Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Thursdays were always slow.

For reasons unknown to Tim, no one ever scheduled order pick ups on Thursdays, and foot traffic in his shop was practically nonexistent. It was why he’d talked Bruce into rescheduling all of their council meetings for Thursdays, and why he spent most of the day tinkering away in his workshop rather than manning the till.

Maybe Thursdays were just cursed. Tim had never read anything on the subject, but nearly all his customers were the sensitive kind. They could feel the currents of magic in the world like wind against their skin— the ones that had skin, that was. Maybe on Thursdays that wind was just a little too harsh and that’s why they all kept to themselves.

If that was the case, Tim wouldn’t know. He was the best magical shopkeeper in Gotham, but he was still only human. He could crack open as many books as he wanted, but in the body he had now, he was perpetually doomed to be nothing more than a tourist in the world of magic.

Luckily, Tim was very used to making himself at home in places he wasn’t wanted. Human or not, he had a job to do, and he did it well. Which was why, at eleven pm on a Thursday, he was still in the back of his shop, ensconced on all sides by ingredients and grimoires. The front of his shop was warmly lit and invitingly cluttered to best encourage impulse buys, but the back was pristine. In Tim’s workshop, everything had a place and everything was in its place. It wouldn’t do to have an accident.

Sometimes people came to Tim with special requests for Big Magic— the sort that messed with souls, minds, time, or any other Big Thing— and Tim was happy to oblige on a limited basis, but it wasn’t what he loved. At heart, Tim was a tinkerer, and he preferred the little things. A leaf enchanted to fight off hangovers. A bag charmed to hold a hundred times its apparent volume. Nail polish that changes color with the time of day. All things that melded together magic and mundanity. It was the very basis of Tim’s shop.

Today, Tim was working on something new. A pen that, when complete, would record anything said in its presence in the handwriting of the speaker. He was just testing it— “My name is Timothy Dra— I don’t dot my i’s with hearts— ” when a sound like an elephant falling flat from two stories shattered his concentration.

Tim startled, jumping nearly out of his skin as his head whipped around to the curtain that led out to the floor of his shop. “Who’s there?” he called, immediately cringing to himself. Way to go Timmy. You’d be the first to die in a horror movie.

“Tim? Tim, is that you?”

Instantly the tension left Tim’s shoulders. He knew that voice.

“I’m coming back!” Kon called.

In the scant seconds he had to collect himself, he ran his fingers quickly through his hair to force it into some kind of order and remembered to straighten the tie at his throat. He liked to look presentable for council meetings, but the all consuming focus of creating in his workshop had since then set his appearance somewhat awry.

He was just shifting his posture to lean casually against his work table when Kon came barreling through the curtain like a bull in a china shop. He looked wind swept, his shirt inside out and his shoes on the wrong feet. The sun had gone down hours ago, but Kon didn’t look the slightest bit tired. His eyes were wide and wild. Scared.

A stone dropped in Tim’s stomach.

“What happened?”

“They’re gonna kill me,” Kon said. All of the energy and movement seemed to have fled him the moment he laid eyes on Tim, leaving him standing stock still in the entryway to Tim’s workshop. His expression was as hollow as his voice.

“Who’s going to kill you?” Tim asked, forcing his own tone into an approximation of calm. Whoever it was, he would strangle them with his bare hands before letting them touch Kon, but the angel didn’t need to know that.

Kon looked at him, but it felt more like being looked through. Tim didn’t think Kon was seeing him at all. “The Triumvirate,” he said.

Strangling was out then.

Quickly, Tim rounded the table still between them and took Kon firmly by the arm, guiding him as gently as he could to a chair in the corner. Kon sank onto it without protest.

“You better start from the beginning,” he said.

For the first time, Kon looked him in the eye. His expression was pained, his brow scrunched up with worry. Tim wanted to press his thumb there and smooth it out for him, but he held himself back. Now wasn’t the time for foolish fantasies. His friend needed him. Still, he forced himself to back away until he could lean against the solid metal of his work table. Better safe than sorry when it came to the temptation that was Kon-El.

“You’re going to be angry with me,” Kon said.

“I won’t,” Tim replied immediately, but quickly thought better of it. “Okay, I might be, but I’ll still help you fix it. I promise.”

Kon smiled at him wanly— a minor victory. “It’s pretty bad.”

“I’m sure I’ve heard worse.”

Groaning, Kon put his head in his hands, his whole body slumping over in a long curve of defeat. Tim waited.

“My wings,” he said at last. “I went to check on them today, but they’re gone.”

Huh. Tim had heard worse, but only barely.

“What do you mean gone?” he asked, more sharply than he meant to.

“I mean gone,” Kon snapped back, momentarily regaining a bit of life. “I went to do my monthly check on them this afternoon, and they weren’t there any more. Not even a feather. I searched everywhere and I can’t find them— they’re just gone.”

“Fuck,” Tim breathed.

He’d done the math once. When Kon had first fallen, and they were in the gray area between allies and friends, Tim had run the numbers and calculated that just one feather from Kon’s wings could power all of Gotham for a week, and that was the least creative use of the angelic grace contained within it. In the hands of a skilled witch… they could do just about anything.

“I didn’t lose them, I swear. They’ve been in the same place since I fell, and it’s not like I had a whole lot of reason to move them. Someone must have taken them,” Kon said.

Tim’s brain was already whirring with the possibilities. “That’s a long list of suspects,” he said, starting to pace.

Kon groaned in despair.

“I said long not impossible,” Tim reassured him hastily. “We’ll find them.”

“How?” Kon asked. “It’s not like we can go asking around. If word gets out they’re missing, the Triumvirate is going to kill me— not to mention all the people who’ll jump on the trail right along with us. I don’t want to play hot potato with the only part of me that’s still worth a damn.”

Tim looked at him sharply. “Don’t say shit like that.”

Kon’s eyes widened with surprise, but Tim wasn’t sure if it was at himself for letting that slip out, or at Tim for the vehemence of his reply. “Sorry,” Kon mumbled after the moment had lingered a couple seconds too long.

Tim looked away and returned to his pacing.

As much as he hated to admit it, everything else Kon said had some merit. His standing with the Triumvirate was shaky at best. His fall had been entirely unplanned and, to say the least, poorly executed. The angels that had come before him— Kal-El and Kara Zor-El— hadn’t even fallen at all so much as strutted down a red carpet to bestow their magnificence upon humanity. Which was to say, they’d both been sent to Earth intentionally and eventually made the Heavenly-sanctioned choice to stay after they fell in love with it.

According to the popular story, Kon had just decided to up and leave one day, completely abandoning his duties. He’d fallen not just from Heaven, but completely out of it’s grace. His wings had gone dark when his connection to Heaven’s ideals snapped like a thread stretched too far. They’d said it was because he’d turned his back on love altogether.

