Chapter Text
Tim didn’t pretend to understand the relationship between Nightwing and Batman perfectly. For the most part, sure. There were nuances he captured well: he could discern their periods of agreement from the calm before the storm; he knew what reply would be the last straw; and then the moment where it was best to take cover. He often understood better than they did when they were confessing their affection with remarks so convoluted that he had to scrape through a good ten levels and innuendos before unearthing a meaning: “happy to see you” meant: “I missed you horribly.”
But there were really moments where their behavior took him completely aback. Now, for example. The three of them had been on a stakeout for a good hour and a half, waiting for the dealers to want to show up, when all of a sudden, without warning and without any explanation, Batman had moved to corner, if not plaster, Nightwing against the wall of the chimney hiding them.
Dick hadn’t made a sound or made a movement, as far as Tim could see beyond Batman’s massive silhouette; Batman didn’t even seem to be interested in Nightwing, who couldn’t be more glued to him. He continued to surveil the alley, and Tim knew he should do the same, but he was so intrigued, or rather a little uneasy, or rather completely perturbed. So much that he was really struggling to concentrate.
Bruce and Dick never touched each other. Or very seldom. Bruce had a very, very clear sense of personal space, and even Dick and his need to fiddle with everything at hand respected it. For the most part.
That Bruce, sorry, that Batman started it? There had to be a reason, an excellent reason, one which wasn’t coming to Tim immediately now, but which would become evident shortly.
He hoped.
A movement in the alley attracted his attention. Within the second, Batman had given the signal to depart and jumped into the void. Tim couldn’t stop himself from throwing a glance toward Nightwing. Who didn’t seem more disturbed than that.
-
Hours later in the Batcave, Tim waited to be alone with Dick to demand an explanation. His response, still unknown, triggered an unexpected apprehension from Tim.
“Um, what happened earlier?”
In the middle of extracting himself from Nightwing’s costume to change before going back to New York, Dick lifted his head.
“Earlier?”
“When we were waiting. When Bruce moved in front of you.”
“Oh.”
Dick shrugged, seeming embarrassed.
“I was starting to struggle to stay put,” he confessed.
“…And?”
“And Batman a couple of millimeters from you? You stay calm, believe me.”
Tim believed him.
¤¤¤
In retrospect, he told himself he should have known that trying the same thing on Bart really wasn’t a good idea. He pleaded exhaustion, stress, and Conner who was flirting with everyone recently, including Tim, which pissed Cassie off and put Kon on the defensive.
In any case, if Bart didn’t stay in position, the plan would fail, and so Tim tried his luck. Of course, he didn’t even have time to approach effectively before Rose couldn’t help but whistle, Mia cleared her throat, and Bart widened his eyes while asking Robinwhat’reyoudoing.
Of course the plan had fallen through.
The flyers, composed of Conner, Cassie, and Kara, had rushed in as reinforcements instead of holding their line, and Tim hoped that the bazaar of hours that had followed would never reach Nightwing’s ears, because the Titans surely had never known such humiliation under his command.
Thank goodness it had only been a training session, or they all would have died.
When Cassie had asked what happened to them, Rose had responded something like: “You can rest easy, doll, apparently Robin prefers speed to strength!” Exasperated, Tim hadn’t stayed for the rest of the explanation, preferring to take refuge in the briefing room to review the catastrophic execution of their practically non-existent teamwork.
From the outside, it was even worse than he’d imagined.
There’s was nothing else for it than to call themselves Young Justice again.
He ran a hand through his hair and meanwhile Bart unloaded.
“You’re my best friend, Tim, you know,” he declared in a panicked voice, “but so is Conner and I really prefer girls you know and Conner…”
Tim hastily interrupted him and reassured him of his intentions while trying to stay calm.
“Oh,” Bart said. “Okay. Yeah. I want to say, it’s flattering and all, er, but I like living. You’ll tell Conner, right? Promise?”
“I don’t see how this concerns him,” sighed Tim, who preferred not to discuss this sort of thing with Superboy.
“But you’ll tell him, right?”
Bart ran off as soon as Tim promised him, and Tim turned off the much too depressing video.
