Chapter Text
I was dead.
He didn’t know where he was. It… confused him. The darkness was absolute. He blinked his eyes, just to be sure he was awake.
There was no light.
He raised his arms, and they ached, and he suddenly remembered that his body was broken. His body was broken and bruised and bleeding. His body hurt.
His arms hit something soft, something with no give beyond the plush of slick fabric. His broken fingers scrabbled helplessly for a latch, hinges, light.
There is no light.
His chest hurt.
The right ear of his broken body wasn’t working. The left could hear nothing but his own breaths. They sounded raspy and afraid.
Am I afraid?
“Help,” he whispered, and it grated against his lungs.
Fire and smoke and strong arms that held him close---
“Batman?”
Aching hands pushed against the fabric, and it hurt. They moved to the sides, searching for give, for a way out. There were walls. Four of them.
He was in a box. He was in a box and alone and there was no light.
His hands were cold.
“Adapt,” someone whispered in his ear. The ghost of a memory. A dream.
I was buried, he tried to whisper back. Because he was. He had died. He was dead.
Was.
Shaking fingers felt down his heaving chest, his sleeves, his pants. A dress belt. Unlatch. Pull. Tug.
“Get out,” the voice whispered. A memory. A command.
Get. Out.
Wood splintered under desperate strength. Dirt rained down, filling his mouth, his eyes, his ears. Frantic hands dug through damp earth, bloody fingernails tearing away, broken bones screaming---
Maybe he was the one screaming.
His body was tired. He wanted to stop. He wanted to go back--- Where only bugs and satin and dirt waited for him, down there in the dark where he couldn’t breathe.
He couldn’t breathe.
He kept digging.