Work Text:
Tim didn’t really see the appeal of scented candles. The scents were all weirdly specific things like ‘island sun’ that didn’t actually have a smell. Steph loved them though, and every time they went to the store she dragged him over to smell a dozen different candles.
“Here, smell this one.” She held out another candle.
Tim wrinkled his poor, abused nose. “I can hardly smell anything now.”
“Smell it anyway!”
Sighing, Tim took a whiff of ‘morning mist’. The light blue candle wasn’t too bad. It smelled a bit like the sky before rain, sort of cold and fresh. “This one is okay,” he admitted.
Steph gave a triumphant laugh, “See! I knew I could find one that you liked.”
“I didn’t say I liked it,” Tim said just to be contrary.
“You can’t lie to me Boy Wonder, I know you liked it.”
Tim made a face at her and tucked the candle back onto the shelf. “Come on, let’s get what we actually came here for.”
“Boring,” Steph protested, but was quickly distracted by the next display over.
It wasn’t until over an hour later, when he was unpacking his bag at home, that Tim found the candle tucked in with the rest of his purchases. Steph must have snuck it into his bag without him realizing. He rolled his eyes, but the candle found its way onto his desk where it sat untouched for a few months.
Then Steph died.
Steph died and the world fell apart. Tim couldn’t get the smell of blood out of his nose, clear his mind of her battered face. There was a grave with her name on it, and there was an empty suit in the Batcave, tucked away in the dark somewhere. There was no memorial display for Spoiler, just a fleet of nightmares that haunted his sleep.
Steph reached out a bloody hand, and Tim tried to grab it, to pull her to him. But he couldn’t reach, and he watched as she fell down, down, down. She lay on the ground, mask off to reveal a face more bruise than skin. Her eyes fluttered open to look at him. “You didn’t save me Tim. Why didn’t you save me?”
Her accusing eyes bore into him even as her skin turned pale and her limbs turned stiff. Another body in another casket, another person he had failed to save. Tim stepped forward, trying to reach her before the lid shut, but her stare was cut off by the lid closing. Down into the dirt she went.
The smell was suffocating, freshly turned dirt and new grass and the scent of blood that never faded. Tim jerked awake, terror still gripping his heart as he gasped for air, hardly recognizing his own bedroom. The stench still filled the air, the smell of death and pain lingering. He crawled out of bed, freeing himself of the tangled sheets, and stumbled towards his desk. With shaking hands he removed the lid of the candle Steph had bought him, the one he had never lit. The lighter was cold in his hands, and it was a wonder his hands held still long enough to light the wick.
Slumping into his chair, Tim stared into the flickering flame. The scent of incoming rain slowly filled his room, leaving no space for blood. He took a few shaky breaths, inhaling the smell that was so obviously not part of the nightmare. It hadn’t been raining when Steph died. No, this was the scent that accompanied them when they ran across the city together. Carefree, not scared of anything except time apart. They had sat on the rooftops together to wait out the rain, but sometimes Steph would walk out into it and dance around. She’d drag Tim out too, swing him around in the downpour until they were soaked to the bone and breathless with laughter.
Tim closed his eyes, and he saw rain instead of a graveyard. Opening his eyes, he let out a sigh, watching the small flame dance with his breath. Maybe there was something good about these things after all. He let the candle burn for a long time, until light crept in through the window and his stomach started to ask for breakfast. Then he blew it out, and tried not to let himself get lost in metaphors.
It became a habit to light the candle when he woke up from nightmares after that. The wax level slowly decreased until the candle was more like a small lump. Then Tim started to see someone out dressed as Spoiler, and it turned out that Steph had never been dead at all. His chest felt hollow when he threw out the candle, but he couldn’t stand the scent of lies.
Even though he no longer wanted to smell morning mist, Tim found himself drawn to the candle aisle now. Every time he grabbed a new scent, something that reminded him of his friends and family. There were apple pie and cinnamon and summer day candles for Kon. A storm watching candle that made him think of Cassie. One that, oddly enough, smelled like mac and cheese for Bart. Fresh laundry brought to mind Alfred, and sea breeze reminded him of Dick flipping on the wind. He had old books and leather he bought when missing Bruce. Countless more filled out his collection, some tied to people and some not.
Now Tim’s desk and windowsill were lined with candles of all shapes and sizes and scents. Changing into pajamas, he grabbed one at random. There was a lighter in his top drawer, and with a practiced motion he brought a flame to life and lit the wick. Tim allowed the tension to bleed out of him as the scent of coastal beaches filled the air.
The powerful smell overrode the ones that lingered in his memory like clouds on a sunny day. Blood and death haunted him, and their stench never let him sleep soundly. Tim knew that he would wake with the smell of blood and dirt in his nose, so he lit the candles to fight it back as best as he could. It never worked as well as he wanted, but it was better than the alternative.