Prompt Post - Part Six [CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS]
THIS PART IS NOW CLOSED. YOU CAN CONTINUE POSTING FILLS, BUT PLEASE PROMPT ALL NEW THINGS HERE.
I am so sorry for the delay, guys. Life has been hectic lately (exams, haha) and I lost track.
Part one here!
Part two here!
Part three here!
Part four here!
Part five here!
Feel free to reprompt posts from parts one, two, three or four in part five once. If ( Read more... )
“How is this?”
“Hearing you loud and clear,” Robin thinks.
“Good work, Megan,” Aqualad projects. “Will the others be able to join in after the tasks you ordered are completed?”
“I think I can handle it. I'm sorry this is so hard. I should be better than this.”
“I said you're doing well, Megan. Do not doubt me,” Aqualad orders. “We are all learning as fast as we can. You have nothing to blame yourself for.”
M'gann sends the two boys her feeling of thanks.
The Martian, a minute later, links up the rest of the team after they return to the building ready for action. Each teen, communicating their actions over the mind-link, goes off to work in a different wing of the hotel.
“Bossman, is it just me or is this fire suspicious?” Kid Flash asks.
“I agree it has the markings of an arson, KF,” Aqualad replies.
“It's more than that. It's a coverup,” Robin claims.
“Explain.” Aqualad and the rest of the team feel the word instead of simply broadcasting it.
“Superboy says that the police are uneasy about an ambassador who was staying in this hotel. He hasn't been found yet,” Robin worries.
“He was the target and the rest of the fire is a distraction,” Artemis infers. "What country is he an ambassador for? We could link the arsonist to this attack if we know why this ambassador was targeted.”
“Romania.” Robin scrolls down the list of information projected from his wrist. “Ambassador Alexandru Dalca has been trying to uproot loopholes in the international Romanian banking system which criminals are most likely using to hide their money in the country.”
“Miss Martian, can you find the ambassador?” Aqualad asks.
“I can look for the feelings he would be projecting if he knows he's the target. I will have to drop the telepathic link between us for a while.”
As each of her teammates send her a sense of understanding, she releases their minds from her link. Only Robin remains connected. M'gann feels his mind wander.
“Look for the mind thinking in Romani,” Robin says. “It will be easier to find his mind when he's different than other guests,” he reasons.
“I do not know what Romani is,” Miss Martian admits.
“Romani is Dalca's first language. I can translate for you. If I stay linked would I be able to help you find his mind?”
“Yes. That would work.”
Miss Martian sends out a tendril to the minds still lost within the fire and, with Robin's help, finds the mind speaking in the foreign tongue. Robin latches on to the ambassador's mind immediately even though they only pass it briefly in their telepathic sweep. Robin's mind unwillingly lets out a memory as he is overcome by emotion.
High above the ground, you dare to look down. There is no net to catch you if you fall. You can name this familiar sensation. It can only be called exhilaration. Your small hands grasp firmly around the bar of a trapeze as your tiny body lunches forward into the open air. Two feet leave their anchoring atop the metal platform and take flight. Who says man wasn't made to fly? Letting go of your worries, you seize the power found in proving the uninspired bores wrong.
The memory drops away sharply as Robin throws up a mental barrier. M'gann's body pumps with adrenaline from Robin's misplaced memory, but she doesn't comment. She ignores the accidental release. Feeling Robin's worry, she send him back a memory of her own.
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Robin's mind attempts to jerk away from this feeling of loneliness. A bursting of emotion swells behind the surface of his mind and he pushes it down hard. M'gann is left with the impression that Robin has experienced the feeling of solitude vividly in his own life. This isn't what Megan was trying to accomplish. She moves to the part of the memory she initially wanted to share.
Your parents forgive you for your carelessness. They know how it was growing up. They send you their memories of similar experiences when they first disconnected from their own parents. You are gladdened that they understand you. You are not alone. You are all joined together by common experiences.
Robin's mind is loosely connected to Megan's. He holds himself beneath his mental barrier like a child concealed beneath his blanket as he pretends that the monsters in his closet will not find him if he hides.
