Wings of the Knight Ch. Seven - YJ

  Chapter Seven:
  
   The memories hurt. They burned her heart and her mind, just as if they were her own. She felt the pain, the love, the heartbreak, the joy, the agony... it tingled through her body—through her soul—not losing any of its potency even with her second pass. Every tragic flash cut her deeply, while each blurred smile mended the wounds. It was all so much... and it held more than she had ever before experienced in her too-long, too-pain-filled existence. More emotion, more passion, more life. And it confused her, saddened her, excited her, made her yearn simply to understand why. He was so familiar—so similar—and yet he wasn't the same. As the broken, frayed threads of some other world wove themselves together before her eyes, she stared, stricken, not understanding as tears trailed their way, unbidden, down her viridian cheeks.
  
   Why, Uncle? What do I do? How can I even... It's really him, isn't it? It's really Robin? Her telepathic questions were muddled by her inner turmoil, no one clear thought permeating the other Martian's advanced psyche. The images flowing between them faded, leaving the two foreigners alone in the suddenly too-dark, too-quiet metal-plated room.
  
   Only he can answer that, M'gann, and—even then—we may not ever know the truth. Martian Manhunter placed a hand on his young niece's trembling shoulder, and immediately she flew to him, wrapping her small arms around his torso and catching the elder being off-guard. Though he had learned to integrate himself within human society, such open, physical displays of affection were rarely felt, and, as his race was based on a largely a-physical, other-level plane of existence, similar actions were quite unheard-of back on their home planet. Miss Martian buried her dampened face in J'onn's bio-generated costume, sure of nothing else in that moment save the fact that she needed comfort.
  
   But what do I do? That doesn't help... I promised I wouldn't tell, Uncle, but no one trusts him... His friends are afraid, and Batman treats him just like any other criminal. Her grip tightened, and J'onn gently slid his arms over her thin back, pulling her closer out of instinct. All in all, they made for a very... human picture likened to a father comforting his daughter. Yes, their relationship had been complicated from the beginning, but there were moments in time—like—that saw past those difficulties and brought them together in the most earthen sense of the word... family.
  
   There is nothing else that can be done, he sighed internally, you have kept your word, and attempted as best you could under the circumstances given to protect his identity. From here, it is his choice to decide where this situation will lead. M'gann nodded softly into his chest, sniffling through the dainty sobs echoing through the empty bed chamber. Glancing at the little mechanical clock blinking resolutely on J'onn's generic night table—a formality present only to give the room some sense of human normalcy—he saw that several hours had passed since the pair had arrived. It was nearly morning on the American surface world, and, soon, the situation would move forward with the sun, unstoppable. Martian Manhunter could only hope that the outcome of any further developments was positive, knowing all the while that events unfolding would prove worse before they resolved themselves. Absently, he began gently stroking M'gann's conjured ginger locks in an attempt to soothe her, unsure of where the action came from but receiving no resistance in return. Slowly, the young girl quieted, and it took several moments to realize that she was slipping into sleep.
  
   Thank you, Uncle. Any response would have been pointless as she was soon lost within the grips of unconsciousness.

  LINEBREAK
  
   The jet ride was uncomfortably quiet, the unnerving quiet broken only by the soft purr of the plane's stealth-made, military-grade engines. Robin glared out toward the orange horizon that shot past with every ticking second, mind filled to the bursting with far too many answerless questions. He refused to look at his father, anger directed not purposely toward him, but to the universe—just... misdirected along the way. Bruce, in turn, gave his son the space needed to adjust to the new developments. Explanations had been hard and long, Clark cutting of communication as soon as the situation became to familial for his liking, and Alfred had retreated upstairs to clean the coffee spill and prepare another batch of the caffeinated drink along with a light breakfast. It had become very clear early on that there would be no more sleep had that night by any member of the Wayne household.
  