Conner had disappeared when he left for his search; Mia informed him that he’d claimed an emergency in Metropolis before leaving the tower. Tim stopped himself from rubbing his temples and, deciding that the weekend was a lost cause, declared that anyone who wanted could go back home. As for himself, he was going to New York to whine to Dick.
And it was only Saturday.
-
Dick listened to his recriminations with a compassionate ear.
“Kara comes only when convenient, for a while Cassie’s been fighting everything I say again, Rose and she keep provoking each other at the first opportunity, and Conner seems to have decided to try to take the trophy of biggest seducer from Green Arrow.”
Tim buried his face in his hands.
“He’s driving me crazy,” he grumbled.
Dick winced and patted him on the back.
“On that point, I’m going to avoid giving you advice. You’ll have noticed that my love life is hardly a success.”
“It’s not that,” Tim protested. “Well yeah, a little. At least before, when he was only interested in Cassie, I knew where to turn. Now he’s preying on everything that moves. I don’t know if it’s living in Metropolis with Clark that’s done it, but it looks like he’s rediscovered his hormones.”
“Maybe he’s exploring his sexuality?”
“He can’t do it somewhere not right under my nose?”
The question was rhetorical. Dick’s response came in the form of a pint of Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice cream and the first Halloween. Tim found it perfectly satisfactory.
-
When he returned to the manor at the beginning of the evening, he found an email from Rose in his inbox, along with a text file attachment.
I got nothing against a little show w Bart but id prefer this…
Sweet dreams ♥
With the terrible feeling that he was looking for trouble, Tim opened the attachment all the same. And indeed regretted it.
The file revealed itself to be a sex scene which a single glimpse made him classify as torrid. Between Nightwing and Robin. Tim stood abruptly, sending his chair flying. Alfred entered just then with a sandwich and coffee mug; in his haste to close the file, Tim almost knocked over the computer screen and succeeded only in magnifying the screen.
To his great mortification, Alfred stayed politely at the door, an eyebrow raised, and waited for Tim to put himself together and turn the screen off, before he approached, seeming nonchalant and yet all-knowing. Tim wanted to disappear into the earth, and he wasn’t talking about the Batcave.
“Master Bruce will not be returning for dinner this evening,” Alfred declared. “He will have you know that if you wish to finish the weekend with Master Dick, you have permission to do so.”
Tim’s eyes widened.
Nightwing’s tongue swipes gently over his lips, and he opens his mouth, more and more…
He cleared his throat.
“I’m going to stay in Gotham,” he said in a small voice. “So Cass will have less to do.”
Alfred raised an eyebrow again, but left the plate on the desk without a word.
“If you would like a hot diner before going on patrol, let me know.”
“Yes, thank you Alfred.”
When the door closed behind the butler, Tim let himself collapse in his chair with a sigh of relief. A second of respite, then he hurried to erase all trace of Rose’s email, eyes practically closed.
Monday at last…
¤¤¤
He would’ve quickly forgotten the entire incident if Bruce hadn’t repeated it. Bruce, not Batman, and that was what made the event notable. Masked, Tim wouldn’t even have paid attention, would’ve catalogued it as one of the multiple oddities inherent to Batman and Nightwing’s relationship which only happened between them.
But the three of them were at a restaurant, which a recent habit (for the new, political Wayne family). For once they were in New York, and Dick had brought them here. They were far from the class and luxury Bruce had accustomed them to, but the small room of the Ethiopian restaurant was very warm and they ate with their hands, both of which made the experience particularly pleasant. Bruce had hardly seemed bothered and, despite the saucepot, had maintained an absolute dignity and propriety. Dick, an apparent regular, was pornography all by himself. Tim quickly learned to keep his eyes on his plate. He was managing a little less well than Bruce but at least enjoyed it as much as Dick, even if he showed it more with gluttony than lust.
Dick made it clear that he was getting the check, and that it wasn’t worth discussing. Bruce had pursed his lips but not protested, which won him a luminous smile.
When it came time to pay, Dick went to the bar while Bruce and Tim headed to the door. He took a while to return, in the middle of talking with a waiter. Dick’s back was to them, but the waiter was facing them, and the expression on his face made it clear that he wasn’t hesitating to give Dick his number if he hadn’t already.
