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Having no soul was great. Really, he should have gotten rid of that useless thing years ago. Why did it take him so long? The freedom, both to go wherever he wanted and to operate as he wished without those pesky morals weightening him down. It was like being a swimmer for years wearing a lead vest, and then getting rid of it. The speed? The newfound flexibility? The ability to swim just a little lower than he ever dared and explore new depths of himself, sure in the knowledge that nothing could drag him completely under water, even if the price was that he wouldn't be going back to shore ever again?
It was a cheap price, for such a wonderful treasure.
If only his body wasn’t so fucking annoying.
The little girl in front of him had been crying for like half an hour, no signs of stopping. And Fucking Batman had conditioned him to the point where he was physically unable to leave a distressed child behind.
"Please, sir, don’t leave me alone!"
Fucking hell. "The police will be here soon, they’ll take care of everything."
The crying intensified.
Damn.
"What if I walk you all the way to the station?"
More crying.
"Your parents? You have those, right? I could take you home, just give me five minutes to figure out where do you live…"
Shit, was that snot? His hand twitches and then thrusts forward, impulsively using the sleeve to clean her face. Disgusting.
"What do you want from me?", he ends up asking, close to feeling as distressed as she was out of sheer exasperation.
That seemed to put a halt to the water fest.
"I d-on’t have a family", her pouting mouth trembled, and instinct drove his arm around her shoulders, desperately trying to prevent her from crying again; he was aware his stupid, overly conditioned body wouldn't allow him to walk away from this child if she continued like this. "Don’t want to go to orphanage or streets!", she wailed again at the end of the sentence, speech notably deteriorating in her anguish.
Was there a way to tell her ‘I don’t care’ without making her even sadder? Before someone came along and found him?
Tim could hear the police sirens coming closer, attracted to their location by the high wall of flames eating up at the warehouse. He had spent a good chunk of the night dismantling this human trafficking ring, deeply rooted in Greece but with smaller bases all over Europe, taking care to evac both the unconscious thugs and the victims before blowing it all to hell. It was hard as fuck, specially considering he couldn’t let anyone get a good look at his face, least they gave the authorities a good enough description of him to warrant the Bat’s attention.
This little girl was not only making him lose time, she was also threatening the secret of his existence both by keeping him on a spot where he could be easily seen, and by making him stay still long enough to see his face perfectly. Sure, such a small kid wouldn't be able to give a very good description, but any risk, small as it was, was more than he wanted to deal with.
Fuck it all to hell. He was tired. Figuring it all in the morning made perfect sense.
"If I take you with me, will you stop crying?"
A hiccup and a nod was all he needed to take the girl in his arms and disappear into the night.
----.----
"What about a church? Children think churches are safe places, right?", he asks her over breakfast a few hours later. He was also sure there were thousands of those in Italy, which was his next destination, so he could very well drop her there.
The little girl looked up at him from under her lashes, light green eyes squinting in distaste and a little sadness she was forcing herself to hide. "I don’t like churches. Mama…", she swallowed hard, which Tim feared would bring tears later on, "mama used to say people trust churches too much, without… uhm, ‘reasons’, she said. And that I shouldn't trust anyone I haven’t met."
Grateful she was doing an effort not to cry, he didn’t push. The last thing he needed was the eight year old remembering her late mother and crying again.
Mathea, eight years old. Kidnapped from the city of Seres in Greece, where her mother had moved them both a month ago with hopes for a better life after leaving her abusive marriage behind. No other relatives, and he couldn't drop the child with a violent father. No doubt some internalized trauma after seeing her mother being murdered trying to keep her from being kidnapped, and the subsequently time in capture, waiting with other children at the warehouse for their fates to arrive. Except it had been derailed by Tim’s intervention.
He never regretted his body’s dependence on doing good like now. He couldn't leave the girl just anywhere unless she agreed, which didn’t seem to be an option right now.
"What I do is dangerous", he told her, one last attempt at scaring her. "I hurt people that hurt others. I travel a lot. You’d be better off at an orphanage or something, living with other children and going to class."
She looked at him with far too intelligent eyes. "You could teach me. ‘seem more smart than any teacher."
"Smarter", he corrected, hating that he was proving her point. "I’m not a good teacher. I don’t have patience for it."
"I don’t think there’s a’ything you’re bad at. And we can learn together."
"I don’t have a soul", he finally threw, almost desperate to scare her away.
She just shrugged. "The men who took me an’ hurt mama had one, and they were monsters. I don’t care bout it."
He sighs. His body isn’t rebelling at the idea, and she seems determined. Whatever. He doesn’t care enough to look for the best option for her. She wants to follow him, okay, let her. She’ll give up and ask to leave soon enough.
----.----
"I want a computer", demands Mathea one morning, months into her forceful addition to Tim’s party of one. They are currently in Milan, where he’s taking care of a wayward assassin and she’s using the hotel’s amazing wifi to complete her online class, "for my birthday. It’s next week, you know. I’m turning nine."