Kal-El had wanted to exile him the moment he touched down on earth, but Diana and Bruce had both counselled caution. The only thing worse than a rogue and unpredictable angel was a rogue and unpredictable angel that you couldn’t keep your eye on. Kal-El had folded in the end, and Bruce had bestowed the task of watching Kon to Tim. It was a decision he would come to regret as it was, in all likelihood, going to cost him his son in only a matter of weeks.

But that was a problem for later. Right now, Tim’s focus was on Kon and getting his wings back. Everything else could wait.

“If the Triumvirate finds out you lost the magical equivalent of a nuclear bomb, there’s no telling what they’ll do,” Tim muttered to himself, still pacing. “So, we’ll just have to get them back before that happens.”

“We?” Kon asked. He was watching Tim carefully, tracking his slow steps out of the corner of his eye as if by not moving his head, he could hide the fact that he was staring altogether.

Tim paused and looked over at Kon. “Yes, we. I told you I was going to help, didn’t I?”

“You could get in a lot of trouble for not immediately reporting me,” Kon pointed out neutrally. He still wasn’t looking at Tim directly, and something about his sudden calm was deeply unsettling.

“Don’t be an idiot. I may be on Bruce’s council, but I’m not his pawn. I can make decisions for myself, and I’ve already decided I’m not going to turn you in. Now, will I be saving your feathery ass on my own, or are you going to help?”

Kon blinked at him, surprised. “Um… yes? I mean— yes. Of course I’m helping.” He looked adorably confused at this sudden turning of the tables.

“Good,” Tim said, happy to move on as quickly as possible. “Where did you last see them?”

Kon blanched. “You’re not going to like this either.”

“It’s not like it could get much worse,” Tim said, pinching the bridge of his nose in a fruitless bid for patience. “Where did you hide them?”

“... In my apartment.”

He took it back. He never should’ve doubted Kon’s power to make a situation more difficult for him.

“What the fuck, Kon.”

“I know, I know!” Kon said, scrubbing his hands over his face. “In my defense, I had a lot going on in those first few months. I didn’t know enough about Earth to find a better hiding place, and I guess I thought they’d be safest where I could protect them. Obviously that backfired.”

Tim’s head felt like it was spinning as he put the pieces together. “So you’re telling me that not only did someone steal your wings, but they were also in your home, and somehow you didn’t notice for a month?”

“We don’t know that’s how long they’ve been gone.”

“But that was the last time you checked.”

Kon just looked tired. It was all Tim could do to stop himself from going over to comfort him. “Yeah.”

“Why?” Tim asked, suddenly curious. “If I were in your position— well, first of all I would’ve hidden them a lot better— but I definitely would’ve checked on them more regularly. If they were really just under my bed, I would’ve checked on them every night. Twice a day, even.”

Despite the fact that Kon hadn’t been looking at him for some minutes now, Tim felt for the first time that his friend was deliberately avoiding his eyes. “I just… I wanted to forget that they were there.”

It felt, quite abruptly, as if there was a gulf between them.

“Why?” Tim asked, and his voice came out soft. He hadn’t meant it to, but the guarded expression on Kon’s face begged no other tone, and if Tim was being completely honest, it was a constant uphill battle not to be soft with Kon. Something about the angel made every single one of Tim’s hard edges feel like an ill-fitting cloak, threatening to slip off his shoulders at any moment.

Kon picked at a thread on the torn knee of his jeans. They were old and threadbare, and suddenly it occurred to Tim for the first time that he must have bought them that way. Kon hadn’t been on Earth long enough to wear out a pair of jeans, even if he wore them damn near every single day. The same went for his studded leather jacket.

“I don’t miss it, y’know,” he said after the silence had stretched long enough that Tim had started to think he wasn’t going to say anything at all. “When I first fell, everyone talked to me and looked at me with all this… pity.” He huffed a humorless laugh. “Actually, it was mostly disgust, but pity was a close second.”

“They all thought you must’ve wanted to go back,” Tim supplied when Kon fell quiet.

Kon nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t think any of them really understood what that meant. All you earthlings— even the ones with grace in their blood— you’ve got a terribly misguided impression of what Heaven’s actually like.”

Slowly, careful not to spook him, Tim took a step forward. “What about Kal-El and Kara?”

“Oh they’re the worst of all,” Kon replied with a wry smile. “They were in Heaven, but our experiences just weren’t the same. Kal-El was the prodigal son. A golden boy, favored above all others, and Kara… well, it wasn’t quite as easy for her but she was respected and she fit in. Me? Not so much.”

There was no more holding out. No force on Earth was powerful enough just then to keep Tim from closing the distance between them and kneeling in front of Kon— not even his own will. The best Tim could do in the way of restraint was keep his hands to himself, and even that was a close thing. “And for you?” he asked.

Kon was bent over, his elbows on his knees and his gaze fixed on the middle of Tim’s chest. He looked about a thousand miles away. “I didn’t take well to following orders,” he said darkly.

Tim held very still. He wanted to press for more details, to make a long and meticulous list of everyone who had put that expression on Kon’s face and start ticking it off one by one until he’d faced god himself for the angel in front of him, but that wasn’t Tim’s place. His place was here.

Tim sighed, deliberately forcing calm through his body. Before he could think better of it, he tipped forward until his head bumped Kon’s, and he said, “Then you won’t ever have to again.”

He would’ve pulled away, but Kon was leaning into him before he could, resting their foreheads together properly. When he sighed, Tim could feel his breath ghosting over his cheek as the tension left the angel’s body.

“If I could’ve handled this on my own, I would’ve,” Kon confessed to the air between them. “I never wanted to drag you into this, but I don’t know what else I can do. I have no idea where to start looking, but you… you can do anything.” His voice was laced with certainty and no small amount of adoration. Like it had never even occurred to him that Tim wouldn’t be able to solve his problem, only that he might choose not to.

“I don’t know about anything,” Tim said with a pang in his chest. He pulled away before his heart exploded from their proximity. “But we are going to figure this out. I’ll make sure of it.”

Kon smiled at him, their faces still far too close for comfort. “Thank you,” he said simply.

Tim cleared his throat, hastily standing up. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll head over to your apartment and see what we’re dealing with first thing tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Kon asked uncertainly. He looked like he’d rather run all the way there than wait a second longer.

“Tomorrow,” Tim repeated. “It’s late, and we should both get some sleep. Nothing’s going to change overnight, and this’ll give me time to get a more coherent plan together anyway. I need to figure out what supplies I’ll need to gather and who will watch the shop and… ” he said this last part more to himself than Kon as he threw an assessing glance across his workshop.