   Dick, for his part, was lost amid his racing thoughts, revisiting the same topic yet again—the same fears and worries plaguing him just as they had been for the past few weeks with the added intensity of the recent developments. It had evolved, though—just as anything would when harbored on for long enough. He had known—oh, how he had known—that he would never grow to be the Vengeance and the Night, but, even so, he understood that nothing was set in stone. As he continued to dwell on... everything, however, the obvious and rather frightening question kept presenting itself at the forefront of his mind, refusing to be pushed back to the recesses of his thoughts: Without Batman, what was he, really? Just some limber kid in tights, trying to play God? He had no superpowers, and everything that he had built for himself stemmed from Bruce—no, no, not everything. Yet Bruce provided the anchor that allowed not only others to take him seriously as both a person and a hero, but himself, as well. It was strange to think of himself as only thirteen—such an aged, ancient thirteen-years—and yet the looming confines of his legal and social status as a minor held him back. A scared, wounded child who was so strong and had seen so much, even as he was still so young.
  
   He hoped that he would not have to make any sort of concrete plans for his future any time soon, but he knew that nothing was a guarantee—not health, not survival, not happiness, not peace—in the way of life he had chosen... or any civilian life, either.
  
   And then, of course, some paranoid, violent stranger had to crash—quite literally—into his world, embodying everything that he had sworn against becoming, and screw up the balance.
  
   So entrapped was he in his dark internal musings that Robin failed to register when the Jet slowly descended toward the massive terribly-hidden hanger cut in the side of Mount Justice, only coming to his senses when unexpected—or completely inevitable, depending on his level of concentration regarding the world around him—turbulence rocked the cockpit. Soon, the sleet black vehicle was rolling slowly along the landing strip and entering the familiar caverns of the place that had become his favorite hang-out. A place to relax, to be with his friends, to grasp at some small illusion of normalcy. As they came to a complete stop, the Jet let out a scratchy, mechanic hiss, and the reinforced viewing shield slipped back, allowing the two passengers a chance to exit. Robin did not hop out of his seat immediately, as he normally would, instead opting to let his father's feet hit the ground before he made any sort of move. He was dreading what was sure to come next, and he could only go so far as to delay the inevitable.
  
   Had their footfalls made any sound—the Dynamic Duo thrived in darkness and silence, so there was never a question of heavy combat boots causing echoes even through the most acoustic of settings—they would have sounded empty, lonely, unnerving as they reverberated across the arching caverns and hallways. A promise of foreboding events to come all too soon. There was no laughter chiming from the kitchen, wafting in on the smoke of burned goodies; there was no ever-present, dull television static, casting a near-constant background white noise as life's single-note soundtrack fizzing along from the sitting room; there were no shouts and yells—not out of anger, but friendly, near-sibling rivalry—ringing through the entire cave as the metal air vents carried the sound like the life of a heartbeat to anyone who would listen. It was too dead. Too quiet.
  
   This only proved so sink Robin further into angst, his mood only exacerbating as he and his father passed the medical wing on their way to the monitor room. He was still here, whether it seemed so or not.
  
   As soon as the AI confirmed Batman's identity, a familiar holographic keyboard revealed itself on the main monitor console, and Bruce paused to glance at his son briefly before sending out a message to all of the quarantined mini-Leaguers and their mentors. This was something that he wanted to keep as close to home as possible for the time being, and he requested that only the five remaining members of his covert ops team return to base for the time being. It went unspoken that he would inform the elders of any urgent details as soon as possible, but the situation had come to directly involve only the young heroes at this point—with the notable exception of the Flash. For a moment, Batman debated upon whether or not to ask Barry to retrieve the impersonation—but could it really be called an impersonation any more, he wondered?—Batsuit from the Watchtower, but decided against it... for now. Communications finished and knowing he only had a few minutes to spare before either of the endearingly obnoxious speedsters arrived, Bruce turned to his son, ready to deliver an impressive, reassuring, fatherly-love-filled speech that would quell the small boy's worries and make everything okay.
  
   But when he met Dick's face and gazed into his mask-covered, hidden eyes, he could almost feel the confused, border-line accusing stare boring its way through his own cowl, and he was left speechless. What did one say at a time like this? There was no manual, no guide. And he, honestly, had no idea what his little bird was thinking. It worried him how much Dick kept things inside, hidden; but Black Canary had said he had responded positively to the impromptu therapy sessions, so that was a start, a step. They blinked solemnly at one another in silence.
  
   "Bruce, can I see him?" It was the first thing Dick had spoken in hours, and the words came out quiet. It was a simple request, but there were so many outcomes should he answer in the affirmative.
  