You dare to let go of your parent’s support once more, knowing they will be there to catch you if you fall into loneliness again. The separation is still new and terrifying, but it is also freeing. You need to be away from the nosy inquires of your parents in order to go through with this. You want it so badly.
You let go of them fully and then let go of the red soil underneath your uncovered toes. You float silently into the air. You feel the probing tendrils of your parents' alarm. They attempt to order you to stop, but you block out their thoughts.
You lift off and shoot into the hazy horizon. You throw your hands into the air and stretch, reaching for the clouds in the sky. Nothing holds you down. You are free. You are living. You bask in the glow of the midday sun. You can name this familiar sensation. It can only be called exhilaration. You were made to fly!
Robin forgives you as he recognizes this is the emotion you wanted to share with him. He sees the point. He crawls out from under his security blanket and finds that the monster is only a baggy sweater hanging lopsided atop a pile of dirty laundry. His mind rolls around in the feeling of true weightlessness and smiles. He composes himself and returns to his mission.
“We should go get Mr. Dalca. Let's find his mind again. I'm ready,” Robin reassures.
Miss Martian sends him her agreement. She scans for the mind she meet with moments ago. She doesn't find it.
“Robin, I'm worried he's...”
“No. Keep looking,” he barks.
They search for Ambassador Dalca for far too long without finding him.
”He could be knocked out. We should go look and see if any paramedics have him,” M'gann says.
Robin agrees resignedly. He clings to the hope that the ambassador is still alive.
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Robin's mouth is dry. Miss Martian sets him down among the crowd of people. Robin doesn't notice that the rest of the team is also in the crowd. The nurse holding the little girl who Superboy saved earlier is covered in tears and snot. The girl wails, a stream of muffled words falling from her chapped lips.
Robin evaluates the scene. The little girl is family to the deceased. She is an eyewitness to the death. Mr. Dalca is the body. He jumped from the building. Robin eyes the mechanical device that the cop in charge inspects. Commissioner Gordon feels the gaze upon him. He hands the device to Robin without a word.
It's a holographic chip. Mr. Dalca would have seen the image of a hero offering a hand to fly him out the window to safety. The hero was never there. The Romanian ambassador fell seven stories and died before he hit the pavement.
Robin's breathing heavies. His minimal patches of skin open to view are noticeably pale. His ice blue eyes bore into the little girl, Mr. Dalca's daughter. He wants to reach out to her but cannot find the sense to move.
M'gann feels the powerful failing of his concentration and, painfully, feels the moment his mind lurches and betrays him. His mind screams. A memory forces its way into M'gann's mind.
Be free. You can do anything if you put your mind to it. Be proud. You are one of the lucky few who know what it is to truly live. Be sure. You trust the other aerialist swinging towards you. Be understood. We are free together, both knowing this special secret of life and relishing in it. Be loved. Your father and mother smile to you and to each other.
Strains of red hair loosen out from a pony tail in the gust created by your mother's swinging. You let go of your bar. You are falling. You could die. You are living. This is living. You laugh. Her hands take yours as you knew they would and soon you are returned to the high platform on the other side of the vast tent.
Your parents begin their next trick as partners. They use a new trapeze with a longer bar and brighter colors. You picked out the robin red rhinestones that dangle from twin lanyards on each side of the bar.
You do not see it in slow motion. It happens in the bashing of an eyelash. You had looked to the crowd momentarily and blinked at the bright lights suddenly flashing in your eyes. You returned your gaze just in time to see the fall.
Your father's finger bristle against your mother. She tries to catch him but she is falling now too. The trapeze has given way to sabotage. Their bodies twist frantically. As they fall, they reach for the nothing that is there to save them. Do they wonder what the ground will feel like when they hit it? What a pointless last thought. They die in the air, the descent killing them before the impact of the fall. Each body snaps against the decals of a roaring lion pride emblazoned on the concrete stage ring.
The image of lion fangs are covered in the fresh blood of your parents. Some child in the audience notices the black humor and snorts in a knee jerk reaction. Your eyes were frozen until then. Now, they flash towards the reckless child.