"I’ll make sure to send you a postal", he replies, hand thrown over his eyes in a futile attempt to sleep. Her nagging grows less adorable and more annoying the older she gets. "I’m going to be in Moscu next week. Human experiments I need to stop."
Little less than a year ago, she would have gasped, maybe even cried at the idea. Nowadays, child trafficking seemed the only thing to faze her.
"I’m going to cry."
"It won’t be effective so far away."
She harrumphs. Like a mule, which is how stubborn she could be.
"Yeah, whatever. If you miss my birthday, I’ll be very sad, and make you feel guilty as hell."
"I don’t feel anything."
"Maybe you don’t, but your body will give you hell for me. How does an entire night holding my hand and spoiling me sounds, huh? Cause we both know that’s what is going to happen if you do it."
"Why didn’t I just leave you in the warehouse", he whines, tired. A few hours of sleep, that’s all he’s asking.
A few moments of silence follow his statement, which is suspicious enough for him to remove his arm and open his eyes. She’s never that quiet, unless she’s planning something or…
Yeah, those are tears in her eyes. Fuck.
"You… do you mean it?"
A sigh.
"Come here, brat. Of course I didn’t. We both know I can’t do something like that."
She goes willingly, slipping into the mattress by his side and resting her head on his shoulder, cuddling closer like she does when nightmares hound her.
"It’s...it’s going to be my first birthday without mom. I just… don’t want to be alone."
He tries to keep his mouth closed, fighting against the impulse to soothe her. He loses miserably.
"You can come to Russia with me. We can go sightseeing after I’m done with my business and eat out somewhere, as a birthday treat."
Something lightens in her face.
"And my computer?"
A sigh. "I guess it’d be good to throw the one you have out. To avoid being tracked down, of course. Not because you’re a spoiled brat."
----.----
When Thea arrived to the restaurant, her hair a golden mess and frazzled green eyes, Tim was instantly on high alert.
He had left her by the park with instructions on how to find him, as a lesson on both tracking and independence at navigating the streets. Now he wonders if leaving the ten year old alone in Buenos Aires had been a good idea.
"What happened?"
She sat across from him, face instantly relaxing in the comfort and safety he always seemed to bring her.
"Nothing, just… a drunk idiot saying stuff. I lost him a couple streets ago, but…"
His back tenses, and he has to consciously refrain from going out on a manhunt. Well, at least now he knows what is he gonna be doing that night when Thea sleeps.
"We are doubling your self defense lessons starting tomorrow."
He might not want her around most of the time, but she was, and that made her his responsibility.
She smiled, bright and relieved, and something twisted in his gut. He didn’t, couldn’t, love her. Not without a soul.
But if he did? Gods, it was already bad enough, how much he liked her, how desperate he was to keep her safe. If he added love to the equation, he would be a total mess.
Being soulless proved, once again, to be the best decision he ever made.
----.----
"Tim. Tim. Tim. Tim. Tim."
"What. The fuck. Do you need. At three in the fucking morning?"
"You have to go out and buy me something."
"What the…", a groan as the man sat on the bed, arms behind him holding his tired body. "Why is the bathroom light on?"
Thea clutched the sheets of Tim’s bed tighter, the other hand still on his shoulder where she shook him into wakefulness, but didn’t sit by his side, which spoke for itself.
"Fuck. Don’t tell me…?"
"Yeah. Apparently, my time has come. Can you…?"
Another groan, this one whinier. "I’m going, I’m going. Don’t sit anywhere, I do want my deposit back when we leave this hotel."
"Be fast, then."
Half an hour later, the un-masked vigilante returned, pharmacy bag in hand. Moodily throwing it in her general direction, he face planted his bed.
"There. Painkillers, pads, tampons and chocolate. I’m going back to sleep. And this time, don’t wake me up unless there’s a killer in the room."
"...you mean, besides Pru?"
"Shh, you know you aren’t supposed to know about her shadowing us. It makes Ra’s ansty when he knows we know."
"...Aren’t you going to congratulate me or anything? I hear that’s what parents do to their twelve year olds when they go through this for the first time."
"First of all, I’m not your parent, and you are not my twelve year old. You are just a twelve year old that follows me around against my will. Second, I may be soulless, but not heartless enough to tell you to be happy about something that will bring you little else than pain every month for like fifty years. Periods sucks, and so do pregnancies. Why would I congratulate you? Put on a pad and go to bed now. We need to be out of town by eleven tomorrow."
"You are the human version of period cramps."
"Now you can knowledgeably use that phrase. Bet you’re delighted."
"Almost unbearably. Go back to sleep, idiot. I like you better when you’re unconscious."
----.----
"Why can’t I go with you?", she asks, but it sounds more like a tantrum.
"Stop that, you are not nine anymore. And minors are not allowed in that bar."
"So I use my fake id, big deal."
"You are not going there. It’s illegal."