Bruce, who must have been feeling impatient, began to walk towards them. And if Tim hadn’t moved a little to the side, if he hadn’t witnessed the scene two weeks earlier, he would have believed that Bruce had very simply pressed against Dick. But no, they never touched. There were simply very, very close.
The server paled and quickly distanced himself. Bruce didn’t move right away, and Dick stayed just as still. He didn’t relax until after Bruce had moved away.
Tim averted his eyes and acted as if he hadn’t noticed anything.
He asked himself what explanation Dick would have this time. However, during his return trip, Tim was surprised to see moments of hesitation on his older brother’s face as he looked at their mentor.
Apparently, Tim wasn’t the only one who Bruce’s action had disconcerted.
¤¤¤
After a week of radio silence and a weekend sulking without any particular reason, Conner had returned to the Titans more in shape than ever. And with new suggestions.
“We could recruit a little, the team’s missing guys! We’re a dramatic minority!”
Tim stared, not knowing what to say.
“And then, a little fresh blood would be nice,” added Conner. “Bart, you and I have known each other from the beginning. Anyone really great, of the potential candidates?”
Bart pulled at his hair in a perhaps exaggerated fashion, but as for himself, Tim had the sudden irrepressible need to take Conner’s head and hit it very hard against the table, so he had nothing to say.
To his grand satisfaction, Cassie did it for him.
“Hey! No need to be violent!” Conner protested.
Tim couldn’t prevent himself from throwing a look full of gratitude to their Amazon. She surprised him and gave him a little smile that warmed Tim’s heart.
Rose began to list some names. He cut her off right away.
“As long as we aren’t capable of acting as a team,” he said in a serious tone, “there’s no question of taking in new members.”
“Robin’s right,” Cassie added calmly.
Again, they exchanged a look, and Tim knew that whatever had happened for her to blame him up until now, a truce had just been made. He hoped it would last.
A little later, Conner came over to put a hand on his shoulder, contrite.
“I wasn’t serious, just now.”
“That’s really the problem, Conner,” he responded wearily. “You haven’t been serious for some time now.”
I miss you, he kept to himself.
His friend opened his mouth without saying a word, a confused expression on his face. As he wasn’t saying anything, Tim finally left. Conner didn’t call him back.
He’d heard some people found the weekend relaxing.
¤¤¤
Connor had suggested he come to Star City Sunday night before returning to Gotham. They hadn’t seen each other for a long time, both individually busy. Therefore, Tim accompanied Mia to Ollie’s, where Roy popped up like a jack-in-the-box 20 minutes after Tim’s arrival. Connor looked at Tim with an embarrassed look, and Tim rolled his eyes and smiled at him.
He liked Roy, really, if only because of his friendship with Dick. On top of which, it was nice for his ego to be perceived as a threat by Roy “kill ’em all” Harper.
Barely inside, Roy exclaimed:
“Aw, Tim! It seems you’re dying of love for Kid Flash?”
Tim struck Mia with a look, and Mia shrugged with a large smile. Even Connor bit his lip.
“Lay off it,” he sighed. “I was just testing a technique of Batman’s, that’s all.”
Roy lifted his eyebrows, leaning on the back of the couch. Nonchalant, he played with the little hairs on Connor’s nape, who allowed it.
“A technique of Batman’s? For what, stopping speedsters in their tracks?”
“No, to prevent Nightwing from fidgeting,” responded Tim impulsively, too annoyed not to defend himself.
There was a silence.
“Stop ’wing from… Oh! Oooh, that technique!” said Roy with a chuckle.
He recovered.
“And you buy that?”
Tim was going to respond yes of course, why not? when the scene at the restaurant came to mind. Uneasy, he stayed silent.
“Bogus argument,” declared Roy. “He’s been using that excuse for years. Dick has a strong discipline. Say what you want, he can stay still for hours if he wants. He doesn’t like it, but he does it.”
It was true. It was true. And Tim had wanted a normal explanation so much that he had accepted it without even contesting it.
Roy sniffed.
“Bo—gus,” he insisted. “But you know the saddest thing about it?”