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His eyes are coal black. You want to be enveloped by the darkness. You want to feel like you are living. Your wings have been clipped. You cannot fly. You cannot live. You wish you were dead.
You cry, not caring that your painful wails unbalance you on your high perch. The man with the coal black eyes understands your suffering. He discards the long coat that would only get in his way and rolls up his sleeves. He climbs the long ladder and pulls himself to the top of your robin's nest. He holds you close as he brings you back to the ground.
He pushes your red face into his shoulder, hiding you from seeing the up close sight of your parents bodies strewn in unnatural positions across the floor. They were flexible, but not that flexible.
The hugging man tells you that his name is Bruce. You rub your tears into his breast and don't care what your snot stains.
Bruce may protect you from seeing their misshapen bodies up close, but he cannot keep you from smelling their blood.
You are alone. Your soul is shattered. You cannot repair the pieces. They are not coming to catch you as you fall into solitude and despair.
As Miss Martian drowns in Robin's suffering, the rest of Young Justice gather together from different corners of the crowd.
“Megan, what is wrong?” Aqualad remains calm despite the evident pain of his teammate. Her legs are weak. Superboy offers an arm for her to lean against. She shakes her head and motions with her eyes to Robin. The team follows her gaze and notices Robin's state.
Before, they thought he was deep in concentration, focusing on the mechanics of the holographic device. Now, they see his turmoil. He is broken. Kid Flash zooms off to Robin's side before anyone can react. Superboy, Aqualad, and Artemis turn to Miss Martian for answers.
“He's in pain...mentally. I...it hurts me...the intensity of his emotions...he is shouting in his mind,” M'gann explains.
“Can you tell the source of his pain?” Aqualad asks.
Megan pauses. She can tell the source of his pain; she sees the memories as if she is reliving them. She remembers the way Robin's mind fled into hiding when he first let out a memory by accident....the way he didn't want her to see him weak.
“No. Aqualad, I'm sorry, but I have no idea why he is in so much pain. He's a mystery,” she says with conviction.
She floats into the sky and watches the dying embers of the fire. As she flies herself out of mental range with Robin, she finds one last outpouring of emotion from his mind.
“Powerlessness,” she names the emotion to the empty horizon and draws her booted feet close to her chest.
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Their dispute drones on in Superboy's ears. Artemis' voice is sharp and penetrating while Kaldur's is smooth and distinct. Artemis turns to Superboy as he fights off the vertigo from their mismatched tones.
"What is your take on this?" she asks with one hand atop her hip and the other pointed towards Robin.
The wind nips at his ears but Superboy doesn't feel the cold. He can't feel anything so simple. His powers make that near impossible.
His cool blue eyes fall on Robin. Superboy sees him tremble. Superboy guesses that the other boy's involuntary shivers are not from the cold.
"I...I don't know," Conner lets out wearily. He brushes a hand over the tip of his ear as if it is frostbitten. He watches the redheaded boy yards away speak in hushed whispers to their youngest team member.
Artemis resignedly gives up on convincing Conner to choose a side. She exhales deeply and returns to arguing with the team leader while Conner's attention stays focused on Robin.
Superboy doesn't mean to stare but his gaze is drawn to the small form of his friend as he pushes away the attentions of his other teammate.
Wally tries to hold Robin together by holding him close. The smaller boy's squirming turns into frustrated tossing and, finally, hopeless pounding against the bright yellow and red insignia on Wally's chest.
Superboy doesn't mean to listen in but his ears are drawn to the raw voice of his friend.
"I'm fine," Robin insists. "I don't need your help."
Conner's gut twinges with inner turmoil. He has said those very words himself before, in some of his worst moments. Conner knows a lie when he hears one. Robin needs help.
Conner wants to help more than anything else in the world. He wants to disprove the scientists who created him as a living weapon.
He wants to walk out from underneath the shadow of his...genetic donor. He needs to have a purpose. He needs to help his friends.
Superboy doesn't look away from Robin.
Conner hears the sharp breaths of M'gann from her distant position in the sky she brings her body into a tight ball. Superboy draws his hands into fists in order to feel the power within him. Is it within his power to help his friends now?
His power? No. These are Superman's powers. Conner is just an imperfect recreation.
