[It will be a very close call- Bruce knows that the moment he makes the decision to reach for the syringe, but how different is it really from the jeopardy he put himself in when he decided to pursue Riku in the first place? There's safety to be found in preparation, in the element of surprise- neither of which he'd been afforded when he caught sight of the boy sprinting into the brush. Bruce made his peace with the consequences the moment he chose to act. Choosing to prowl city streets and pursue criminals, to strengthen his body and his mind and his will had never been entirely about justice. In private moments, when no one looks directly at him, Bruce can acknowledge that it's about not wanting to see anyone else with eyes like his. About wanting one less funeral.
Riku's gaze snaps to his face as the needle connects and Bruce sees the recognition that lives there. He sees the precise moment that he understands what's happened, what's going to happen. Perhaps this is the reason that his strange blade begins to dissolve- a powerful mental redirection. Perhaps it's as simple as the chemical taking effect. Riku tries to raise his arm, says something that Bruce doesn't recognize, but like a sail without wind he begins to collapse in on himself. Fury and terror and agony wipe themselves from his expression, muscle unspools in his fingers and arms and shoulders, his pupils blow. He gasps.
It isn't a very large window of reaction time. Bruce draws the syringe away, angles the tip of it from their bodies and bears forward just in time to catch Riku's body with his own. His knees buckle, as if they've been cut out from under him, and Bruce meets him with a one armed embrace- gathering his weight against his chest and shoulder. It will be easier, after all, than hefting a prone body off of the ground, even if it also means that he can't see Riku's face, that he misses the instant that his eyes roll back.
Bruce's heart thrums hard inside his ribcage. His shirt is soaked with blood and sweat, his mask is plastered to his hairline with more of the same. Riku's lantern is a short distance away. He's in a not-insignificant amount of pain.
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Riku's gaze snaps to his face as the needle connects and Bruce sees the recognition that lives there. He sees the precise moment that he understands what's happened, what's going to happen. Perhaps this is the reason that his strange blade begins to dissolve- a powerful mental redirection. Perhaps it's as simple as the chemical taking effect. Riku tries to raise his arm, says something that Bruce doesn't recognize, but like a sail without wind he begins to collapse in on himself. Fury and terror and agony wipe themselves from his expression, muscle unspools in his fingers and arms and shoulders, his pupils blow. He gasps.
It isn't a very large window of reaction time. Bruce draws the syringe away, angles the tip of it from their bodies and bears forward just in time to catch Riku's body with his own. His knees buckle, as if they've been cut out from under him, and Bruce meets him with a one armed embrace- gathering his weight against his chest and shoulder. It will be easier, after all, than hefting a prone body off of the ground, even if it also means that he can't see Riku's face, that he misses the instant that his eyes roll back.
Bruce's heart thrums hard inside his ribcage. His shirt is soaked with blood and sweat, his mask is plastered to his hairline with more of the same. Riku's lantern is a short distance away. He's in a not-insignificant amount of pain.
And it's going to be a very long walk.]