He shook his head.
“It’s that Dick believes it.”
-
Tim returned from Star City more disturbed than he’d ever been. Roy’s revelations had shaken him. His question found itself again without an answer. The only one which seemed logical to him, the only one which would explain everything frightened him more than he dared admit. He had an irrational desire to contact Jason, to ask him if he had suspected something, if something had existed only then. If it was connected to Dick leaving.
He didn’t understand how he could have missed such a huge event, him, who’d dedicated part of his life to them, he who considered himself an authority on their relationship. Suddenly, everything he knew took on another meaning. All his conclusions, all his deductions, everything was distorted.
Of course, it was only a supposition. An implication that Roy hadn’t taken the trouble to clarify.
But if it turned out to be true? What would he do then? How would he act?
Nightwing’s blind devotion, Dick’s systematic and unconditional forgiveness. Batman’s excessive demands, Bruce’s unhealthy possessiveness. That strange way he had of violently driving Dick off, and yet doing everything to keep him on his territory. Dick, who allowed it. Who grumbled, who protested, who rebelled, but who always returned.
Everything was becoming so clear now.
And Tim had to rebuild his adoptive family in his head. Completely. He felt off balance. He needed to understand. To know what he’d missed.
At the manor, he didn’t present himself right away to Bruce, who Tim wasn’t sure he could still look in the eye. He looked for Alfred who, like always in these scenarios, was the one to find him.
“Master Timothy, welcome back.”
Tim turned and found Alfred behind him, feather duster in hand.
“Alfred…”
The old butler raised an eyebrow.
“Master Tim?”
Tim hesitated for an instant, then gathered his courage.
“Alfred… Dick and Bruce… what were they like? What were they like, before?”
−
Alfred didn’t have anything to add. Nothing but the usual: “Master Bruce and Master Dick, difficulty communicating, a lot of fondness, etc.”
Maybe he didn’t know anything (which was hard to believe), maybe he didn’t want to look reality in the face. Or maybe he was even covering for them. Only, Tim refused to believe that they were… together. He’d been had as to the nature of their affection for each other, but they wouldn’t ever have been able to hide it from him.
If Bruce found him quieter than usual that night, he didn’t mention it. Tim still didn’t know how to react and didn’t have the time to question the subject much longer.
A small city in the middle of the United States exploded. A first incident, an example, and a new enemy appeared. Nobody was sure if he came from the future, from a parallel universe, or if he was the result of an accident of brain experimentation (especially as his only response when they questioned him was: “I’m your past, present, and future, HA HA HA HA!”). The JLA refused to classify his intervention as a Crisis but as Rose said, nobody gave a shit. He was doing enough damage to mobilize every superhero around (without counting some enraged criminals), and that was all that counted.
Unik, as he called himself, controlled machines in a very worrisome way, through a virus which he sent by linking his brainwaves to technology waves, capturing even the most remote devices.
It took them awhile to determine the nature of his power, but once they had, the final battle began.
There were several groups: the defense teams which regularly rotated to avoid exhaustion; the attack team which was facing Unik directly; and the infiltration team charged with invading the JLA watch tower, securing it, and launching an “antivirus” there, which, failing to totally suppress Unik’s powers, would blur the majority of his waves and would relieve all alternative battle fronts.
This team was comprised of the Teen Titans.
Oracle and Tim had teamed up to hack a teleportation pod. The Titans managed to join them at the tower and were immediately attacked by a good part of the devices and various robots.
The seriousness of the situation had given them a discipline they hadn’t known they were capable of. Less quickly than Tim would have liked, but much more quickly than he would have dreamed, they successfully reached the control room and sequestered it, which meant they held the entire tower. While the others defended the room, Tim and Bart took themselves to the computers, Tim to up the progress of the program, and Bart to enter the codes at a speed which Unik’s virus couldn’t beat. They hoped the tower’s computer would support the shock, but Wally had assured them that he and Superman used it without difficulty.
They worked in a silence interrupted by the sounds of battle behind them and by Rose cursing.
“Done!” Bart finally shouted. “How long before it works?”
“It’s going to disengage little by little,” responded Tim. “Probably one to two hours for the whole planet to be entirely clean.”