The citizens of the world stop and shout with waves and smiles whenever Superman flies by.
"God, I wish I could be like him," they think as they look to their hero. "I wish I could do the things he can do."
Meanwhile, Superboy is stopped every other day by a frowning civilian who pauses within the flames of the fire that might consume them both to ask the same two questions.
"Why can't you use all of his powers to save me?" the civilian asks. "Don't you wish you could do the things he does?"
The majority of those who never ask him such questions are unconscious.
Superboy never responds. He acts like a proper hero and doesn't lash out at their barbed tongues. He cannot and will not show how the words he hears sting. He will keep his ears pried open to the world around him even through the pain.
Conner knows that these awestruck crowds who follow Superman simply do not understand. No one can understand what it feels like to have Superman's powers beside Conner and Superman himself. Every hero worshiper just doesn't see the truth, too blinded by their dreams of escaping the twin demons of uncertainty and powerlessness.
Many people make the assumption that Superboy wishes he had more of the abilities of the man he was created in the image of.
On the bad days, Superboy desperately wants to have those powers. Superboy, on worse days, finds that this assumption is wrong.
It only took Superboy his first few clearheaded moments to realize that his extra-normal abilities may be more of a burden than they're worth. He easily noticed that his powers, instead of solving his problems, only intensified them.
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Why do so many people who are so strong break so easily under his grasp?
Conner fears harming those he cares for and even those he doesn't know. One false move is all it takes; one misjudgment of power and suddenly he will have proved right Cadmus, Superman, and everyone else who fears his stolen eyes and face and body.
"Superboy is the weaker one," they say. "He is here for destruction. Superboy is worthless. He belongs no where."
He belongs here with this team of heroes. These heroes are his saviors; without Wally, Kaldur and Robin, he would have never seen the soft beams of a full moon, faced a day without an invaded mind, or made his own life.
These heroes are his friends and family as well as his home. Conner has a need to honor his friends by proving to them that he's worth their time and effort. This desire is what he relies on for the strength to face each day while the moon returns to fill up the cracks in his heart so that he can face each night.
No one can fathom the way Conner detests his microscopic-vision. He sees the slight twitch of a smile lacking sincerity. He notices the hidden and discolored bruises beneath a teammate's makeup. He finds the lack of visual hesitation when a man turns away, unable to stand the sight of him.
No one can relate to how Conner hates his super-hearing. He hates screams that rip from a throat before a body succumbs to its burns. He hates the chink and gurgle of a bullet as it ruptures a major artery. He hates the sobs of a friend who doesn't know anyone can hear him after he hides his tear-stained face beneath a pile of pillows.
Superboy clearly sees the pain that ransacks his youngest friend. He sees Wally's confused expression as he tries to comfort the boy.
He hears his friend's words.
"Just leave me alone! I'm not the one hurting here," Robin says in a small voice, his words muffled into Wally's side.
"I don't understand a word you're saying, Rob. You have to calm down and try to think clearly."
Wally plays with Robin's raven hair.
"I really want to help," Wally whispers as he lightly pulls Robin's face from his lap, "but I can't do that when I don't understand what you're saying..."
Robin pushes away from Wally and wipes at the wetness around his eyes. He leaves behind tracks of long forgotten soot from his gloves as he does so.
"I just need," Robin takes another few steps away from his friend, "to be the hero here. I don't need your help. She needs mine."
Wally's eyes flash desperately. He shares the same need to help his friend as Conner.
"I still don't understand, Rob," Wally pleads.
"I fight my own battles," Robin grinds out. He looks down to his hands and finds two small fists.
Robin violently tugs off the dirty gloves. A finger gets caught by a clasp on his utility belt. Robin stands rigid as Wally grabs his hands and unhooks the fabric.
He tosses the gloves haphazardly to Kid Flash and rushes off.
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"Excuse me," he mutters. He comes to a stop as he realizes who he has bumped into.
"Pardon?" Gordon says with a frown.
"I'm sorry," Robin apologizes again. The commissioner finds the holographic device in his hands before the boy runs off again.
"What?" Gordon calls out once more to the caped boy.
