Chapter Text
“Nighthawks,” Tim said.
Bernard stepped closer to the painting, closer to Tim. Tim wasn’t sure when their hands had ended up intertwined, but now that he was aware of it, he never wanted to let go. “Very good looking blond boy in white inside counter,” he read off of the panel beside the painting, detailing Josephine Hopper’s notes on the artwork. “That’s me. Oh, look, it has you too - other figure, dark sinister.”
Tim elbowed him. “Shut up.” He couldn’t help but smile. He never could help it around Bernard. His face was beginning to hurt. He turned his attention back to the painting, to the diner and the people and the deserted city street. “I don’t know why I like this painting so much. There’s just something about it.”
Bernard made a face. “I’m not a big fan. It just feels kind of eerie. Lonely.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Tim squeezed Bernard’s hand and looked closer at the man hunched over the counter, his face tilted away from the painter’s prying eyes. “I just...I get it.”
“I do too,” Bernard said. “That’s why I’m not a fan.”
The sky had been a dull shade of gray all week, the air filled with a biting chill that promised snow on the horizon. While Tim and Bernard had been inside the art museum, the weather had finally given way, flurries twirling down to melt on the sidewalk. Tim glanced around as he stepped out into the cold. Bernard caught a glimpse of his face and laughed. That laugh. “Not a fan of snow?”
“It’s going to turn into slush by tomorrow.”
“It’s so pretty now, though,” Bernard said. “It’s like we’re in a snow globe.” He reached up and took Tim’s face in his hands. When he kissed him, Tim felt like he was burning from the inside out.
Eventually Bernard moved away, but Tim pulled him back in, kissing him again. Tim could feel him smiling against his lips. “Can I walk you home?” Tim said once they had finally separated.
Bernard shook his head. “Can’t today,” he said. “I have work.”
“Right,” Tim said. Bernard had started working at the front desk of one of Gotham’s more upscale hotels a few weeks ago, and there had barely been a day since where he hadn’t been busy. “And tomorrow?”
“I should be free.” Bernard brushed a strand of Tim’s hair behind his ear. “Why? Do you want to do something?”
“Yeah,” Tim said. “Come over.”
Bernard smirked. “To do what?”
“Whatever,” Tim said. He leaned in to kiss Bernard again. It was sometimes hard for him to stop touching Bernard, as if he would disappear if Tim looked away for too long. “Good luck at work.”
“Thanks,” Bernard said. Tim watched him as he walked off into the snow, until he was completely out of sight. There was something inside of Tim that wanted to follow him, leave his own footprints in the ones that Bernard had tracked behind him on the damp ground. Something about Bernard made him feel quiet - not the lonely, suffocating kind of silence, but the kind of peace that Tim would do anything for even a moment of. He made his thoughts slow down and his heartbeat feel steadier even when it was skipping beats at the sight of his smile.
A snowflake fluttered directly into his eye. Tim scowled, reaching up to rub it. He really did dislike snow.
Unfortunately for him, the downfall only got thicker as the day went on. By the time night fell, the streets were nearly completely covered, the streetlamps’ pale yellow light appearing somehow brighter against the stark white snow. The cold seemed to be keeping the criminals at bay - you could try to fight Batman and Robin, but the weather was a force few could win against.
Tim might not be able to win that fight, but he could at least coexist with the opposing force. He had learned long ago how not to slip off of roofs even in the frostiest conditions, and his suit was insulated enough that the chill wasn’t too terrible. Still, he considered calling it an early night. He had barely slept in the last few days - everything was either too loud or too quiet, too dark or too bright. He wasn’t looking forward to another night of constantly tossing and turning, praying for sleep to take him, but he dreaded the alternative to not getting any rest at all even more.
He was moving on autopilot tonight. It took him a moment to realize where he was, and even then, it took him a moment to place it. It was the soft glow of LED lights from dorm room windows that did it, the silhouettes of people still moving and talking and working despite the late hour. Tim’s patrol routes rarely took him anywhere near Gotham University. He had never seen the campus from this angle before.
In another life, that could have been him. Worried about homework instead of constantly looking over his shoulder for...for, well, anything. Or maybe he wouldn’t be worried about anything at all. Maybe he would have been one of those students that didn't seem to have a care in the world, friends with everyone, able to find success and hope without even really trying.