“This is going to be long,” groaned their speedster. “Hey, they’re calling us!”
It was Nightwing, who demanded a report of the situation. Tim summarized recent events for him.
“Well played, you guys. Robin, Wally will be your contact here. I’m leaving the East Coast for the main front, they’re surrounded.”
“We’re coming,” Tim declared.
“You’re going nowhere. You have to hold the tower – if Unik takes hold of it again, everything will have been for nothing.”
Tim tensed. Nightwing’s tone was calm but he could sense a tension underneath which he didn’t like at all. It must be going even worse than he was saying.
“I’m coming.”
“Out of the question. You’re staying with your team. You guys are holding the tower, and you are not moving before the signal. Do I make myself clear? Robin, is it clear?”
Tim gritted his teeth.
“Clear.”
-
Conner had come to lean on the control panel, right at Tim’s side, but abstained from speaking. Tim was aware of him, both of his comforting presence and his silence. When he lifted his eyes towards him, Conner offered him a small smile that Tim couldn’t help but respond to.
“We have the picture!” shouted Bart.
“Focus on the main battle,” Tim ordered.
“Sir yes sir!”
Chaos. He heard Cassie and Kara breathe deeply behind him. Rose abstained from commenting. Mia stifled a cry. He felt Conner’s hand gripping his shoulder, stronger than usual, as if he couldn’t quite control his grip.
“Ouch,” breathed Bart.
The city where Unik had established his headquarters was a desolate landscape. Tim pressed his lips against the tremor threatening them.
Blüdhaven. The last Crisis. The massacre.
Electronic creatures were fighting against part of the JLA, the JSA, and other unaffiliated superheroes; they saw the red and blue flash of Superman cross the screen, saw the half-destroyed building where Red Arrow was drawing his bow. Further down, Connor was fighting hand-to-hand with a robot. His father couldn’t be far.
“We should be there too,” said Mia.
“Nightwing told us to stay here, we stay here,” Rose replied without her ordinary animosity. “I don’t want to look him in the eye if we leave and lose the tower.”
“Maybe we don’t all have to stay,” said Kara.
“Have you already forgotten the trouble we had getting here?” intervened Cassie. “This worked because we all worked together…”
“…for once,” murmured Tim.
“…for once, and only this room is completely secured. It’s enough if Unik realizes what we’re doing and focuses on the tower, and then everything’s ruined.”
“For that he’d need time,” Bart cut in. “Take a look at the screen on the right!”
He’d just focused on Unik, who wasn’t alone.
“Batman was able to get through his shield?” exclaimed Mia.
“It’s Batman,” Conner responded, almost blasé. “He probably has a batscrambler for magnetic shields.”
“An anti-reality wave diffuser. It’s attached to his belt,” said Tim. “We weren’t sure it would work.”
“We’re going to act like we know what you’re talking about, Rob, and just be happy it works.”
Batman and Unik were fighting a seemingly uneven fight: the other heroes were dealing with machines and without them, their enemy wasn’t worth much and defended himself flabbily with a weak telekinesis. Bruce wasn't going all out, remarked Tim. He wasn’t taking useless risks. Clearly he intended to exhaust his adversary before striking.
They had the picture but not the sound. The following scene unfolded in a leaden silence. Propelled by his telekinesis, Unik flew off several meters above the ground. His outstretched hand brought his the weapon of one of the robots. He brandished it. He drew.
Tim’s breathing stopped.
Out of nowhere, a black silhouette, a blue flash which caught the full force of the attack in the air.
One always imagines that time stood still in moments like this, allowing viewers the necessary seconds for understanding.
Nightwing dropped like a stone.
“No, no, NO!” shouted Tim.
He was trapped in a loop, a scene repeating, repeating, again in the middle of the Crisis, again Dick on the ground and Conner dead and…
“Robin! Robin! TIM!”
Tim breathed, gasped, solid arms around him, Conner’s voice, Conner alive and Nightwing, Dick… still on the ground. Donna held him against her.
“I’ll kill him!” shouted Rose. “I’ll rip his eyes out, I’ll shove my fingers in his eyes and rip out his brains, I’ll kill him!”