“Uh, Tim?”

Tim hummed in question.

“Where am I supposed to sleep?”

It was exceedingly lucky that Tim was turned away from Kon just then, because his cheeks were on fire. Just for a moment, he let himself indulge in the fantasy.

With me, of course, he’d say, and it would be all he’d have to say. After that, there would be no more talking. Tim’s heart beat faster with the possibility of it. Intimacy trapped like a secret between their bodies and all wrapped up in warmth. What would it feel like to have the length of Kon pressed up against his back, enveloping him? To wake up next to him and see the silly faces he’d make early in the morning?

A shiver ran down Tim’s spine.

“I’ll make up the guest room for you,” he said instead, bending over to fiddle with some supplies on a low shelf.

“Thanks.”

Silently, Tim cursed himself for not making up some reason they’d have to share. Honesty would’ve been a step too far, but a manufactured bed scarcity? That he could have managed.

He shook himself. That would’ve been a terrible idea. He needed to actually sleep tonight thank you very much, and being unable to look Kon in the eye tomorrow morning wouldn’t be very conducive to spending the whole day together on a quest to find Kon’s wings, now would it.

“Think nothing of it.”

They said goodnight and separated just a few minutes later. As promised, Tim provided Kon with everything he needed to spend the night and sent him off without so much as an untoward glance at the low sling of his jeans.

His heart skipped a beat anyway when Kon shot him a sleepy grin over his shoulder and said: “‘Night.” Tim could get used to a sight like that.

The thing was, Tim didn’t think Kon would say no if he asked. He knew he wasn’t the only one who’d felt the electric current between them when their foreheads were pressed together, and he’d seen the way the angel’s eyes would linger now and then. The simmering heat in his gaze when they would stay out too late drinking. Like Kon would’ve prefered to stumble back to Tim’s bed rather than his own. Tim knew that Kon wasn’t uninterested— that had never been the problem.

The problem was that Tim fell too fast, and now it was too late. Maybe if they’d had more time he could’ve seduced Kon into bed and then taken his time building it out into a relationship. Hell, if he really had enough time, he could’ve waited. Asked Kon out on a proper date first.

But time was the one thing Tim had run out of, and no matter how glorious a couple weeks could be, that was all it could be. Tim was too in love to do that to either of them.

When he finally stumbled into bed, he found his phone on the dresser. He’d forgotten that it had died around lunch time and he’d had to take it upstairs to charge. He felt a stab of guilt at the twenty missed texts and three missed calls from Kon and wondered why the angel hadn’t brought them up.

And then he saw what else was waiting for him. A voicemail from his brother.

Dread pooled quietly in the pit of Tim’s stomach. He’d been trying not to think about it, but he knew he and Dick had left things in a bad place after the council meeting, and it was getting too close to the wire for them to keep doing that. Dick would never forgive himself if they were on bad terms when it happened, so Tim crawled into bed, curled up as tightly as he could under the covers, and pressed the phone to his ear.

“Hey, Timmy. It’s me. You’re probably busy with the shop right now, but if I’m being honest, I think that’s why I chose now to call you.”

Tim pulled the covers all the way over his head until he was sheltered in darkness and the glowing blue light from his phone screen. On the other end of the line, displaced by distance and time, Dick sighed like he’d already used up all of his tears.

“Look, Tim, I’m trying, but this is really fucking hard okay? You’re my little brother. Letting you do this goes against every instinct in my body and after Jason died I just— fuck. I’m sorry. You know better than anyone what we’re up against, and I didn’t call just to rehash everything we said at the council meeting.

“I called to say I’m sorry. Whatever I’m feeling, I know it’s a hundred times worse for you, and I haven’t been making this any easier. You were right, we’ve run out of time and options. And… and I understand why you’re doing this. You’re gonna save a lot of lives, Timmy. I just wish…

“I just wish it didn’t have to be goodbye.

“Fuck, okay. You don’t want to listen to your big brother cry, and my lunch break’s over soon anyway. I need to get back to the precinct and hound Jason about the shitty case files he’s been turning in. For a kid who used to love reading more than air, he can’t seem to write sentences longer than five words, but I guess a lot’s changed since then. I’d hoped Roy would be able to help him out, but if anything, I think those two enable each other.

“But you probably don’t want to hear about that either, huh? Sorry. I’m rambling. I’ll just… I’ll see you real soon, okay? Goodbye, Tim. I love you.”

The message ended there. Silently, Tim wiped at the tears in his eyes with the corner of his sheets. Then he held down the power button on his phone until it shut off completely, and laid very still until eventually sleep took him.

Chapter Text

“So, to recap, you and Kon— the incredibly attractive fallen angel who’s been sulking around your shop like a lost puppy since the day he met you, by the way— are going on a trip that requires me to watch the shop for a few days, but you can’t tell me why or where.”

There was no good answer to that, but luckily Stephanie Brown had always been of the opinion that the only bad answer was a boring one. Tim was guilty of a great many things today (lying, treason, and forgetting to water his begonias to name a few) but being boring wasn’t one of them.

“Yes, that about sums it up.”

Stephanie held onto her gently chiding expression for all of five seconds before it dissolved into a grin. Before Tim could react, he was being swept up into a bruising hug. “I’m so proud of you!” Stephanie exclaimed. “Baby’s first bone bender!”

Tim patted her back awkwardly, cheeks flaming. Hugs weren’t his strong suit in the best of times, now he felt a little like he might combust if she held on much longer. Carefully, he extricated himself from her grip and said, “I have a feeling that phrase means something very different in your world than in mine.”

“Sex retreat? Weekend fuck fest? Coitus commune— ”

Stephanie was cut off abruptly by her mouth suddenly sealing shut of its own accord. Or, rather, Tim’s own accord. The purple light fading from his fingertips was incriminating enough. Caught somewhere between amused and annoyed, Stephanie crossed her arms and tapped her foot. She stared at Tim pointedly, silently commanding him to lift the charm.

“Do you promise to stop listing synonyms for sex?” Tim asked chidingly.

Stephanie raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” He removed the charm anyway. If he didn’t, she’d just find her way around it, and seeing a shapeshifter grow a second mouth just to curse him out was not an experience Tim wished to repeat.

“Are you finally going to give me god-babies? Because I’m going to spoil the shit out of them,” Stephanie said when she could speak again, immediately making Tim regret ever having met her.

“Steph— “ he started to say, but she cut him off.

“I’m kidding, Tim.” There was a slight pause. Not hesitation— Stephanie Brown didn’t do hesitation— but rather a beat to let Tim’s hackles go down. “Sex jokes aside, I really am happy for you. You can deny it all you want, but the way you look at him— ”

Tim cut her off. “I know, Steph.” Try as he might to suppress it, there was pain in his voice. “But that doesn’t matter. Now, can you watch the shop or not?”