The hero doesn't reply; he refuses to lose his resolve even for Commissioner Gordon, his loyal friend.
When Robin stops before the ambulance where Mr. Dalca's orphaned daughter is, Conner knows he should stop looking. He should give his teammate, his friend who trusts him, some privacy...some alone time.
Conner is never alone with his vision and his hearing. He can only block out so much of what's around him. Right now he doesn't want to ignore what he sees and hears. He wants to help.
How can he help someone so strong without even knowing the cause of his pain?
Conner sees the shifting of Robin's expression. He sees the signs of hesitancy, those invisible tremors or spasms or flinches, as Robin attempts to compose himself.
There is a strong, dark hand grasping onto Superboy's shoulder. Conner feels the pressure as the hand squeezes in a gesture of reassurance. He follows the hand lengthwise until he meets the eyes of its owner. Kaldur squeezes once more before removing his hand.
"Superboy? Is there something wrong?" the leader asks. "Do you know what Robin is saying?"
Conner realizes then why no one but him can understand the pain in Robin's words.
"Did the Genomorphs teach you Romani?" Kid Flash questions, having rejoined the group after Robin left him.
With super-hearing, he focuses on Robin's unsteady heart as it beats closely in time to the grieving girl who has lost her father. He wants to help.
Superboy fights his own battles. He manages. He grows stronger.
Who would Robin be if he was even stronger?
Conner turns to his teammates.
"I do not understand Romani," Conner states firmly. He folds his arms across his S-shield and stares evenly into each team member's eyes.
He finds Robin's gaze at last. Robin's eyes are two twin blue pools full of red strains and clear, salty droplets.
Conner knows that the hero worshipers are wrong; when it comes to the real problems, the ones that truly matter, he is just as powerless as anyone else.
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--
Small and quiet whispers breeze through Robin’s mind as he flips the holographic device in his gloved fingers. He isn’t glaring at it really. He should be glowering at it, rightly so, since this is the murder weapon of that man…the tool that stole a father from his daughter, but he isn’t. He doesn’t have the focus to realize what is in his hands.
Dick is alone in his mind. He has blocked everything else out.
He has blocked out the burning eyes of Conner as he watches him closely. He has purposefully ignored the quick glances from Commissioner Gordon in between mad dashes around the crime scene. Most of all, he pretends the little girl doesn’t exist.
Robin, if he were to hide in his mind, wouldn’t have to turn around and face the truth. It’s his fault. There’s no way around it this time. He’s older…not a circus brat….he’s trained….not a civilian….he’s a hero…not a victim. He should fight his own battles. He should fight for those that cannot fight for themselves. He should have been her hero. He should have stopped this all from happening.
He hears her even though he has tried to banish her into nonexistence, the calming breathing kanta Bruce has taught him proving useless for the first time. The little girl is crying. A different paramedic is holding her, although perhaps less closely as he is weary of the snot that covers the girl’s first caretaker’s jacket.
An icy chuckle flows through Dick’s body. He suppresses the involuntary shaking as Conner’s sad eyes still focus on his body. Dick can stop the trembling if he tries but he cannot block the thought which caused his pain in the first place: Snot? How can anyone be worried about snot when there’s so much blood so close?
He smells the red puddle even though he’s kept his distance. Bruce couldn’t stop Dick from seeing this and smelling this. Robin should have known that preventing these tragedies is impossible.
If Bruce, amazing, courageous and emphatic Bruce, could not stop Dick’s parents from falling to their death, couldn’t chase their ghosts out of his ward’s mind, couldn’t make pools of blood smell like roses, then why would Robin have a chance. How can Robin do the impossible for this little girl?
Robin knows he must look so weak and pathetic right now. Morosely, he wonders if he ever truly looks strong with his silly and cheerful fabric flowing in the wind as he dodges a bullet that would rip apart his petite arms without warning.
Without warning a flush of silly, cheerful fabric pours into Robin’s vision. Kid Flash grabs his friend and squeezes him tight.
“Are you okay, man?” Wally rubs his back as he hugs him. “I’m such an idiot. I should have…I mean…It’s obvious this would upset you and I just didn’t...”