But there was no point in dwelling on a version of himself that never even got the chance to live before he died.
Tim had been standing still for so long that snow had begun to coat his cape, white over black. He stood, his hand hovering over his grappling hook.
And that was when he heard the scream. It wasn’t the kind of scream that you’d expect to hear on a college campus, not a shriek of laughter or a raucous, cheerful yell. No, this was a sound that Tim knew all too well. This was terror.
He whipped his head around, looking at the buildings surrounding him. There, at the top of a staircase between two buildings, a small figure huddled against a curb, cowering away from seemingly nothing. Tim was on the ground in an instant, his hand on his staff as he made his way carefully towards the individual.
As he got closer, he could pick out more and more details - the girl’s dark skin, her hot pink curls. She wore a slightly too-large hoodie with the logo of the Gotham University Nighthawks emblazoned across the back (in spite of himself, Tim thought of Bernard and almost smiled). She was curled into a ball, her face pressed against her knees as a faint tremor ran through her entire body. “Excuse me?” Tim said gently. “Is everything…”
With a loud gasp, the girl lifted her head. Tim’s heartbeat stuttered. Her pupils were blown out, the whites of her eyes seeming brighter than they naturally would be. Her skin was pale, tinged almost blue despite the warm glow of the streetlights. Overall something just felt unnatural, felt wrong .
It took Tim a moment to realize that she was speaking. “Robin?” she said, so softly that he could barely hear her. He focused on her face again - the pallor was gone, her eyes completely returned to normal. She looked real. She looked human.
He blinked a few times, trying to remember how to breathe. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, that’s me. Is everything okay? I heard you scream.”
She shuddered again, her gaze going back to the snow-covered stairs below them. “I think...no, I know something attacked me,” she whispered.
Tim’s grip tightened on his staff. “Did you see which way they went?”
She shook her head. “No. It wasn’t...it wasn’t a person.”
Tim frowned, trying to ignore the chill creeping down his spine. “What do you mean?”
The girl looked up again, but still didn’t meet his eyes, instead staring up towards the clouds, the still-falling snow. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know, it…it touched me.”
Tim knelt down, getting on eye-level with her. “ Touched you?” It was then that he noticed that the girl’s hand hadn’t moved, had been clamped over the same spot on her neck for the entire time that he had been speaking to her. He could see something poking out from under the edges of her hand. “Hey, could you move your hand?”
She hesitated, and then slowly let go of her neck. Tim stifled a gasp at the sight of it - there was a thick layer of frost affixed to her skin, arranged in the shape of a handprint.
The girl glanced over at him, her eyes widening at the sight of his expression. “Is it that bad?” she asked.
Tim fought to keep his voice steady. “It doesn’t look too terrible,” he said. “You might need some medical attention, though.”
She was shaking her head before he even finished his sentence. “No,” she said in a choked voice. “No hospitals.”
“Okay,” Tim said. “Okay, no hospitals.” She let out a shaky breath, closing her eyes for a second. “Do you live on campus?”
She shook her head again. “No.”
“Anywhere close by?”
“Um, I’m staying at the Prism Youth Center. I don’t know if you know where -”
Tim nodded. “No, I know it.” Prism had always been in Tim’s peripheral vision long before he knew exactly why he was so fascinated with it. It was Gotham’s only center for LGBTQ+ youth, offering programs and safe housing for anyone that needed it. He had walked by it a few times when he was younger and always picked up his pace, refusing to let himself think about what was drawing him to it. It hadn’t entered his mind much at all recently, or maybe he was just falling back on old habits and refusing to let it into his head. “Can I walk you back there?"
The girl nodded slowly, reaching up towards the railing on one side of her and pulling herself to her feet. Tim stood as well, facing her. “Can I get your name?”
“Mikaela,” she said.
“Mikaela,” Tim replied. “Hi. I think you already know my name.”
A quick smile flashed across her face. “Yeah, I do.” She crouched down to pick her bag up off of the snow-covered pavement where it had fallen. She froze as she stood back up, staring at a spot just ahead of her. “It was there,” she said quietly.
“Did you see something?” Tim asked.