Stephanie sighed, glancing around at his shop. It was impossible not to notice how completely she didn’t belong in it. Stephanie was full of too much life to be confined to the dim and crowded shelves of Tim’s world. She needed open air and real light— the kind not even the best magic could replicate. Somedays, Tim found it a wonder that the two of them were friends at all, different as they were.

“Yeah, yeah. I didn’t have much planned anyway,” she said, running a finger along the nearest shelf and checking it for dust. She found none, of course. What was the point of magic if not to save Tim from his own allergies? “It’s not like it’s hard.”

The corners of Tim’s mouth twisted into a frown. “Now you’re making me nervous. Are you sure you know what to do?”

“And now you’re being insulting,” Stephanie replied. “Watch the till, open and close, lock the door. I’ve done this before, and it’s not all that complicated. You just like feeling smarter than everyone else.”

Tim let the barb slide. “You also have to be here for order pickups. I left a list in the back room, and they’re all filled already, so you’ve just got to take payment and hand them over.” He checked his watch. “The first pickup is in a few hours— a guy named Jaime Reyes.”

“The demon host?” Stephanie asked, interested for the first time since they stopped talking about Tim’s lack of a love life.

Tim gave her a warning look. “Not anymore. Don’t give him any grief over it okay? He’s a good guy. A private guy.”

Hands up in surrender, Stephanie agreed, “Okay, okay, I’ll behave. Can’t blame a girl for being curious.”

“This is a terrible idea. You’re going to scare off all my customers,” Tim muttered.

Stephanie’s smile gentled. “I don’t think even I’m capable of that. You’re the most talented witchling I’ve ever met, Tim. You’ll be running this place until the day you die.”

Tim kept his face carefully blank. “Of course.” In another life, it might have been the truth. He loved his shop. Aside from his friends, it was the best thing in his life, but in two weeks, that might not matter anymore. Very little might ever matter again.

He should have told her then. Stephanie had been his friend for years, and she was probably the person he was closest to in the world. She deserved to know. It was cruel of him to keep the truth from her when he could have given them both a chance to say a proper goodbye, but telling Stephanie would have made it real. Keeping it to himself felt like the last refuge Tim had left— his last chance at somehow waking up from the whole terrible ordeal as if from a nightmare.

And if that didn’t happen, well… Tim had already written a letter. She’d get it too late, but she’d have centuries to forgive him. And if she couldn’t, it wasn’t like that would bother Tim much after he’d ascended anyway.

Stephanie was frowning at him. “Tim, are you— ?” she started to ask, but abruptly cut off at the sound of steps echoing from the backroom.

They both turned to look as Kon emerged in all his leather jacketed glory from behind the curtain. His hair was still tousled with sleep, black curls not quite falling into line. Tim’s fingers itched to reach out and fix them for him.

“‘Mornin’,” he said, looking a little dazed.

Stephanie, the probable cause of his confusion, glanced at Tim with a knowing smirk. “Good morning to you too. Sleep well?”

It took every scrap of self control Tim had not to react. It felt like Stephanie had somehow reached into his mind and plucked out all the less than innocent thoughts he’d had as he set Kon up in the room not ten feet away from his own. So close that Tim had been able to feel the grace radiating from him all night. Like the first kiss of sunlight after a long rain.

“Yeah,” Kon was saying as he relaxed into a smile. “I don’t know what’s in those pillows, but it felt like sleeping on a cloud.”

Amused, Stephanie commented, “You would know.”

“Anyway,” Tim interjected. An amused Stephanie was a dangerous Stephanie. “Steph will be watching the shop for me while we’re gone. Which we should be getting to. Right now.”

Frowning, Kon raked a hand through his hair and seemed to notice for the first time that it was less than orderly. He turned his attention to the task of righting it as he replied, “We haven’t even eaten breakfast yet.”

“Yeah, Tim. Stay a while,” Stephanie agreed with a toothy smile.

“I will deal with you later,” Tim muttered to her under his breath. To Kon, he said, “We’ll eat on the way. Our business is rather time sensitive.”

A guilty look stole over Kon’s expression. “Right, of course,” he said, dropping his hands to his sides.

That settled, Tim said, “Grab my travel bag, will you? It’s by the work table.”

With a nod of acquiescence, Kon dipped back behind the curtain. Before Stephanie could get a single innuendo in, Tim pulled her into a tight hug. She gave a small huff of surprise as their bodies collided, but a moment later she was wrapping her arms around him in return. “What’s this for?” she asked.

“Because,” Tim said. He didn’t give any more reason than that. He couldn’t.

Kon cleared his throat awkwardly from the workroom doorway. “Should I wait outside, or… ?”

Stephanie pulled away first, hands firmly planted on Tim’s shoulders. She looked into his eyes, searching for the secret that would make the puzzle of Tim make sense, but there was nothing to find. The displeased set of her mouth told Tim that she wasn’t dropping the matter just yet, but she’d put it on hold for him. Because he needed her. It made him hate himself even more for keeping things from her, even as it reassured him that he was making the right decision by keeping his plans to himself.

“No, we’re good,” Stephanie told Kon without taking her eyes off Tim. He reached up to squeeze her wrists. She acknowledged it with one last fond look before finally turning to look at Kon. “Make sure to bring him back in one piece, okay? He owes me multiple packages of sentient gummy bears.”

Tim groaned. “For the last time, I’m not animating you a candy army.”

“Why not?”

“It’s unethical, for starters.”

A grin cut across Steph’s face like the flash of a blade. “You’re just scared I’d topple a few empires with it.”

“Yes, which is why I’m never giving you one,” Tim agreed without a hint of mockery. “Now, Kon and I really must be going. It was great seeing you. Don’t burn my shop down and I’ll be back in a few days. Byeeee.” As he spoke, he walked over to Kon to grab his friend’s wrist and haul both of them bodily out of the shop. The angel put up little resistance, and the door swung shut behind them, cutting off the sound of Steph’s laughter.

“Sorry about that,” Tim said as they started walking down the street. “Steph is great once you get to know her, but she can come on strong.”

“I thought she seemed nice.” Kon hesitated. “Are you two… ?”

“Oh— oh god no,” Tim said quickly. He realized suddenly that he was still holding Kon’s wrist. He dropped it. “We’re more like family.”

“Oh,” Kon said quietly. His tone was indecipherable. “You’ve got a lot of family.”

“I guess?”

It really would have been easier to portal to Kon’s apartment, but making portals was taxing. Better not to waste the magic when Tim would probably need it later. Besides, he’d promised Kon breakfast on the go.