Robin leans into the embrace. His nostrils fill up with the sticky smell of sweat that clings to the speedster’s clothing and skin. A drop of sweat trickles across Wally’s brow. Robin likes this stench.
He figures he likes the smell because sweat means taking action, trying with all your effort, and being able to help. It’s a nice lie. Really, deep down, Robin likes the sweat's smell because it dulls the stench of blood.
He pushes away from Wally’s hug; his twin fists use Wally’s abs as a rebound board. His new distance from his friend cannot be more than half a dozen inches, but it’s still distance and that’s all that matters. Dick isn’t being smothered by pity anymore.
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“I want to help, Rob,” Wally pleads. Robin’s chin is tilted downwards against his chest.
Kid Flash leans his head down and attempts to look into Robin’s hidden eyes. Wally wonders if Robin is crying beneath that mask. He could cry all he wanted and his friends would never know…
Wally grabs Robin by the wrist and pulls him back into a hug. Robin squirms in his arms and attempts to worm away but the older boy has speed on his side. Robin cannot make a movement to flee in any thing other than slow motion in Wally’s eyes.
Dick hates this. Why is he always the one who without the power to make things better? Wally, brilliant, enthusiastic and hopeful Wally, made himself powerful. He thought about what he wanted and then he went for it; that’s why Wally is the one holding Dick together in case he cracks like the piece of glass that he is.
Robin tries to toss Kid Flash’s arms off of him, but Wally only hushes him and returns his arms around his friend. Dick wants to laugh at himself again. He pounds his hands helplessly against Wally’s chest.
Maybe if he hits him hard enough Wally will feel the pain which Dick feels from having to be comforted. He hopes that if he beats harder on his friend’s body, then that physical pain will translate every emotion he is feeling mentally to Wally.
Robin might give in now. He might pretend he doesn’t care about what other people think or about responsibility but he was raised too well for such denial. His parents…his Bruce…his Alfred….his Wally and his Conner and his Kaldur and his Artemis and Megan and Roy…they expect more from him. And most importantly, he expects more from himself.
"I'm fine," Robin insists. His voice is raspy and he winces as he hears it. He forces out his words anyways. "I don't need your help,” he tells Wally as well as Conner who he knows is listening in.
The redhead searches the smaller boy’s eyes. He wets his lips and worries. He doesn’t know if Dick is muttering in Romani to hurt him, to show that Wally could never understand what he is feeling, or if maybe this means something worse. Maybe Dick is really just that broken.
"Just leave me alone! I'm not the one hurting here," Robin whispers as Wally embraces him.
Wally wants to help. Wally know that nobody can help unless he gets Dick speaks his thoughts plainly. Wally wishes he didn’t have to break this to his friend. Robin, when he learns he is speaking in his mother tongue by accident, will be embarrassed. Wally holds him closer and hopes he won’t hide when he explains his problem.
"I don't understand a word you're saying, Rob. You have to calm down and try to think clearly." KF brushes his fingers through Dick’s sweaty hair. "I really want to help but,” he unearths Robin’s face from his lap, “I can't do that when I don't understand what you're saying..."
Wally stresses the words ‘understand’ and ‘saying’ so that they ring in the hollow caverns of Dick’s mind.
He hears what those words really mean and that scares him. He’s afraid to talk. What will keep his next words from being so vulnerable and raw? What will stop him from using the speech which he calls his parents and not his own, having divorced himself from it in an attempt to forget the pain?
Dick doesn’t care when Wally gasps as he pushes away from him. He doesn’t care that his eyes water more as he wipes his dirty gloves across his lids.
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Robin doesn’t know if his words are the right ones. If he is explaining properly or even in English, but he needs to say this all out loud. He needs to know he can admit the truth to himself and the world as long as all ears are open to hear.
“I don't need your help,” Dick explains. He turns his head to face the little girl who sits in the medic’s lap across the lot. “She needs mine."
Kid Flash doesn’t follow Robin’s eyes to the little girl. He is left confused and worried as he listens to Robin’s foreign words. Wally doesn’t know if he can help his best friend so he begins to beg him to help him understand.