   "It would be best if—" he was not given the opportunity to finish his train of thought, but the answer was clear.
  
   Recognized: Kid Flash, B-03
  
   Recognized: Superboy, B-04
  
   Recognized: Flash, 04
  
   Even before the Zeta Beam AI had finished reciting their names, the Technicolor-clad pair was standing with their Gotham counterparts, followed closely by the Kryptonian boy that had become their temporary charge. Neither duo said anything for a moment, Flash taking in the tense atmosphere hovering around Batman and Robin, and shooting the Dark Knight a concerned look that partially demanded answers. None came.
  
   "So... what's going on?" Wally spoke up after a moment, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot as he picked up on his friend's solemn, worrying demeanor. Something big had happened. Something that was more than likely not good—because that just seemed to be the way things worked out around them.
  
   His words seemed to snap the Dark Knight to attention, and he responded with a brisk, "We have successfully identified..." Batman paused uncharacteristically, which worried the two Central City natives. Bruce, meanwhile, was trying to answer his own unspoken question. Yes, he had given a name to the face, but who did that make the man, really? Was he still a stranger? A threat? "...the man." Before either Wally or Barry could jump in with any more questions, he continued on, "We will await the arrival of the rest of your Team before I begin the debriefing."
  
   The young redhead scowled as his uncle placed a gloved hand on his shoulder, preventing any outbursts. Connor, for his part, kept silent, nodding rigidly in Batman's direction in agreement. He understood the practical advantages of only having to offer explanations once. Seeing that no further information would be passed on to the teenagers, Barry took the initiative, his face suddenly brightening just a little too much. "Hey, Kid—why don't you head into the kitchen and grab a snack, 'kay?" Wally swung around to shoot his uncle an incredulous look. They had just finished breakfast! He wasn't hung—well, he wasn't too hungry. The blonde man gave him a gentle shove toward the other room's general direction. "Take Rob and Supey with you, while you're at it. Connor barely touched his food this morning, and I'm sure Robin hasn't eaten yet." In reality, the young Kryptonian had devoured precisely three pancakes, all stacked and cut into twelve exact, uniform squares. It had been slightly unnerving, but the Wests had grown accustomed enough to strange dietary habits over the years not to question it.
  
   At his mention, Superboy glanced up to protest, "I—" but was silenced by a look from Wally, who caught on to his uncle's intentions. Dick, however, stayed silent, watching the exchange with piqued interest through his brooding fog.
  
   "Yeah, okay, Uncle B," with that, the speedster raced over to grab his best friend's arm and drag him into the culinary haven adjacent, Connor trailing slowly behind. Both adults knew that anything said would be well-heard by the clone, and Barry hoped that would not impede the Dark Knight's responses to his questions.
  
   Even before the teenagers would far away enough for such a superpower to be needed, though, they heard the Scarlet Speedster's exasperated sigh. "Alright, Bats— what happened?"
  
   As soon as they reached the kitchen, Wally made a bee-line for the fridge that Black Canary took care to keep well-stocked. As he rummaged through its contents at top speed, Dick and Connor stood back, one lost in a conversation taking place a wall away and the other too wrapped up in his mind to really be present in the moment. "Hey, Rob," the ginger called, sticking his head around the opened appliance door as soon as he registered the unnerving quiet surrounding his friends. For Superboy, it was expected, but Robin was usually talkative and joking in even the worst of situations. It was worrying. "Are you okay, man?"
  
   The black-haired boy shot him a small smile in return, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking, I guess." Wally wasn't buying it, and he closed the refrigerator door with a hiss, opting instead to grab an apple from the fruit basket on the counter and moving to lean on the counter opposite where his best friend stood.
  
   "You guess? So you're not totally sure?" He cracked a grin in an effort to cheer up the younger boy, but only received a tight-lipped half-upturn in response. "What're you thinking about, then?"
  
   "Oh, you know... stuff." His gaze unconsciously drifted toward the main hall, back down which the medical wing sat, and Wally caught the gesture even through his domino mask. Catching himself—this was something between him, Batman, and... that guy in the other room, not KF—Robin suddenly hopped up, and, as though someone had flipped a switch, shot a mischievous grin toward his best friend. "I wonder what your uncle and Bats are talking about." There was a devious glint to his expression that still had the speedster reeling to catch up with his mood swing, but, when he did, Kid Flash sent a smirk right back. He knew that Robin was simply putting on a face, but chose to go along with it. He had never been one to press, and knew that Dick would open up eventually, on his own time, if he ever did.
  