“Must be nice.”

Tim missed a step, nearly falling on his face. The only thing that saved him from a mouthful of concrete was Kon’s hand around his arm, just above the elbow. “Are you alright?” Kon asked anxiously. The place where they were touching burned.

Tim righted himself and looked up into Kon’s eyes. He hadn’t thought… Well, just that. He hadn’t thought.

Kon was very nearly alone on Earth. Angels didn’t have the same concept of family that most creatures of the Earth did, but surely there had been some form of camaraderie in Heaven, even if it hadn’t made up for everything else in Kon’s eyes. Here, the only people who even came close to family both thought of him as lesser. Tainted somehow and unworthy of being their brother. They’d turned their backs on him as soon as he fell, and nobody else had reached out their hand.

“I’m sorry,” Tim said after a pause that had stretched on for far too long. Foot traffic on the sidewalk was being forced to part around them, much to the disgruntlement of more than a few pedestrians, but Tim couldn’t make himself move yet.

Surprise flashed across Kon’s face, but it was quickly replaced with his trademark grin. “Don’t worry about it. You don’t exactly weigh much.”

It took a moment for Tim’s brain to catch up. “Oh. I guess not.”

With an over dramatic show of brushing imaginary dust off Tim’s shoulders, Kon started walking again, whistling a jaunty tune as he went. Helpless to do anything else, Tim followed.

It took a full minute of wiggling the door handle to Kon’s apartment every which way for him to get it open without breaking the locking mechanism. From the furrow of concentration in his brow, Tim inferred that about half of that was the stubbornness of the lock itself, and the other half was due to the restraint it required for Kon to avoid crushing the pieces of metal that must’ve felt so delicate in hands like his.

“Got it,” Kon declared at last, shooting Tim a grin as he pulled the door open.

Kon’s apartment was, to put it bluntly, a shithole. He’d gotten it on the small stipend Kal-El had provided him with when he first crashed down to Earth and barely understood what currency was, let alone how to hunt for real estate. Tim had offered to help him move five times over since then, but for some reason Kon liked the squalor.

“Where did you keep them?” Tim asked, glancing around at the empty bottles and take out containers scattered around the surfaces of Kon’s cramped living room. It was a mess, but it was the sort of controlled mess that was perpetual in Kon’s apartment. Nothing looked out of the ordinary.

Tripping over the inelegant pile of shoes he kept by the door, Kon stuttered, “Uh, well— the thing is…”

Tim crossed his arms. “Spit it out.”

“... they were under my bed.”

“What?”

“I didn’t have a lot of options, okay! There aren’t a lot of hidey holes in this apartment, and it made sense at the time,” Kon explained sheepishly.

Tim forced himself to take several deep breaths. “Let me see if I’m understanding you correctly, you left one of the largest deposits of angelic grace on Earth under your bed.”

“...yes.”

“Because heaven forbid you take your security seriously!” Tim said shrilly, turning away from Kon before he did something regrettable. He marched toward Kon’s bedroom. “If you’d just told me you needed help securing them, I could have provided you with protection spells and we might not be in this situation, Kon.”

Kon trailed behind him. “I wasn’t exactly expecting anyone to come for them. Nobody knows I’m here except you.”

“That’s… not a bad point, actually.”

As far as Tim knew, nobody but him had ever visited Kon’s apartment, and even if someone had asked the angel point blank where he lived, Tim was pretty sure Kon couldn’t repeat back his address if he tried. Making a list of suspects was becoming an increasingly confounding task.

Kon’s bedroom was much like the rest of his apartment. Small and cramped with incongruously good furniture. The durable kind that wouldn’t break when Kon rolled over in his sleep. The tabletops were all cluttered and dusty, but the floor was clear. The only thing that seemed truly amiss was the bed itself which was currently turned on it’s headboard and flush against the wall to reveal the rectangle of carpet that usually lay beneath it.

Tim prowled closer to the space, squatting down to get a closer look. When he held his hand over it, he could still feel the phantom thrumbing of magical energy, but nothing concrete enough to grab onto.

“Angel grace is notoriously difficult to track,” he told Kon regretfully. “This won’t be easy.”

From much closer behind him than he would have expected, the angel asked, “But can you do it?”

“We’re about to find out.”

Tim opened his satchel and pulled out three items. Settling himself comfortably on the floor, he arranged them around himself in a semi circle. A swan feather, the broken point of an old compass needle, and a few drops of leprechaun blood willingly offered. Aside from the trace amounts of grace in the blood, none of them had any inherent magical properties, but Tim had found that when it came to casting spells, it was the ingredients’ stories that mattered more.

He closed his eyes and began.

Any good tracking spell relied entirely on one’s familiarity with the object they were tracking. The more you could convince that thing that it was yours, the more it would be willing to tell you where it was. The reason this made angel grace (and thus any object imbued with it) difficult was two fold.

First, angel grace was a prideful form of magic. It didn’t like anything other than itself, and no one had ever succeeded in convincing it that they were its master. Second, even if someone could convince it to let itself be caught, they probably wouldn’t live long enough to reach it. In hands touched by the demonic as most magic users were, angel grace had a tendency to burn.

Still, Tim tried. He let his awareness spiral out of his body like thread from a spool and wind around the room, searching for remnants of power. The place where the wings once were drew him in until everything narrowed down to the shadow of that great magic. Tim reached out a hand and summoned the feather into it. It was only a shallow facsimile of an angel feather, but it was a concrete marker.

Eyes still closed, he called the leprechaun blood, letting it levitate from it’s jar as if somehow spilling upward to coat the snowy feather crimson. Like a stain, the diluted traces of Heaven’s grace in the blood seeped into the swan feather until it could almost pass for angelic itself. Licking his lips, Tim held his makeshift beacon over the compass needle and started to hum.

The humming wasn’t precisely necessary, but it helped focus Tim as he called to the wings. Crooning to them through the ether. Calling them friend and beloved and mine. Warmth began to spread through his fingers and he heard the gentle rattle of metal against glass as the compass needle began to shake in its container. He could feel the gravity in the room faltering as his hair rose around his ears and then above his head. Kon’s voice came from some distance away carrying a questioning lilt, but Tim just hummed louder. He almost had it…

And then the feather in his hand burst into flames.

Tim yelped, dropping the feather. The fire burned merrily on the carpet, but the flames didn’t spread past the quickly disappearing feather. “Well, that could have gone better,” he said as he shook out his hand.

“Are you okay?” Kon asked, kneeling beside him hesitantly.

“I wonder if I should have used your blood instead… ” Tim muttered to himself. “No, it wouldn't have made a difference.”

“Tim.”