“We’ve gotta go there!” Kara shouted. “We’ve gotta go there, oh god Nightwing, Nightwing…!”
“Robin, come on!” Tim heard like in a dream.
He looked at Cassie without comprehension.
“Come on!” she insisted. “We’ve got the tower, go!”
Dick had told him to stay. Dick had told him to…
“Come on or I’m throwing you in the teleporter myself!”
Tim ran.
-
When he got there, everything was over.
Only a handful of minutes had passed, but the battlefield was silent. Donna had gotten up, had let Bruce take her place over Dick’s body. Diana held her in her arms a few meters away. In the corner of his eye, he saw Roy come running. Wally didn’t know yet, he thought mechanically.
Flashback. Superman over Conner’s fallen body, Cassie in tears against Diana.
But standing in front of Bruce, a long bloody knife in his hands, a strange presence.
“Red Hood?” muttered a voice near him.
Conner. A hand on his shoulder which he no longer felt. Automatically he thought: why aren’t you at the tower, they need you, but his mouth was dry and throat tight and…
Bruce straightened up, Dick in his arms. Tim saw only his dangling legs. He felt someone pushing him on the back, gently.
“Go, Tim. Come on,” whispered Conner. “I’m here.”
That last sentence gave him the effect of a shot of adrenaline. A first step, two, three, he was running; he passed Connor, Tempest, Green Arrow, almost pushed Roy… Jason turned his head towards him, pushed back the red hood hiding the wolf inside.
“Where were you hiding, babybird?” he said in a tone lacking its usual bite.
He wiped the blade of his knife on his jeans.
“Nightwing,” Tim finally said.
“He was breathing before dad over there started smothering him,” Jason responded. “But IF SOMEONE DOESN’T MOVE HIS ASS NOTHING’S GONNA CHANGE!”
Superman appeared out of nowhere.
“Batman, let me bring him. He needs medical attention, let me take him…”
“No.”
Clark didn’t waste time in useless discussion. He caught Bruce by the waist. In a couple seconds, they had disappeared.
“Good,” said Jason. “I hope you know where the batmobile’s parked.”
-
The batmobile hadn’t ever left Gotham, and it was the Arrows who brought Tim back. Conner had returned to Metropolis (“I know where Clark brought them, Tim, don’t worry, I’ll see, I’ll keep you in the loop, that okay?”), Jason had disappeared with a “Later” and an almost affectionate little swat behind Tim’s head.
For an instant, he blamed him for leaving, and held himself from calling Jason back, from asking him to stay with him. For leaving him all alone.
Ollie deployed all his optimism (“You’re unkillable, you Bats, just look at the Red Hood!”), Connor kept a constant arm around his waist, and Roy abstained from commenting on it. When they dropped Tim off in front of the manor, he laid his hand on his shoulder and squeezed.
“Ollie’s right for once,” he said lowly. “Dick’s done worse.”
Tim asked himself who Roy was trying to convince but nodded.
-
Alfred knew. Jason had made a call to the manor. Tim felt a pathetic gratitude to him. He wouldn’t have known how to tell him that Dick had tried again to kill himself, and he knew it was unfair of him, that Dick had only wanted to save Bruce, but Bruce had armor and Dick didn’t, and the excuse of an instinctive reaction wasn’t working anymore, and he was suddenly taken by a blow of rage against Bruce, Bruce whose fault it was, and if Dick died Tim would never forgive him!
His irrational anger receded as soon as it had risen.
They finally tried to contact Bruce, without success, and it was then that Tim realized he knew nothing, nothing about what had happened after Dick’s fall. He was planning to call Barbara when the doorbell rang. Alfred and Tim exchanged a glance. Alfred left to see who it was, and Tim armed himself with shuriken hidden at the bottom of a flowerpot.
“Relax, Master Tim, it’s only young Master Conner.”
“Conner?”
He joined him to be sure Alfred wasn’t mistaken, but no, of course, Alfred wasn’t making that kind of mistake.
“I have official permission to come to the manor,” explained Conner once inside. “I wanted to ring the bell to do it right.”
He had news. Good news.
