he’s sitting on his haunches before shaking his head slowly. His eyes flutter closed, but within the half of a second this takes they’re opening and furiously scanning once more. He’s almost out of breath. Even with the rigorous underwater training he’s sure to have undergone, three minutes is pushing it.
Kaldur thinks of supernovas and apocalypses and Robin suffocating under this water where he on the other hand is so at home, so comfortable, and can’t believe in it. There has to be a way out of this. In the meantime Kaldur refuses to wait and watch. He is leader. There are just so many things he’s willing to sacrifice for the team, to prevent this impossibility from happening.
Robin grabs Kaldur’s arm suddenly, his eyes pleading, his lips parted and then - and then -
Robin is drowning, clinging to Kaldur (or was it he the who reached out to grab Robin?) and drowning, tiny bubbles streaming from his mouth as his lungs force an exhale and his whole body tightens - involuntary panic - as they try to inhale air. Between the two of them, Kaldur can feel his diaphragm fluttering as it expands and fills Robin’s lungs with water. He clings more desperately and tries to will oxygen into Robin through contact and determined thought alone. Robin is still tightening, struggling against the water. He tilts Robin’s face towards him and tries CPR, tries to force that oxygen into him, Kaldur tells Robin to breathe - breathe -
It’s not working. This can’t happen. Robin’s movements are becoming steadily wilder and more rigid and Kaldur just keeps trying to breathe a lifeline into him.
And then suddenly Superboy, down here! is superimposing over his thoughts and the familiar intrusion of M’gann reaching out and touching his mind, identifying for sure that he’s him and -
There is a crash and undiluted noise. The two of them tumble along with the new current spilling out of the tank until Kaldur is laying on the floor, wet and shivering, with Robin as still as death next to him. His eyelashes are stuck together with water and his eyes are closed. But that’s okay, now Kaldur can breathe life into him, now this will work.
When he pulls back from the CPR a second time and Robin begins hacking up water and greedily sucking up air, Kaldur spares a look around at his teammates. Wally and M’gann both are pale and sharing uneasy but triumphant glances, while Superboy shakes water out of his hair and brushes shards off his shirt. He’s climbing out of the hole he’s made from catapulting himself through the container wall to break them out and M’gann flies over to help him.
“Dude?” Wally’s voice is tentative. “Rob, you okay?”
Robin slowly sits up and rubs a hand over his eyes wearily before nodding at everyone. “Thanks Kaldur,” he whispers, partially because his vocal cords are tight from violently coughing and partially because the two of them just experienced near-harrowing death together, it takes a lot to recover from that.
Kaldur nearly bursts into what could either be raucous and inappropriate laughter or messy sobs, the burning flower of raw emotions threatening to blossom in his chest is completely unstable. He pulls himself together just in time, though, before he can do either. “The first thing you say is thank you?” He shoots back incredulously, worry translating as something paternal. “What did I - I was unable to do anything. I am just glad you didn’t die.”
Robin nods quietly and his eyelashes still clump together as he closes his eyes with a sigh. Kaldur fights the urge to take Robin’s face in his hands and trace every contour that screams that he is still alive. He only allows himself to grab Robin’s hand and squeeze and remember the futility in how these hands pulled at the grate to no avail. Remembers, really, how close it all was.
“Thank you,” Kaldur finally says, “For not giving up too soon.”
And Robin just laughs, like there was no other way. Didn’t know I had a choice, he normally would joke, but his shortness of breath and wet bangs in his eyes are too close a reminder that no, no he really didn’t.
Word Count: 1,501
Summary: There are an infinite number of things Kaldur would rather do than sit here and watch.
A/N: I’m not sure exactly how Kaldur’s hydrokinesis works, so I took slight liberties and assumptions.
-
Robin’s little wet gasps as he struggles to breathe fill the silence and Kaldur bangs against the walls of their prison with just as much desperation. This is like witnessing murder. This is like taking part in it.
Robin appears calm, treading water and nose up in the air as he conserves the little space left in their box. He is thinking. He is panicking. He has no utility belt (- first thing Batman taught me -) and he has nothing on other than the little black diving shorts they left for him after they stripped him bare of his costume and gadgets. He has no sleeves to hide tricks up, and this container is strong. Kaldur has been banging and banging, no shortage of energy in the box full of water for him to breathe. He has no tools though, they took his water bearers as well, and he isn’t sure if he can safely manipulate the water without them in order to break the container. Not without impaling one or both of them in the process with debris or the water itself, and electricity will do no good but to kill Robin.
So he bangs and thinks hard, hoping M’gann will hear him calling for help. They don’t have comm links either, and Kaldur isn’t even sure the team knows exactly where they are right now.
Above him, Robin’s fingers audibly scrabble against the wall closest to him as he examines the make and durability again. The water is to his raised chin now, lapping up onto his cheeks. They don’t have much time left.
There are no words because there is no plan and very little oxygen. Kaldur swims, fast, around the whole box, looking for anything helpful. The water is pumping steadily in through tiny holes on the bottom of the tank - he thinks it is like a grate covering, simultaneously keeping and letting things in, so efficient that there’s no way to dismantle it without the proper tools. He crouches to examine it anyway, brushes his hands over the paneling to see if he can somehow -
Up on top, Robin’s legs start pumping slightly faster. The air pocket is just nearly gone and neither of them are anywhere nearer figuring out how they’re going to keep him breathing. Even with Batman for a mentor preaching about resourcefulness and careful thinking in every situation, the calmness gives way, just a little.