He patted Kon’s knee absentmindedly. “I’m fine, but that’s clearly not going to work. We’ll have to come up with a different method of finding them. Did you see any clues as to how they might have been taken?”

Kon pursed his lips, hands hovering over Tim like he might help him up, but in the end they dropped back to his sides. “I— no. Nothing.”

Placing the compass needle and now empty jar back into his satchel, Tim said, “Well, I didn’t sense any magical traces except yours, so it must have been physical means. Maybe they picked the lock on the front door?”

“If I can barely unlock it with a key, surely they couldn’t manage with picks,” Kon replied doubtfully.

“We can’t rule anything out.” Tim smirked. “They could just be better with their hands than you.”

Kon smirked back. “I doubt it.”

Suddenly warmer than he had been a moment ago, Tim stood up with his satchel over his shoulder. “Well, if it wasn’t the door then it had to have been the windows, right?”

“Or they portaled in,” Kon pointed out, even as he walked over to the windows.

“Trust me, I would have felt it if they had. Got anything?”

Kon inspected the lock on the window before flicking it open and pulling up the window. It stuck a little, but he just said, “This one’s fine,” and moved onto the next.

“God, where’s Jason when you need him,” Tim muttered under his breath. He might not get along with his adoptive brother most of the time, but a wolf’s sense of smell could’ve made their little investigation a breeze. Unfortunately Jason worked too closely with Dick and cared too little for Kon to have any interest in lending them a helping hand.

“I’ll check the ones in the rest of the apartment,” Tim announced. Kon only grunted in agreement.

A couple minutes later, they found what they were looking for in the bathroom. “It makes sense,” Kon said, inspecting the broken lock. “They must’ve climbed up the fire escape. It would’ve been easy, even for a human.”

“How have you not been murdered in your sleep yet?”

“Now, Tim,” Kon replied chastisingly. “Who would want to kill little old me?”

Tim refrained from rolling his eyes, but only barely. “Because you’ve never stepped on anybody’s toes, right?”

“Exactly.”

Tim didn’t dignify that with a response. “Shove over so I can fix your lock and we’ll talk about next steps,” he said instead, shouldering his way past Kon to the meager standing room by the window. He had to calm the beating of his heart at the forced proximity, but luckily Kon stepped back to give him room to work.

The lock was easy to mend, so it only took a few seconds. When Tim exited the bathroom, he found Kon with his head in his hands on the couch, shoulders slumped. It was a position Tim was getting too familiar with seeing him in lately.

Tim sighed and pulled off his satchel, lowering it gently to the floor. Unburdened, he cleared a space on the coffee table in front of Kon and perched on the edge of it, leaving hardly two feet between them.

“This is all my fault,” Kon said at length, not lifting his head.

“You’re right, it is,” Tim agreed. “But there is a world of difference between you being a little careless and whatever shit these thieves are planning to get up to. You made a mistake, Kon. They’re going to do a lot worse.”

Kon groaned. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No, it’s supposed to motivate you to stop beating yourself up and help me get your wings back.”

Hesitantly, Tim reached out and laid a hand on Kon’s shoulder. When his friend didn’t protest, he bowed his own head and said softly, “They targeted you, Kon. This was clearly a professional job, and they knew exactly what they were looking for. This wasn’t random, it was an attack.”

Kon finally looked at him. With his elbows on his knees and his back bent over, he had to tilt his head back to manage it for once instead of the other way around. It didn’t leave much room for air. “You suck at cheering people up.”

A smile flickered across Tim’s face. “So I’ve been told. But I also don’t make false promises, and I’ll give you my word on this: we will get your wings back. I swear on all the magic in my body.”

“That’s a hefty promise,” Kon replied, voice barely more than a whisper.

“And I intend to keep it.”

Kon’s eyes raked over his face, taking in every detail and searching for the cracks of deceit. Tim had always liked to think of himself as a good liar, but with a gaze like that burning into him, he didn’t think he would’ve been able to hide anything from Kon just then. It was an unsettling feeling.

“Why are you sticking your neck out for me?” Kon asked at last.

Tim’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re asking me that now? Whatever you might’ve said, you must’ve known what I’d do once you told me, otherwise you never would’ve come to me.”

“I hoped, but I wasn’t sure,” Kon corrected. “And things were different yesterday. Yesterday there was still the chance that this was all some funny misunderstanding that could be cleared up in a few hours. Now it’s more likely that some very dangerous people have my wings and could be planning to do anything with them. You already did your duty as a friend trying to spare me from the Triumvirate. This is the part where you come to your senses and turn me in before one of us gets hurt or we lose the wings forever.”

What Tim didn’t say was that good sense had never been his forte around Kon, but he knew it showed on his face anyway. “I’m not going to turn you in, Kon. Yes, this might be dangerous, but we can handle it. Until I know for sure that either I can’t keep you safe or that your wings pose a present and extreme danger, I’m not breathing a word of this to the Triumvirate.”

Sighing, Kon wrapped his fingers around Tim’s wrist and pulled Tim’s hand off his shoulder. Tim, who had almost forgotten he was still touching Kon, thought it might be a rebuff, but Kon didn’t let go of him. Instead, he let his thumb rub gently across Tim’s pulse point without ever looking away from his eyes. “You’re on the council, Tim. You could get in just as much trouble as me for keeping this a secret,” he warned.

“The council can— ” go fuck itself, Tim was going to say, but suddenly a thought struck him. “Oh. I know what we have to do.”

Startled by the suddenness of Tim’s revelation, Kon asked, “What?”

Ignoring him, Tim shot to his feet and started pacing. “We’re obviously not going to get anywhere trying to track non-magical thieves through non-magical means— neither of us have the skill set for it— but just because I can’t track them, doesn’t mean no one can. There are three options off the top of my head that could help us.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “The first is the Triumvirate, but we can’t do that for obvious reasons. The second is, to put it bluntly, very dangerous to my personal safety and probably yours too. But the third!” He clapped his hands together. “We need to go see Barbara.”

“Barbara as in the Oracle Barbara?” Kon asked. “The one who happens to also be on the council? That Barbara?”

Tim quirked a brow. “Do you know any other Barbara? Of course I’m talking about ‘that Barbara.’ Oracle magic is of an entirely different breed than tracking magic. She won’t have to face the same hurdles I did, and she owes me a favor anyway.”

“She owes you a favor?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. I can do useful things.”

“That’s not the part of this I’m doubting.” Kon stood up, catching Tim’s eye with his. “Are you sure she won’t turn us in?”

Sensing the solemnity of Kon’s concern, Tim forced himself to cease his endless motion and reply with equal gravity, “I’m sure. Babs isn’t the best rule follower. Plus, being the Oracle puts her more or less outside the traditional power structure anyway. She’ll help us.”