   "Probably nothing we're allowed to hear."
  
   "It's such a shame, really..." Both boys turned toward Connor, who was still standing off to the side, ears pricked as he half listened to the conversation taking place beside him.
  
   "Picking up anything interesting with those powers of yours?" Wally raised his eyebrows expectantly, but he should have known to be a bit more straightforward to receive the answers he wanted from the socially-inept Kryptonian clone.
  
   "That would depend on who you asked, I guess. It's a matter of opinion as to how interesting something is." Robin rolled his eyes at the statement.
  
   "Well, whatever you can hear must be interesting to you; you're certainly concentrating hard enough." Wally teased lightly, crossing his arms. "What are they saying?"
  
   "The Flash had us leave the room for a reason. He and Batman probably don't want us to know what they're talking about."
  
   "So? You were the one listening in the first place. We simply want to know what you know." Superboy had the decency to look sheepish—or as sheepish as he could, because that was not an adjective often used to describe the stoic boy—at that statement. "They're going to tell us when everyone else gets here, anyway, so it's really not that big of a deal."
  
   Connor conceded, recognizing that his friend's logic was sound—or, at least, semi-sound enough to sway him. He would be the first to admit—well, second if Red Arrow had been present—that being left out of the loop was becoming increasingly annoying. Yes, the League had given them some freedoms, but they were still sometimes treated as less-than-heroes, even though they had earned rights to actual titles long ago. That was, of course, why he had been listening in the first place. "They're talking about the suit, now." He relented gruffly.
  
   "That outfit our crazy dude was wearing?" Wally received another stiff nod in return. The Bat knew they were listening in, and was more than likely trying to screen the conversation
  
   "So, anything new?" Robin asked, looking expectantly at Connor. Batman had told him everything he had known—or had been willing to reveal—much, much earlier that morning, but, seeing as the Flash was in charge of analyzing the physical evidence found, there was a large possibility that he could learn more about... his future self. He stopped the train of thought, though, as soon as it started rounding that familiar loop asking why he was wearing the suit in the first place.
  
   Connor paused, cocking his head to the side ever so slightly as he listened carefully. He almost seemed, to Wally, like a puppy, at times—though he would never, never admit it aloud. He liked living. "All of the equipment is professional grade, League-quality... stuff. There's a wrist computer imbedded in the left glove—the one that wasn't destroyed. Flash hasn't been able to get into the programming much, because it's heavily encrypted." Two out of three boys' facial expressions furrowed, both thinking the same thing as their gazes flicked toward the ninja standing beside them. "Aside from the obvious design changes, the outfit itself much lighter than Batman's; the armor lining is some new kind of bullet-proof material that he's never seen before, and his cape is less than half the weight of the original." Another pause, "And there's some kind of glider folded into the materia—" before he could continue on, however, the Zeta Tube AI's mechanical voice resounded through the cave halls.
  
   Recognized: Miss Martian, B-05
  
   Recognized: Martian Manhunter, 07
  
   Immediately, Superboy set out in search of his girlfriend; he was not used to spending so much time away from her, and was anxious to see her again. They did live together, after all. Meanwhile, Robin and Kid Flash shared a look; her uncle had beamed down with her, which meant that either something was wrong, or J'onn knew about another new development. The two boys set off after their friend, returning to the main room where the adults had migrated just in time to see Martian Manhunter give his niece a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before striding toward the two other mentors.
  
   Upon seeing their arrival, M'gann immediately perked up, having looked a frighteningly out-of-character blend of distraught and forlorn. "Hey, guys!" She floated over toward her friends as they approached, engulfing Superboy in a hug the moment she was close enough to do so. After releasing him, she moved on to the other two, for good measure—though she remained a beat longer with her arms around Robin than the others, much to Connor's unexplainable annoyance. The Boy Wonder, however, simply embraced her, understanding. M'gann knew, and he wanted to let her know that he did, as well. Whether she picked up on his message or not, though, he wasn't sure, so he pushed a little mental message of reassurance her way in an effort to comfort her. She squeezed a little harder before releasing him.
  
