Chapter Text
The boy walked straight ahead, a subtle haste to his movements as he adjusted his duffel bag and rushed to his destination. His path was narrow, the shadows looming over his figure— guardian or scoundrel? One could only guess.
He looked up to ensure the tallest building in the city was still in his line of sight, serving as a North Star of kinds for the boy.
The dark of the sky and the anamorphic buildings of the city served as nothing but a backcloth for the moon’s light to shine down upon the alleyway where he treaded. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
He stopped abruptly, head whipping around behind him, but all that he was met with was an empty street lit by a single lamplight; only that, and nothing more. He looked up at the sky, to find that the moon had hidden itself behind the everpresent graying clouds of the sad, sad city. Huh. He turned to a shop window next to himself, the dark of the store piercing the steel blue eyes he saw in his reflection, as if Gotham herself could see into his very soul through them. She probably could.
The overall scene painted a portrait bearing semblance to what one could consider a contemporary interpretation of Maurits Cornelis Escher.
He closed his eyes to blink, and someone breathed. He squeezed his eyes shut, and an exhale could be heard. He opened his eyes, and now the reflection presented two pairs instead of one. He turned to where the eyes should’ve been, but there was nothing there.
He sighed and continued on his way.
The city taunted him as he walked, flashes of blue in his peripheral vision, golden strands that seemed to dance in the wind, but when he turned to face them, all he saw was the ghost that was Gotham.
He walked and he walked, closing his eyes to tune out his surroundings; after all, he knew the streets well enough to navigate them blind. He hummed a soft tune to himself as he went, and once he reached the familiar stairs he smiled slightly to himself.
He opened his eyes and climbed up the few steps of the building, opening his duffel bag to draw out a small firearm once at the top; after zipping and securing his bag, he positioned himself and aimed up at the top of the building that loomed in front of him, taking a minute to adjust himself before shooting.
The whir of a line could be heard, and just a moment after, he was flying through the air, the wind rushing in his face as he closed his eyes once more, to enjoy the sensation for what he presumed would be the last time.
Once he landed on the roof and collected himself, he made his way to the front of the building, dusting himself down as he sat on the edge, inside the harsh and sharp —yet ever comfortable form— of a stone gargoyle. He scooted to the side of the gargoyle, leaving space on his left, and closed his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that night, keeping them closed for a good while, until he felt the cold breeze that didn’t quite brush his side as it did envelope it, and heard the rustling of another presence beside him; he smiled for the lost Lenore.
“Hi, baby.”
“The moon is lovely tonight, isn’t it, Tim?”
“Yeah; yeah it is.”
Tim choked a little.
“So.. mind telling me why you’re up here, Boy Wonder?”
“I missed you. I miss you. No one believes me about you. Just like they didn’t believe me about Bruce. I get it though. Even I don't believe in myself this time.”
He opened his eyes and practically jumped as he turned to his left, his waterline teary. “You’re here, aren’t you? You’re here right?”
“I’m here. I’m with you, Tim.”
“I wish I was with you.”
“You are.”
“Not in the way I used to be— we used to be.”
“Yeah.”
A gentle weight landed on Tim’s shoulder and they sat in silence for a while, before Tim finally spoke up again.
“I have a choice, you know?”
“Oh yeah? What is it, Boy Wonder?”
“I could come with you.”
The eyes next to him widened.
“What?”
“Bruce and the others need me, but I need you,” Tim’s voice shook, “I’ve trained another Red Robin, you know? She’s younger than me, around Damian’s age, but she gets the job done, and she knows everything. She understands everything. She’s just like me. The Bats won’t have to worry about who’ll get my job done because there’s already someone in place. She’s been solving cases for the Bats for a while through me. More importantly, the Bats will get another member in their family and the girl will get to fulfill her dream of being a Robin, if just a slightly different version—” Tim rambled, but Bernard shushed him.
“I understand that Tim. I know you wouldn’t ever be unprepared, but I just mean. What? You’re going to- to come with me? You know what that means. I know you do,” the wind whistled, “do you?’ he whispered.
“I do,” Tim breathed out.
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I can’t live like this though. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, Tim.”
“I have to do this. I have to try, even if it means the smallest chance we can be together… it’s better than nothing at all.”
“I won’t- I can’t stop you, Tim, and frankly I won’t try. You’re your own person, and your mind has clearly been made, all I can do is be there for you throughout the whole thing, and after. We’ll figure out the ‘after’ part, together.”
“Yeah, together.”
Tim stood up and climbed back onto the firm, level roof of the Wayne Enterprises, the wind followed close behind him, brushing against his back.
He dropped the duffel bag on the floor, opening it to reveal several pieces of tech, multiple containers, weapons and an outfit inside. He took a communicator of his and began typing out a long message. His Lenore lingered curiously over his shoulder as he worked.
Tim timed the message to send at exactly 6 AM the next morning, and then dumped the communicator back into the bag. He settled on the floor and drew out only a few of the many containers he had stored in the bag, each labeled neatly with their chemical compound’s common name. After a few minutes of contemplation and inspection, he narrowed his group of chemicals down into just two; labelled ‘ACO and TTX’.
“What do you think Bern?”
“Tim, you know these compounds much better than I do, I’ve got no clue.”
“Hmm, you’re right. I’ll go with TTX.”
“Good choice—… I think?”
“Yeah.”
Tim put the ACO container back into the duffel bag and rummaged around inside it for yet another few minutes before he found what he was looking for; which was evidently, a large flask of a different, deep red liquid, almost completely full.
He got up from his perch on the floor, leaving his duffle bag where he was and refusing to break his eyes away from the two liquid vials in his hands, his smile quite melancholy as he inspected them the entire walk back to the edge of the roof and into the arms of his gargoyle. The wind followed close after.
Tim took a seat in the gargoyle’s arms in the same spot once more, and looked to his left after settling in, the soft smile from before still ever present, though slightly manic this time.
He opened both containers with a pop, letting the caps rest in one of the stone gargoyle’s large hands, and poured the smaller liquid into the larger flask, watching it dissolve with a peaceful expression.
He placed the smaller container into the gargoyle’s hand along with the two caps, swirling the liquid in his hands a bit before lifting his vial to his lips, thoughtfully.
Just a few seconds later, he spoke up. “To my first drink, and what I hope will be my last,” he cheered lightly, “bottoms up,” he said, and chugged down the bitter liquid right after.
With a content sigh, he leaned his head to the left, and when he felt the weight of someone else’s head on his, he turned. Slowly, steadily, and scared, he turned, to see what it was— who, it was. He was met with strands of lovely golden hair enveloping his face. He gasped, he smiled, he giggled, he went through every emotion of pure euphoria in a minute’s time. Finally, he buried his nose deep into his lover’s neck, and fell sound asleep.