After a moment, Kon just sighed in resignation. “Okay, sure. Why not?”

“That’s the spirit.”

Once upon a time, oracles used to live in caves to stay close to the volcanic ashes. To ask after their futures, supplicants would have to brave the often steep and treacherous paths first. Even if they reached the mouth of the cave, many were said to have turned away from the sheer intimidating presence of the place. The geography alone made it so only the most desperate would ever dare petition the fates.

Barbara was more practical. She kept unwanted guests away with spells and metal instead, a security system woven of magic and technology in a manner that was the envy of any futurist. Layers of protection kept her safe in her own version of a mountain: Gotham’s largest abandoned clock tower. All the height, none of the overbearing heat or suffocating fumes.

There was also, of course, the inescapably large clock that made up an entire wall of her home. No visitor was ever free from the shadow of time ticking away as their chances of changing or fulfilling their fate faded away by the second.

Barbara was practical, but she wasn’t immune to the family flare for drama.

When they reached the base of her modern fortress, Tim leaned into the intercom with an innocent smile and said, “Hey Babs, I was wondering if— ”

He hadn’t even finished his sentence before there was a loud buzz and the lobby door swung open.

“That’s a good sign,” Kon said, holding it open for Tim.

He hummed in agreement. The door fell shut behind them as they crossed a spacious, but empty lobby to the elevator. It was already open and waiting for them, the button for the top floor lit up.

“Okay, what?” Kon asked flatly as the elevator began to rise.

“What what?”

Kon rolled his eyes. “That was your ‘not really but I’ll go along with it’ hum of agreement. Was her letting us in a bad sign somehow?”

A little surprised to have been caught, Tim reluctantly explained, “Well, not exactly. Letting us in is obviously good, but she didn’t say anything. She’s being… short with us.”

“You mean she’s already pissed at us?” Kon asked. “She doesn’t even know what we’re here for!” He faltered. “Or does she?”

Tim had to smile at the sudden apprehension in Kon’s expression. “She might, but I doubt it. I think Earth’s only Oracle has bigger things to be worrying about than why you and I might be visiting her today. It’s more likely that she’s distracted by something or just in a bad mood— neither of which would be particularly ideal for us.”

Kon still looked somewhat troubled, but he let the matter drop. The rest of the ride passed in silence.

Because of how frequently he visited, it was easy for Tim to forget how truly imposing Barbara’s home was, but as they stepped off the elevator, he saw it anew through Kon’s eyes.

Directly across from the elevator were nearly a dozen monitors spread in an array of technology that could only be described as towering. To the left was a wall made entirely of translucent glass that displayed half of a clock face with numbers as tall as a person. To the right, an altar. It was made from the same onyx stone as Bruce’s palace, and atop it sat a metal bowl in which a smokeless fire continually burned. On one particularly unpleasant occasion, Tim had watched Barbara slaughter a chicken on that altar to predict when the economy would stabilize.

Thinking it over, Tim could appreciate Kon’s hesitance to enter such a room, but he still didn’t have the patience for it. When Kon didn’t budge from his gaping, Tim just grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the room, letting the elevator doors close behind them. He knew Kon was only letting himself be moved, but it was still gratifying to drag the angel over to the bank of monitors where Barbara sat with her fingers steepled, eyes intent on the seemingly static-filled screens.

Tim stopped them a respectful distance away, hesitant to interrupt whatever it was Barbara was doing. There was no noise coming from the monitors, so their footsteps had echoed deafeningly loudly through the room as they approached. If she was at all present to the world— and considering she’d been able to let them up, Tim suspected she was— then she knew they were there. The polite thing to do was to wait, so wait they did.

In a matter of seconds, Kon started fidgeting beside him, but Tim dug his elbow into his side until he stopped, and eventually Barbara made a small, interested noise in the back of her throat and at last leaned back in her wheelchair.

“Tim,” she said, stretching her arms over her head and not yet looking at them. “What would you do if I told you in three years Gotham will be cut off from the outside world and declared an official No Man’s Land by the United States government?”

“Start stockpiling supplies probably,” Tim replied, unfazed. “But that’s not going to happen, is it?”

“Of course not,” Barbara agreed, leaning forward to start typing on her keyboard. The static screens vanished to be replaced with a nondescript blue desktop background with her email open on the monitor directly in front of her. “Not in this timeline anyway,” she said as she finished typing and hit send with a definitive clack.

“W-what?” Kon asked.

“Don’t worry about it, angel,” Barbara replied breezily. “Now, what can I do for the two of you?”

Tim considered drawing out the dance a little longer, but he was half afraid Kon might snap if they strung him along for another second, so he got to the point. “We need your help finding something.”

Barbara snorted. “Didn’t know you were in the treasure hunting business. Are things around the shop really getting that desperate?”

“Ha ha,” Tim said, rolling his eyes. “Things are fine, thank you very much. We need help finding Kon’s wings. They seem to have gone missing.” He tried to say it as lightly as he could, but there was no missing the way Barbara’s entire body froze.

“Missing how?”

“Missing, as in taken.”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that,” Barbara said with a frown. She rolled her wheelchair to face them and settled her hands on her lap. Her expression was serious. “Don’t you think this is the sort of thing Bruce might want to know about? Particularly considering certain deadlines that are in play?” Even from behind her glasses, her eyes cut Tim to the bone.

“Sure, he might want to know,” Tim replied evenly. “But we’re not going to tell him.” He tried to force authority and nonchalance into his voice, but in the end all it took was the quick glance of Barbara’s eyes between him and Kon for his palms to start sweating. They weren’t talking about Bruce anymore.

Barbara sighed. “Tim, you’re being an idiot,” she said frankly. “A paranoid idiot, but I guess I can’t blame you. In your position… ” again, her eyes flicked to Kon. “Well, the Triumvirate hasn’t given you a lot of reason lately to trust in their mercy, so I’ll keep your secret, but I don’t know if I can help.”

“Why not?” Kon blurted. Tim never liked hearing Kon sound so panicked, but it was still a relief to hear his friend gloss over the rest of Barbara’s veiled insinuations.

Pushing the bridge of her glasses up her nose, Barbara shifted seamlessly into lecture mode. “To oversimplify an extremely complex magic, my Sight comes from the fates. I’m only able to see what they want to show me, and to be honest, they don’t have a lot of interest in the present. As they see it, the current whereabouts of any object, even something as powerful as your wings, isn’t any of their concern. Now, ask me where they’ll be in a hundred years, and I might be of more help.”

Instead of responding to that, Kon looked at Tim instead. “But I thought you said— ”

Tim nodded. “I did. And I meant it. Barbara?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, a gentle sort of chiding. “All that said… the fates are fickle. Every once in a while, they answer pleas they’d normally ignore. I can only presume Tim brought you here because he’s feeling lucky.”