   As they regrouped, Batman was informing J'onn that yes, he was aware of the man's identity. When the Martian offered to share the memories M'gann had gathered with the Dark Knight, however, he paused, debating, before declining. It would be better if he remained detached for the time being, and there was no telling what kind of emotions the telepathic message would stir up. He needed to keep as much a level head as possible.
  
   Recognized: Aqualad, B-02
  
   The Atlantean's arrival was marked with a silent, respectful nod of recognition toward the mentors gathered, before he moved to join the rest of his team. Aquaman had not been explicitly requested, and, as such, had remained under the sea, where he was needed to tend to royal matters—both personal and political. Now, all that was left to do was await Artemis, and then the debriefing could begin. Fifteen minutes of useless, loaded small talk regarding everyone's respective sleepovers later, the mechanical voice spoke up once more.
  
   Recognized: Artemis, B-07
  
   Recognized: Red Arrow, B-06
  
   Well, that was unexpected. At the sound of the second name being announced, all conversation stopped, and eight pairs of eyes turned toward the cave's electronic entrance as both archers stepped through. "What?" Artemis asked, suddenly unnerved as her gazed flicked across all of those watching her. Just as she was about to start panicking—did they know something? —though, she realized that she wasn't the one everyone had focused on.
  
   "Hey, Roy!" She had never been more thankful for Kid Mouth's ever-present enthusiasm—not that she would ever admit it. "What're you doing here?" In an instant, the speedster was by his fellow ginger's side, ignoring her as he went, followed closely by the other Team members present. She nodded quietly in greeting as they approached, and she received smiles in return from everyone but Superboy and, of course, Wally. "And how'd you end up with Arty, here?" Wally eyed her suspiciously, as though she had somehow brainwashed his friend into associating with her. Suddenly, the panic returned. How was he—she—going to explain that Roy had intercepted a transmission briefing Green Arrow in the events of the night before, and then tracked her down to where she lived in Gotham in order to grill her on the situation that he had not been informed of.
  
   He shot a tense glance her way that did not go unnoticed by the ever-perceptive Detectives present in the room, and calmly replied, "We ran into each other as I was gathering some things from GA's house, and decided to join when she got the call from Batman." And forced her to notify me the minute she heard any new developments so that I could investigate things for myself.
  
   "Awesome!" Wally cheered, earning a matching grin from the otherwise-quiet Boy Wonder. Neither he nor the Dark Knight was fooled, but the former was not complaining. Roy had always been something of an older brother to him, and, no matter how things turned out, the redhead was someone he wanted on his side.
  
   Bruce, however, was less than amused. "This is a covert assignment debrief, and you have made it very clear that you do not want any part in the Team." Get out was implied, but not heeded.
  
   Roy, unfazed, stood his ground and didn't—noticeably—flinch as Gotham's Protector glared him down. "I think I'll make an exception in this case, alright?" He crossed his arms and rooted his stance as the room lapsed into a tense silence. Later, Wally would swear that he heard thunder rolling in the air as the two most stubborn people—not counting Superman, of course—ever associated with the League stared each other down, waiting for the other to crack.
  
   Knowing that neither would ever back down—well, not any time soon, at least—Robin stepped in, calmly asserting, "Well I'm glad you're here. We don't see enough of you anymore." That settled it for Bruce, who, after sharing a loaded look with his son, reluctantly backed down and took a step back, returning toward the gathered mentors as his cape billowed behind him.
  
   "Yes, it is good to see you again, my friend," Kaldur reached out a hand, which Roy accepted and shook firmly. Red Arrow had gained a multitude of respect for the Atlantean after the peace-talks incident involving Lex Luthor, and, though they had not interacted extensively following, had formed something of a friendship with the younger teenager. M'gann and Connor, for their parts, stood back with Artemis; neither had interacted much with the elder archer, and had nothing to add on his behalf. Once greetings had been exchanged, Robin took a few steps toward where Batman was furiously typing a few things into the main monitor's holographic keyboard and Martian Manhunter and the Flash looked on quietly, both unusually tense. Recognizing the cue, Aqualad took charge, making his way forward. "Now that we are all present, shall we begin?" The Dark Knight nodded briskly, sliding the window—which the Team now recognized as their patient's vital statistics—off to the side.
  