She shook her head. “Not now. But. Earlier. It was like a shadow jumped out of the ground and...I would think it was just a trick of the light if I hadn’t felt it touch me.” Seemingly unconsciously, her hand went back up to the mark on her neck, brushing lightly against it.
Tim stared at the spot where Mikaela had said that the shadow had been. It looked like nothing, just another mound of snow, but he knew by now that nothing was usually more like something . “Come on,” he said finally. “Let’s get you home.”
Prism was only a few blocks away from Gotham U, but the trek felt much longer in the snow and the silence. Finally, they arrived at a nondescript brick building, a limp, frost-covered pride flag dangling next to the door. “Around the back,” Mikaela murmured, the first sound that she had made since leaving campus. “I have -”
The door swung open, and a woman stepped out. She stopped in her tracks at the sight of the pair in front of her. “Mikaela? Is that you?”
“Jaine?” Mikaela said. “Why are you still here?”
“Got caught up with some paperwork, you know how it is -” Jaine frowned, moving closer to Mikaela. Mikaela looked away from her as she studied the mark on her neck. “Come on inside, Mik,” she said after a moment, her voice hushed.
Mikaela shook her head. “I don’t want to keep you here so late -”
“I’m already here,” Jaine assured her. “It’s completely okay. Come on.” She held the door open, letting Mikaela come through. Her gaze landed on Tim for the first time. “You too,” she said forcefully.
Tim froze. He had planned on going home, was about to turn around. But something about this woman and her cold stare was difficult to refuse.
He stepped inside.
He barely took a moment to look around until he got to Jaine’s office. The room was small but warm, the walls painted a soothing green and an array of plants growing on the shelves and by the window where Tim stood. Mikaela sat on the couch, pressing a warm cloth to her neck. On the other side of the room, a large fish tank bubbled softly in the background as Jaine spoke. “Does it hurt?”
“A little,” Mikaela said. “Mostly it just feels cold.” She adjusted the cloth just enough for Tim to see underneath it. The handprint had gotten a little less prominent, but there was no mistaking what it was. Cold still seemed to radiate from it just by looking at it.
“But you do feel it?” Jaine said. “It’s not numb at all?”
Mikaela shook her head. “Nope.”
Jaine frowned. “It doesn’t look like frostbite,” she said. “At least not any case that I’ve ever seen. But still, Mik, keep an eye on it. If it’s any worse in the morning, talk to me or Marcus or whoever else is around, okay?”
“I will,” Mikaela promised. “I’m...I’m really, really tired. I’m going to head back to my room now.”
“Of course,” Jaine said. “Can I walk you there?”
Mikaela nodded, standing up. Jaine glanced over her shoulder at Tim. “Hey, don’t leave yet,” she said, someone managing to notice that he was planning on slipping out of the window as soon as they were gone. “There’s a few things I want to discuss with you.”
“Um, okay,” Tim said, not really sure how to respond. Jaine smiled a tight smile and left the room with Mikaela.
Tim glanced around the office. There were a few framed degrees hanging over the desk - a bachelor’s in psychology, a master’s in counseling. A trans pride flag sat in a coffee cup filled with pens on the desktop, and a collection of children’s drawings hung on the very front of the desk.
Tim stepped closer to the tank lining the opposite side of the room. The creature huddled beneath the plants inside of it tilted its head as he approached, looking up at him with wide eyes.
“That’s Batman.”
Tim glanced over at the entrance to see Jaine leaning against the doorframe, watching him. “You named your axolotl...Batman?”
“One of the kids here named him.” Jaine walked over to the tank, wiggling her fingers over the water. Batman followed them, swimming up to greet her. “Do you know much about axolotls?”
“I know a little,” Tim said. “They can regenerate their limbs, right?”
Jaine nodded. “They’re pretty incredible creatures. It’s not just their limbs, either - their eyes, their hearts. Even parts of their brain. They study them at Gotham University and adopt them out, that’s where I got Batman. The noise from his filter is good for not being overheard from the hall. That, and he’s good company.”
Tim kept his eyes on the axolotl as he spoke. “Have you been working here for long?”
“About seven years,” Jaine said. “I started right when I graduated from college. Right around the same time that you first showed up, Boy Wonder."