"I fight my own battles," Robin replies slowly and forcefully to the other teen’s concerns.
Robin looks to the fists which he used to beat against Wally’s chest. He pulls off the dirty gloves but they get stuck on the clasp that wraps the broken holo-device to his belt.
He had forgotten that the murder weapon was still on his person. How could he forget something like that? What kind of hero is he?
His body stiffens as he holds in his self-loathing. He lets Wally unfasten his caught gloves without argument. Once Kid Flash has the gloves in his hands, Dick swirls on his boot and rushes away.
He isn’t escaping his fears. He isn’t fleeing his friend. He isn’t running away from himself. He is heading towards the only person that can make him matter anymore. He is looking for the little girl. He will give her hope.
Lost in his thoughts, Robin clips Commissioner Gordon as he passes by.
"Excuse me," he mutters. He stops. The holo-device is still attached to his belt. He unclips it and holds it in his small, bare palms. It’s evidence and he’s holding it without gloves. He quickly panics and tosses it into Gordon’s hand.
"Pardon?" Gordon says to the hero. Robin realizes he isn’t speaking English but he doesn’t have time to sort that out. He’s needed somewhere else. Someone else needs him.
"I'm sorry," Robin apologizes again. The commissioner finds the holographic device in his hands before the boy runs off again.
Robin vaguely hears the commissioner call out to him as he runs off. He doesn’t slow his sprint. He’s waited long enough.
Robin stops before the ambulance where Mr. Dalca's orphaned daughter is and starts a breathing kanta.
His last thought before he opens his raw throat to comfort her and his shaking arms to embrace her is: I can help her now; at the very least, I must have the power to do that.
“Du’ dera,” he whispers as he holds her tight, “I’m so sorry, so very sorry.”
Dick doesn’t care that he starts crying before her.
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I've been really busy and I'm always juggling a bunch of stories even when I'm not busy.
I plan on buckling down and working on a bunch of things on the weekend. :)
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Robin's mind attempts to jerk away from this feeling of loneliness. A bursting of emotion swells behind the surface of his mind and he pushes it down hard. M'gann is left with the impression that Robin has experienced the feeling of solitude vividly in his own life. This isn't what Megan was trying to accomplish. She moves to the part of the memory she initially wanted to share.
Your parents forgive you for your carelessness. They know how it was growing up. They send you their memories of similar experiences when they first disconnected from their own parents. You are gladdened that they understand you. You are not alone. You are all joined together by common experiences.
Robin's mind is loosely connected to Megan's. He holds himself beneath his mental barrier like a child concealed beneath his blanket as he pretends that the monsters in his closet will not find him if he hides.
You dare to let go of your parent’s support once more, knowing they will be there to catch you if you fall into loneliness again. The separation is still new and terrifying, but it is also freeing. You need to be away from the nosy inquires of your parents in order to go through with this. You want it so badly.
You let go of them fully and then let go of the red soil underneath your uncovered toes. You float silently into the air. You feel the probing tendrils of your parents' alarm. They attempt to order you to stop, but you block out their thoughts.
You lift off and shoot into the hazy horizon. You throw your hands into the air and stretch, reaching for the clouds in the sky. Nothing holds you down. You are free. You are living. You bask in the glow of the midday sun. You can name this familiar sensation. It can only be called exhilaration. You were made to fly!
Robin forgives you as he recognizes this is the emotion you wanted to share with him. He sees the point. He crawls out from under his security blanket and finds that the monster is only a baggy sweater hanging lopsided atop a pile of dirty laundry. His mind rolls around in the feeling of true weightlessness and smiles. He composes himself and returns to his mission.
“We should go get Mr. Dalca. Let's find his mind again. I'm ready,” Robin reassures.
Miss Martian sends him her agreement. She scans for the mind she meet with moments ago. She doesn't find it.
“Robin, I'm worried he's...”
“No. Keep looking,” he barks.
They search for Ambassador Dalca for far too long without finding him.
”He could be knocked out. We should go look and see if any paramedics have him,” M'gann says.
Robin agrees resignedly. He clings to the hope that the ambassador is still alive.
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