   He turned to address all those present and pulled a clip of the security footage taken in the medical room the night before, playing it back as means of an introduction for both Red Arrow and his fellow Leaguers. "Following yesterday's... encounter, I belatedly retrieved several blood samples as means of pulling an identification once it became clear that he was neither stable nor willing enough to provide an accurate name on his own." A few more taps and the images of several charts and a few charts that several were able to easily identify as mass spectrometer break-down read-outs appeared, pushing the video clip to the bottom of the massive screen. "Analyzing the content's composition, however, revealed two major anomalies," a particularly spiked section of the graph was highlighted, "one being a particularly high white blood cell count—though not enough to indicate any form of life-threatening disease." Another bit on the picture was brought to attention, "The reason for the increase is an abnormal set of cells present in the bloodstream at miniscule amounts."
  
   Ever the science geek, Wally squinted at the screen, perking up in confusion and momentarily forgetting himself as he interrupted the leader of the League. "But what is it? That's not any chemical I've seen before, and I thought I pretty much had them all covere—" Barry effectively silenced his nephew with a firm hand on his shoulder, and Kid Flash immediately felt his face turn hot in embarrassment. Under any other circumstances, Artemis and Robin would have been laughing, but, as it were, the Gotham-bred pair was too engrossed in the findings, despite one's knowledge already of what was to come.
  
   The Dark Knight, for his part, paused momentarily as things settled back down before continuing. "The second inconsistency was the blood itself, and the DNA held therein." Then the last thing most of the room's occupants expected appeared on-screen: a picture and profile—with the appropriate parts censored out in black, of course—of someone disturbingly familiar. "It was a perfect match to Robin." Needless to say, that went over well.
  
   Immediately, multiple people began talking at once, all crowding around both the Boy Wonder and his mentor. "But... But that's not possible!" Wally sputtered, immediately gripping his best friend's arm before he was aware of the action.
  
   "But he's right—"
  
   "—No way that—"
  
   "—ve your identities been compromis—"
  
   Enough. Martian Manhunter's sharp command permeated everyone's thoughts, effectively silencing the rising panic. Neither the Dynamic Duo nor the Martians were dramatically shocked by the news, but Dick was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the near-suffocating group of his closest friends and near-family that had subconsciously closed around him in a protective stance. Some detached part of Batman was amused at the sight, but did not betray it as he returned to the task at hand.
  
   "From what I have been able to gather, the man is a matured Robin from somewhere between eight and eleven years ahead in our own timeline." A few more murmurs rose, but quickly died down. "I have not yet been able to determine how, exactly, it was possible for him to do so, but, judging by the amount of trauma he sustained when entering this reality, it can be inferred that he did not do so willingly."
  
   It was Aqualad who interrupted this time, "But why are you revealing this information to us? Could it not jeopardize this potential future?"
  
   Batman nodded, "Three years ago, the Justice League had a run-in with an alternate dimension group of criminals who called themselves the Crime Syndicate," a blurred snippet of security camera footage maximized itself showing a destructive battle taking place in what Robin and M'gann recognized to be an under-construction Watchtower. "After being tricked into crossing over, much of the League was captured, and we learned of a plan by... one of our counterparts to destroy something called the Multiverse." Out of the corner of his eye, Wally thought he saw his uncle shudder. He would ask about what had happened later—for all of the bragging Barry loved to do regarding his hero-ing adventures, this was one story Wally had never been told.
  
   "Is that, like, one huge, expansive universe, or something?" Artemis asked, a hand on her hip giving the outward appearance of confidence while her incessant chewing on her bottom lip betrayed the nervousness she felt inside. Suddenly, this whole situation was something much, much bigger than all of them. They weren't dealing with some punk who thought he could be Batman anymore—no, things had just reached a whole new level of importance. She wondered why Batman was even bothering to inform them of the situation; this seemed like it belonged on higher channels. It was the type of case that their Team shouldn't be classified to even think in the general topic of.
  