"Excuse me, is this coming from the man who I had to prevent from tattooing “fuck the law” on his right buttcheek that time he got wasted?"
"You know damn well I might not follow certain laws, but others are fucking carved into me. Children drinking is one of those things my gut doesn’t want to take part on. You don’t like it, do as other teens and run away."
"Fuck you, you aren’t getting rid of me that easily."
"Then be a good little girl and wait for me at the hotel."
"I’m fifteen!"
"You still get tired after two hours of training, and cry whenever you watch Lilo and Stitch."
"Because you are a slave driver! I’ve gotten less hurt in fights against people twice my size than training with you. And excuse me for having a soul, jackass."
"Apology accepted. Put on your pajamas again and go to bed. And by the time I’m back, I want that skirt reduced to ashes."
"What’s wrong with my skirt?"
"When you learn how to fight in it without flashing everyone and their mother, or alternatively can fight with it without getting distracted by embarrassment, you can use whatever you want. Until then, there’s your onesie."
"It’s called a kigurumi."
"A grown up onesie, whatever."
"The jerk store called, they’re running out of you."
"I would love to insult you back, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t do as well as nature did."
"I hate you so much."
"Uh huh. Right back at you."
"Ugh. Bring me pizza when you’re done with that gang?"
A small smile. A hand messing blond curls up.
"Only if you behave while I’m gone, brat."
----.----
The base was big, and so luxurious. Everyone bowed to her or kept out of her way, which she liked even more. The food was amazing, the teachers provided to her the top of the top, and the library was to die for.
She wasn’t happy Tim was hurt again, but there was no denying the benefits it brought.
"Dude, you have the best sugar daddy ever."
Besides her, getting his own massage, he opened his eyes to glare.
"Ra’s is not my sugar anything. We are merely business partners; as in, I stay out of his business, he provides me with hearty income. You know this already."
Thea shook her head.
"Tim, there’s business deals, and there’s winning and dinning. This man wants a piece of you so badly it's not even funny. Sugar- Daddy."
"How do you even know that term, you’re like twelve."
"Excuse you, I’m fifteen."
"Maybe physically, but you aren’t ever going past the ‘damn brat’ stage until you can go back to sleep after a nightmare without sneaking into my bed."
"Shut up, no one asked. Hey, your sugar daddy offered me a class in stealing, can I take it? He says he has an expert around to give me lessons."
"Go for it, but if it ends up with you trying to touch my stuff, I’m leaving you here."
----.----
When Thea is sixteen, Tim turns twenty four, and she decides to give him the gift she has kept under lock and key ever since they met.
She knows about his past, because he never cared enough to hide it. She knows about his friends and family, because Conner keeps showing up, both to stalk Tim and to tell her the wildest stories of their youth. She knows about his soul, because that man, Damian, often takes it out when he visits them, face pained and desperate.
She feels guilty it took her this long. Because all this time, all this years, she had the key to bring their Tim back. She had the answers, the only one with a shot at it.
But she didn’t, because soulless Tim is the one she grew up with. The one who protected her, who carted to her needs and whims. The one who made her feel safe, even after all the cruelness she witnessed following him around.
She loves this Tim. Because this Tim, the one without a soul, loves her as well. It seems impossible, a paradox, but she knows it's true. Knows it with all her heart.
The love, the trust, the certainty of their bond, all are encompassed in the necklace she offers him on his twenty fourth birthday. The silver chain contrasting beautifully with the fluorite looking soul, shaped as a T. For Tim and Thea.
He looks at her, and there’s resignation in his eyes. Not the hate she was expecting.
"If I take this… I’ll feel. I’ll want my soul back. We’d need to go to Gotham for it; no more world trotting, no more ‘us against the world’. Are you sure this is what you want, Thea?"
She swallows, hard. She doesn’t want it to end, but the idea of standing between him and his best self is unbearable.
"As long as you take me with you, I don’t care who you are or how do you act. But you can’t leave me behind. I won’t allow it."
He smiles, warm even without his soul, even without hers, and she fears she’s going to lose it the moment his fingers touch the necklace. But she has to do this. He has rescued her, time and time again, since they met so many years ago. He has helped her build herself from the ground, protecting and guiding, and the least she can do in return is help him get himself back.
Even saving him from a soulless existence doesn’t seem enough in comparison to all he’s done for her, reluctant or not, but that’s alright. She has the rest of her life to help her brother be happy.
But she needs to start now.
It must show in her eyes, because his smile becomes softer, an edge she hadn't noticed was there finally removed. The last line of defense gone down.
"You damn brat", he sighs, taking the necklace with shaking fingers, the emotions coursing through him instantly bringing tears to his eyes.
That’s alright too, she’s crying as well.
Because even before he touched the soul, even before he regained the ability to feel… the ‘Damn brat’ sounded heartbreakingly close to ‘I love you’.
There was an unbidden beauty, to being loved by someone without a soul.
"I love you, too. You jackass."