Mourn me - come on Bats - show us your true ~feeeelingss~~
He'd only looked away for a second, but a second was all it took.
Bruce always thought that perhaps this was the way he'd go; bleeding out in a dirty alley in the city. For the rest of the Justice League it was massive explosions, killer robots, weapons fueled by green rocks. Nothing less than spectacular would take down the superpowered members of the league.
For Ollie, it was a scared kid with a gun.
Bruce pressed his hand harder against the gunshot wound, as if by some miracle keeping pressure on it would undo the damage it had wrought. He knew they'd have to move soon, but he hadn't yet managed the strength to get up from the ground where he was kneeling with Oliver's limp body in his arms.
Painfully, he was reminded of another alley.
Another night of kneeling with people he loved as their lives left them, wishing more than anything that it was all a bad dream. But it never was.
Vaguely, he heard his league communicator beeping in his ear. He ignored it.
There would be time for the rest of them, time to explain what happened, time to pretend that Dinah's heartbroken face didn't tear him to pieces. For now, it was just Bruce alone with one of his best friends, because that's they were. For all of Ollie's antics, he was the one person on the League Bruce could really connect with. Clark, J'onn, Diana, the rest of them, they all had powers and abilities. Batman and Green Arrow were just mortal men with gadgets.
He wondered if Star City would honor their fallen hero, if they'd even notice he was gone. No doubt Red Arrow and Artemis would step up to fill the empty space Ollie left.
Roy. Another person he wasn't eager to bring the news to, but it had to be him. He owed it to them, to Roy, Artemis, and Dinah. To tell them that it was his own negligence that brought this upon them.
He focused on Ollie's face, the skin that was already cooling, the eyes that he had shut himself so that he wouldn't have to see the glassy stare of the dead.
He still couldn't move, the shock and grief sapping his strength so all he could do was sit and give in to the same darkness he'd felt when he was eight.