   "The Multiverse is a set of parallel dimensions in varying degrees of similarity to our own." Batman paused, seeming to think back on something, before continuing in a different, darker tone of voice. "Each decision that is made has two possible outcomes, and those outcomes prompt other events and subsequent choices that must be made as a result. Every time an answer or solution is presented to a question, the walls of the dimensions are split—whereas as on one world a certain response is given, its counterpart carries on as if the opposite occurs."
  
   "But with seven billion people making an innumerable number of choices every day..." Wally trailed off, swallowing as things started to piece together.
  
   "That means an infinite number of Earths are floating around across dimensional walls right now, multiplying with every second that passes," Red Arrow stated flatly, speaking his first words since the beginning of the debriefing.
  
   Bruce nodded solemnly. "When this older version of Robin returned to this point in time, he created a New Earth, altering whatever events would have taken place on these particular days in the personal history of his timeline."
  
   "But how do we know he isn't from some other dimension altogether, as opposed to the future of this one?" Artemis questioned, shooting a glance as she did so toward the unusually-quiet young Martian currently sidled up next to her stoic boyfriend. She looked... severely upset; and, now that she noticed it, Robin did, as well. The latter was understandable, however—but M'gann? The blonde archer remembered the failed mind-probe attempt from the day before—had she known all of this? Artemis, for her part, was the newest to all of this metahuman craziness, but was doing her best to take the whole thing in stride. She was convinced that the utter absurdity of what she was hearing would sink in later on in the day, but for now she just decided to—as some of her classmates might say—roll with it. "I mean, he did attack you," now that she thought about it, though, they had not witnessed the actual fight—just its aftermath. And, even then, he had never made any direct attempt at harming them.
  
   "We don't know that for certain, but it is the best guess we have so far. Based on what Miss Martian," he nodded toward the green-skinned ginger, drawing attention to her. At that, however, she seemed to curl in on herself, before tentatively straightening, "witnessed yesterday when entering his subconscious, his history directly parallels our own up until this point." Miss Martian nodded, confirming the Dark Knight's statement to her friends and their mentors. "And that was, what I can infer, a futile attempt on his part to avoid his DNA's recognition by the Systems. Knowing it would compromise his identity and more than likely uncertain of the consequences that could have, he acted rashly as a result of poor thinking brought on by his concussion. That also explains how adamant he was that Miss Martian tell no one who he was."
  
   "All this is well and great," Wally started, before catching his disrespectful tone and clearing his throat, "but what about any other possibilities?" Kid Flash shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, "Couldn't he, you know, be another clone from Cadmus, or something?" He shot an apologetic glance toward where Superboy had tensed, fists clenching tightly at the mention of his creators. M'gann tried her best to subtly soothe him.
  
   Batman re-selected the first blood map, once again isolating the unknown anomaly tainting the read-out. "I considered that first, as well, but the CTE protein's presence in his system is something that only occurs when crossing dimensions. It's the body's defense mechanism against the strain of splitting apart unnaturally due to the stress—the essence of what lies between dimensions seeping through the core in an effort to stabilize the life passing through; or so we have theorized. Again, there's no real way to know for certain. All of the Leaguers who travelled across were subject to strict testing regimens following the event in order to ensure that there were no lasting, harmful effects, and, while each was deemed in normal health, all had contracted his particular, harmless abnormality."
  
   It seemed that, for the time being, there were no more questions, and the silence that followed as the information sunk in to each mind present seemed to stretch on far too long. Eventually, unable to handle the quiet any longer, Flash broke the meditative state. "So... what's the plan, now, Bats? Returning him to his home dimension means sieving through billions of possibilities, and even then there's still a chance that we end up with the wrong world. And the kind of equipment that's needed to make any of this work... it could take weeks—possibly months to put together." He reached up as though he were about to run a hand through his hair, before remembering that his cowl was up and dropping his hand. Barry, unfortunately, settled for pacing, instead—an action that was never calm when being carried out, much less so when a speedster was involved.
  
   Before any answer could be given, though, a red alert message appeared on the screen, an alarm sounding throughout the room. That first window showing the man—no, Robin's vitals maximized itself, all lines and numbers immediately dropping to a flat zero. The Team scrambled into action, knowing that could only mean two things: either their friend was dead—no one dared dwell on that thought, refusing to believe it even in the worst of circumstances—or, "He's awake."