Archive of Our Own ^beta

The battlefield was all dust and wind. Slabs of concrete lay pancake-ed on top of each other, and steel struts jutted out between piles like silvery stalagmites. The sky they pierced into was the fragile yellow of the calm in the middle of a storm, but a crackling fire blazed somewhere below.

Tim could hear himself panting as sweat gathered on his brow, the effects of the hours of fighting finally taking its toll. His mouth felt dry as his vision faded in and out, forcing him to bend his knees more for balance. Meanwhile, his hands were beginning to feel slippery as he firmly held his bō in front of him - he mentally thanked Alfred for the grips on his gloves.

Tim could hear the sounds of his friends fighting somewhere beyond the dust. He could just about make out Cassie shouting orders and the doppler effect in the wake of Bart. He briefly wondered why they weren't communicating on comms, but upon pressing the little button on his own, he realised the lines must be down.

It crossed Tim's mind that he should probably help them, but his feet felt like Poison Ivy's plants had rooted him to the floor.

A voice became clear just beyond a pile of concrete and shattered glass.

"Rob! Over here!"

It's wheezy and rough. Tim knows the owner is struggling to breathe, but he can't make sense of it. Why would he be weak when the sun is out above them, turning the dust a hazy gold, like desert sand? He should be okay.

Tim shifted his feet and tightened his grip on his staff. The metal felt cool through his gloves, sending goosebumps up his arms and back.

"Superboy?" Tim internally winced. He also sounded breathless. The taste of iron and rocksalt spread across his tongue, irritating his throat; the iron got stronger as he coughed.

His lungs began to ache as Tim tried to shift his feet again. They wouldn't move. One glance down, his boots looked free, but it still felt like they were rooted to the ground.

"Rob! Wonder boy! A little help over here?"

Tim snapped his head back up. It didn't matter how rooted his feet felt; he just needed to move. He narrowed his eyes at his feet before reaching down to drag his feet manually.

"I'm coming! I promise!"

Tim's heart was in his throat as he lifted each foot step by step. It was like he was wearing concrete shoes in a silo, dragging him down and choking him as he scrambled towards the voice - Conner's voice. His feet even sounded like breezeblocks as he scraped them across the dirt.

"Superboy?" As Tim passed the pile of rubble he thought the voice was coming from, he started to search the floor, craning his neck to see if Kon might be beyond the heaps in front of him when he found nothing. "Kon?"

"Rob!"

Tim's heart sank as the voice echoed from beyond the mist, bouncing strangely off the rubble. He let his last step drop, rolling his shoulders as he straightened up. Turns out concrete shoes are heavy, even when they're invisible.

Behind him, the vague shouting and clashing of metal started to die off bit by bit, even Bart's zooming quieting to a mosquito's whine. Tim closed his eyes, letting tears well up and drip into his domino mask as he basked in the silence. A layer of calm, the kind that sits straight after an overload, rushed over his chest. It was like he'd finally wiggled his toes like Babs occasionally suggested when they were both on tech duty, and his shoulders had dropped.

Tim subconsciously shuffled his feet. Then froze. He looked down at his boots and kicked one of his feet against the ground, throwing up a small plume of orange dust which settled over his black boots. Momentarily he wondered if they should be green, but he shook his head quickly. Now that he could move, there was no time to question reality.

"Robin! Dude!" Conner's voice echoed again, just beyond Tim's view.

One step. Two steps. Three four-five. Tim's boots scuffed on the ground until he was running toward Kon's voice, mentally crossing his fingers that he wouldn't run into concrete as he blindly threw himself into the mist.

As he ran, the wind powdered Tim in dust, rushing towards his face like horizontal rain. He skidded a few times to avoid sudden slabs of wall or floor, holding his arms out to steady himself, but it wasn't long until he could see a silhouette. A dark brown figure that slowly began to colour in red and black as he got closer.

Tim tried to speed up, reaching his hand out, but suddenly the silhouette started to get farther away again. Then, finally, the red and black faded back to brown and into the monochromatic orange.

Tim kept trying to run, his legs getting weaker and weaker under him, but the road was a treadmill. It was all he could do to stay upright as he started to stumble.

Then Tim's cloak finally tore at his legs, tripping him face-first and leaving the road to stretch far away, taking Kon with it.

Cold. It was colder here than it was above ground. Tim could feel his skin prickling up in goosebumps as a draft circulated, scraping against the hard surface of whatever he was lying on. It was definitely a cave. Wherever 'here' was. Although, maybe Hell had frozen over, and he was dead.

At this point, Tim wasn't sure he should be alive if he was. Even if he survived the blood loss, there was no way that sword missed an organ. A hot-cold sharp pain was going through his upper abdomen, and his head felt like he'd been thrown off of Fido again. Would he still feel those if he was dead?

Tim finally blearily blinked open his eyes. A blur of warm yellow-orange watercolour slowly focused into a dimly lit cavern doming above him. For a moment, it looked familiar - like the cave with the paintings (and proof that Batman was alive) - then it was just another sandstone cavern.

Tim pushed himself up a little, continuing to let his vision adjust. He regretted it near immediately as he watched a black blur clarify into a ninja - and looking around, they weren't the only one nearby.

Tim regretted it even more when he craned his neck towards a pit near the centre of the room. He felt like he'd been dowsed in ice water and lava simultaneously. A Lazarus Pit sat glowing, green, and bubbling like a hot spring.

One thought dominated Tim's mind. Oh God.