“He’s stable,” he declared while devouring a piece of the brownie Alfred had offered him. “They’re a little worried about his spinal column, but apparently Donna hacked an energy thing when she caught him which kept everything in place, and Raven’s with him. She thinks she can fix the major damage. It should be okay.”
It was so comforting that Tim suddenly realized he was famished. He hadn’t eaten anything since his return.
Dick was alive. Really. He was going to survive and… he locked his knees, because the contrary would be unacceptable. Would kill him.
“Do you know what happened exactly?” he asked in response.
“Ah yeah, I asked… Nobody really saw what happened, but the main gist is that Donna caught Nightwing when he fell, and Batman, uh, lost it and started pummeling Unik, and Diana said she thought for an instant Batman was going to kill him. And then Red Hood, Jason, arrived, nobody knows from where, and punched Batman…”
Conner’s voice was impressed.
“He sent him flying! And then, uh. Jason stabbed his knife, there, in Unik’s throat. And he died.”
Tim slowly nodded. He had more or less concluded that Jason had killed the enemy. He should disapprove, he knew. And maybe, later, he would convince himself that Jason had gone too far. For the moment, he felt only gratitude towards him, and the feeling was already disturbing enough.
“The rest of the team?” he demanded.
“Everyone’s fine, they went back to their respective groups. Jericho went to look for Rose before she overturns all of Metropolis looking for Nightwing, and Kara’s there with Clark.”
Conner hesitated for a moment.
“Hey… don’t worry about us, okay? Do what you have to do here. We get it.”
-
A little later, when they found themselves in Tim’s room, Conner approached him and rested a hand on his shoulder.
“Hey, Tim. You going to be okay?”
He nodded without responding. Conner sighed.
“You… you scared me. You seemed totally out of it, I… I’d never seen you like that. What happened?”
“Nothing… I was just in shock. That’s all.”
Conner shook his head.
“It wasn’t that sort of block. There’s something else. Talk to me, Tim. I know… I know I screwed up recently but I didn’t know how… well. I want to say that I’m here for you, okay?”
Tim looked away. Conner’s fingers brushed his throat. He made to move away and sit on his bed. His friend joined him immediately.
“I know,” breathed Tim.
“What happened?” Conner asked softly.
“It’s the… the second time Dick’s put himself in the path of a bullet like that.”
He was very proud of himself: his voice didn’t waver.
“The second time he’s nearly died because he’s forgotten that Bruce has armor and he doesn’t and…”
“I don’t remember…”
“You were dead,” Tim interrupted, tense. “It was… just after.”
“I’m sorry,” breathed Conner.
“I hate that time.”
Conner dead. Dick in a coma they didn’t know if he would wake from. Or in what condition. Bruce in a bitch of a mood and unhappy and… and then Dick had opened his eyes and Conner had reappeared. After multiple tests and days not daring to believe it, they finally had confirmation, the necessary proofs.
Luthor, very simply, had had four backup bodies for Conner, and Conner’s soul had attached itself to one of them. It’d taken time before he stabilized, before he remembered who he was and what had happened. Then he’d returned, and in the panic, they’d never spoken about it. Really never.
That whole time was sealed away. Taboo. And Tim had repressed it, had acted as if Conner had never died, as if he’d never believed he’d gone crazy with grief. Followed everyone else’s example.
“You were dead,” Tim repeated, a knife twisting in the wound. “You were dead, and Dick wouldn’t wake up and…”
Conner drew him towards him. Arms around his shoulders, forehead leaning on his head. The position was uncomfortable, and Tim was taken aback and stiffened.
“I’m sorry, Tim.”
Conner’s breath caressed his hair. His heart was beating against Tim’s shoulder.
“I’m alive. I’m alive, and Dick is going to pull through, you’ll see. It’ll all be all right.”
Tim’s breathing quickened, and his throat ached and eyes were stinging. He dreamed he felt Conner place a kiss in his hair, and Tim collapsed against him, beaten. He felt Conner stiffen as if surprised, and then Conner moved his arms and let himself fall on the bed, keeping Tim with him, and hugged him.
Forehead against Conner’s collarbone, hands on his shoulder, Tim closed his eyes.