Tim frowned. “It feels like it’s been a lot longer than that,” he said after a moment.
“I can imagine,” said Jaine. “Or, at least, I can try to. It’s not a life I can easily picture myself living.”
“I can’t see myself doing anything else,” Tim said.
Jaine glanced over at him. “Today, with Mikaela. What exactly happened?”
Tim shrugged. “I’m honestly not that sure. I heard her scream, and by the time I got to her, all I could see was that mark on her neck. She was terrified, but she couldn’t really describe to me what had happened.”
“Were you scared?”
Tim frowned. “What?”
“Were you scared?” Jaine repeated. “You said that Mikaela was, but how did you feel?”
Tim shrugged. “Not really,” he said. “I didn’t see anything that happened. I just wanted to make sure that she was okay.”
In his mind’s eye, he saw Mikaela, the way she looked when she first met his gaze - the wide eyes, the pallor in her cheeks, the handprint on her neck blindingly white against her skin. For a split second, she hadn’t looked human, as if some other entity had latched onto her fear and stumbled into her mind. For longer than a second, Tim’s heartbeat had quickened, and his throat had closed up, forcing him to speak around the tight feeling in his chest. The same way he was speaking now.
“I don’t really have time for fear,” he said, more to himself than to Jaine. “I just...I need to push past it. Make sure that I’m as focused as possible. Being scared really gets in the way of that.”
Jaine nodded, her lips drawn into a line. Tim glanced over his shoulder at the window. The snow was beginning to fall even more rapidly, the fat flakes visible in the glow from the streetlights. “I should probably get going,” he said.
“Before you leave…” Jaine reached over and picked something up off of her desk. “If you ever need to talk to someone - as Robin, or as anyone else - here’s my card. I’m not pressuring you one way or another. Just letting you know that I’m here if you need me.”
Tim stared down at the card that she had handed him. Jaine Santos. Prism Youth Center, Gotham. 555-0810. “Thank you,” he managed to say.
Part of him wanted to crumble up the card and forget that he had ever seen it. But he found that he couldn’t let go.
The hallway, illuminated by fluorescent ceiling lights that reminded Tim of high school, felt eerie in the way that all public spaces did after a certain hour. His footsteps barely made any noise, and yet they still seemed too loud in the hushed atmosphere.
Another pair of footsteps joined them. He looked over to see Mikaela stepping out into the hall, dressed in pajamas with her hair wrapped up in a towel. The handprint was no longer as vibrant, but the discoloration on her skin was still uncomfortably visible. Tim dragged his eyes away from it. “Feeling better?” he asked.
Mikaela nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “Um...thanks. For everything.”
Tim smiled, the expression teetering somewhere between too fake and too real. “I’m just glad you’re safe,” he said. “You’re sure you don’t know what it was that you saw?”
“That’s the thing, I didn’t see anything ,” Mikaela said. “At least nothing that seemed real. It was just…” She shook her head helplessly. “A cold feeling? But it was more than that. It was like something grabbed me by the throat. Maybe I’d think it was nothing, but…” She gestured towards the mark on her neck. Tim’s stomach twisted.
“I’ll look into it,” he promised. “And if you remember anything else, or if you need anything else, I’ll be around.”
“I’ll keep an eye out,” Mikaela said. “Have a good night.”
“You too.”
Tim was nearly to the exit when he next heard her speak. “Hey.”
He nearly turned around before he heard someone else respond. “Hi. Is everything okay? I heard that something went down tonight.” A shiver went down Tim’s spine. There was something about that voice that made him take notice.
“It’s all good now. There’s always something, you know?”
The other person laughed. “Right. That’s Gotham for you. Can’t say it’s not boring.”
That laugh.
Tim glanced over his shoulder at the sound of a door closing. Mikaela was gone, the other speaker the only one left in the hallway. He ran a hand through his blond hair, looking down the hall in Tim’s direction. His eyes widened as he met his gaze.
Bernard. His name was on Tim’s lips. But before he could say it, Bernard was turning away from him, disappearing without a word back into the same room that he had come out of. The door slammed shut and Tim was surrounded by a ringing silence. The kind of silence that hurt.
Outside, the snow was falling faster and faster.