There are an infinite number of impossible things Kaldur would rather do than sit here and watch Robin slowly drown. Swallowing suns and stars and galaxies, drying out in some desert, dying slow and painful himself, none of these are beneath him, he is willing. He is the leader: Robin trusts him to take charge, so he has to figure something out.
As Robin paddles closer into the topmost corner and jams his nose right up into it, breaths coming hard and rough and echoing through the tranquility of the water, Kaldur wonders loosely if he can maybe do perpetual CPR from the oxygen he gets through his gills. He doesn’t know if that works. He doesn’t think so - Aquaman has never mentioned such a skill or its successful execution.
This can’t be it, Kaldur’s thoughts are turning frantic and he drives an angry fist into the floor. It does no damage and Robin takes a deep final breath as the water claims the whole entire tank.
Kaldur claws at the holes - only his pinky finger can slip into the circular space, but at least the equilibrium of pressure doesn’t force his fingers out instantly. There’s no more pumping water into the container, just sitting water waiting for Robin to die. He’s not going to let that happen though, even if he has to try and make gill-to-lung oxygen transfer work for the first time ever, he will do everything in his power -
He swims up to Robin and without any preamble (they don’t have any time left - !) pushes him down towards the bottom. Robin’s fingers should fit, and with no more pressure problems he might be able to figure something out that Kaldur’s just overlooking, not seeing. They return to the bottom and Robin stares, analyzing, before slipping his fingers in and out of the circular spaces experimentally. He grabs hold and yanks and yanks, but nothing happens.
Kaldur stares at Robin’s revealed eyes, naked and blue and piercing without the normal mask in place and that’s half of what’s so unnerving about the younger boy’s expression, it’s so personal. But also Robin’s got that cheeky smile on his face, like he knows some secret and won’t share. It’s got hints of resignation and backwards humor in it and Kaldur doesn’t like it at all.
But Robin keeps smiling. He scans over the whole tank from where he’s sitting on his haunches before shaking his head slowly. His eyes flutter closed, but within the half of a second this takes they’re opening and furiously scanning once more. He’s almost out of breath. Even with the rigorous underwater training he’s sure to have undergone, three minutes is pushing it.
Kaldur thinks of supernovas and apocalypses and Robin suffocating under this water where he on the other hand is so at home, so comfortable, and can’t believe in it. There has to be a way out of this. In the meantime Kaldur refuses to wait and watch. He is leader. There are just so many things he’s willing to sacrifice for the team, to prevent this impossibility from happening.
Robin grabs Kaldur’s arm suddenly, his eyes pleading, his lips parted and then - and then -
Robin is drowning, clinging to Kaldur (or was it he the who reached out to grab Robin?) and drowning, tiny bubbles streaming from his mouth as his lungs force an exhale and his whole body tightens - involuntary panic - as they try to inhale air. Between the two of them, Kaldur can feel his diaphragm fluttering as it expands and fills Robin’s lungs with water. He clings more desperately and tries to will oxygen into Robin through contact and determined thought alone. Robin is still tightening, struggling against the water. He tilts Robin’s face towards him and tries CPR, tries to force that oxygen into him, Kaldur tells Robin to breathe - breathe -
It’s not working. This can’t happen. Robin’s movements are becoming steadily wilder and more rigid and Kaldur just keeps trying to breathe a lifeline into him.
And then suddenly Superboy, down here! is superimposing over his thoughts and the familiar intrusion of M’gann reaching out and touching his mind, identifying for sure that he’s him and -
There is a crash and undiluted noise. The two of them tumble along with the new current spilling out of the tank until Kaldur is laying on the floor, wet and shivering, with Robin as still as death next to him. His eyelashes are stuck together with water and his eyes are closed. But that’s okay, now Kaldur can breathe life into him, now this will work.
When he pulls back from the CPR a second time and Robin begins hacking up water and greedily sucking up air, Kaldur spares a look around at his teammates. Wally and M’gann both are pale and sharing uneasy but triumphant glances, while Superboy shakes water out of his hair and brushes shards off his shirt. He’s climbing out of the hole he’s made from catapulting himself through the container wall to break them out and M’gann flies over to help him.
“Dude?” Wally’s voice is tentative. “Rob, you okay?”
Robin slowly sits up and rubs a hand over his eyes wearily before nodding at everyone. “Thanks Kaldur,” he whispers, partially because his vocal cords are tight from violently coughing and partially because the two of them just experienced near-harrowing death together, it takes a lot to recover from that.
Kaldur nearly bursts into what could either be raucous and inappropriate laughter or messy sobs, the burning flower of raw emotions threatening to blossom in his chest is completely unstable. He pulls himself together just in time, though, before he can do either. “The first thing you say is thank you?” He shoots back incredulously, worry translating as something paternal. “What did I - I was unable to do anything. I am just glad you didn’t die.”
Robin nods quietly and his eyelashes still clump together as he closes his eyes with a sigh. Kaldur fights the urge to take Robin’s face in his hands and trace every contour that screams that he is still alive. He only allows himself to grab Robin’s hand and squeeze and remember the futility in how these hands pulled at the grate to no avail. Remembers, really, how close it all was.
“Thank you,” Kaldur finally says, “For not giving up too soon.”
And Robin just laughs, like there was no other way. Didn’t know I had a choice, he normally would joke, but his shortness of breath and wet bangs in his eyes are too close a reminder that no, no he really didn’t.