Tim shrugged. “It’s certainly worth a shot before we resign ourselves to more dangerous means.”

“What’s that thing that parents say?” Barbara asked, amused. “If you’re going to do it, I’d rather you do it under my roof.”

“I’ll take that as a yes then,” Tim replied through gritted teeth.

A smile flickered at the corner of her mouth. “Yes, I’ll help you.”

He tried not to look too visibly relieved, but Kon had no such qualms. He was too busy thanking her.

“Oh, I’m sure Tim will pay me back. Won’t you, Tim?” Barbara replied pointedly as she started wheeling herself toward the altar.

They fell into step behind her. “Of course.” Tim prayed for mercy, but didn’t particularly expect any.

At the altar, Barbara produced a wicked looking ceremonial knife and a number of dried herbs. She tossed some of the herbs into the fire and held out the knife to Kon. “Just a few drops will do.”

“I hate Old Magic,” Tim said. “It’s so barbaric.”

“Watch it,” Barbara said, without any real heat in her voice. He knew she agreed, but she wasn’t about to test the patience of her fates with blasphemy.

“It’s fine,” Kon said placatingly as he took the knife. He cut a small nick on the back of his hand and watched the blood drip down and sizzle in the fire. He paused. “I’m going to be honest, I wasn’t really expecting that knife to be able to cut me. That fucking hurt.”

“Does the baby angel need an ice pack?” Barbara teased.

Kon colored. “No.”

“Here,” Tim said more kindly, pulling Kon’s hand gently toward him. With his free hand, he rooted around in his satchel until he came back with some cotton and gauze. As Barbara finished preparing for whatever it was she was going to do, Tim quickly cleaned and bandaged the small cut. At the last moment, some instinct urged him to lean down and kiss it, but Tim quashed that like a hydraulic press quashing a rubber chicken. He dropped Kon’s hand instead, hoping no one would notice the flush in his cheeks.

“Thanks,” Kon said, inspecting the bandage with an odd expression.

Clearing her throat, Barbara announced, “If you two are done, I’m ready.”

They both turned to her, the moment of levity forgotten. The fire in the bowl had turned an unnatural silver. It climbed high enough to nearly block Barbara from view, but no heat emitted from it. If Tim squinted, he almost thought he could see shapes in it.

“Fates,” Barbara intoned in a voice that was at once her own and not. “I seek the whereabouts of this angel’s wings.”

The pressure in the room dropped until Tim felt his ears pop, but there wasn’t a sound save the crackling of the fire. Not one he could hear anyway.

Engrossed in the flames, Tim almost jumped out of his skin when Kon’s hand wrapped around his wrist. When he pulled his eyes away to check on Kon, the angel’s expression was tense. Tim covered Kon’s hand with his own and turned back to the fire.

It had swelled in the moment he’d looked away and seemed to still be swelling. The flames clawed ever higher and glowed ever brighter until finally, they went out completely with a hollow woosh as if they’d been sucked into a vacuum.

Barbara collapsed forward, bracing herself on the edge of the altar and taking deep ragged breaths. “Fuck,” she gasped.

Kon’s hand tightened on Tim’s wrist, just shy of painful. “What is it?”

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Barbara said, running a shaky hand through her hair to push back the wisps that had fallen out of her ponytail. She was rapidly collecting herself, clarity returning to her milky eyes. “I didn’t get a location, but I did get an image. It looked like some sort of lab.”

Fuck indeed, Tim thought. “What’s being done to them?”

Barbara sat back in her wheelchair, hands falling to the armrests. Her normal composure had returned, but it didn’t make her next words any easier to hear. “They’re being plucked.”

Kon made a wounded sound in the back of his throat. “Why? Who would do that?”

“Each of those feathers contains enough grace to power a city if used correctly,” Tim said. “Whoever stole your wings probably knows exactly what they’re doing.”

“As for who,” Barbara added, “I couldn’t tell, but I know we don’t have a lot of time. The wings are still mostly intact now, but the fates gave me the distinct impression that they won’t be for long. Whatever you two are going to do, you need to do it fast.”

“What are we going to do?” Kon asked.

Abruptly, Tim realized that he and Kon were still effectively holding hands. He pulled away gently. “We move on to plan b. We need to talk to a witch.”

Kon frowned. “I thought you were a witch.”

A fair assumption considering Kon’s education on non-angelic magical creatures had only begun after he fell, but Tim still grimaced. “Not quite. I’m only a witchling.”

“There’s a difference?”

He could feel Barbara’s eyes boring into him as he explained, “A witchling is a human with the ability to do magic. We’re completely mortal and our powers are limited by that. There’s only so much magic we can funnel through our bodies without burning them up.” Kon’s eyes were wide, giving Tim the distinct impression that he’d never put that much thought into just how much more fragile Tim was than him.

“Witches are what happens when a witchling sells their soul,” Tim continued, refusing to look at Barbara. “Most witchlings never gain enough power to do it or choose not to, but those who do become immortal. Beings made of pure magic beyond physical harm. Their sort of magic… there are almost no limits to what it can do.”

“I don’t understand.” Kon said with a frown. “Why would anybody ever choose not to become immortal? ‘Being of pure magic’ sounds pretty awesome to me.”

“Nothing comes without a price, angel,” Barbara answered darkly. “Without a soul, witches lose everything that made them human, not just their bodies.”

“What does that mean?” Kon asked, looking increasingly discomforted by the picture they were painting.

It was all Tim could do not to flinch. “Look, it’s not important,” he said. “The point is, a witch would be powerful enough to find your wings, and we don’t have the time to stand around talking about this. We need to go. Thanks for the help, Babs.”

He’d already turned on his heel and started marching toward the elevator when Barbara said, “Wait. I need a word with you before you go.”

“Can’t it wait?” Tim pleaded.

“No.”

Kon glanced between the two of them uncertainly. There was a question in his eyes directed solely at Tim. In response to it, Tim jerked his head toward the elevator. “Go. I’ll be right behind you.”

“If you’re sure… ” Kon said hesitantly. Tim gave him a reassuring smile.

He waited until the elevator doors had closed before turning back around to face Barbara. She wheeled herself out from behind the altar, but neither of them bothered moving any closer than that.

For a long moment, Barbara just stared at him, waiting for him to break. He refused to, but it didn’t feel like a victory when Barbara broke the silence first. “I don’t mind helping you lie to the council or the Triumvirate to protect him, but I can’t support you lying to your friends about this, Tim. Especially not that one. You’ve only got two more weeks, don’t you think he deserves to know?”

“Of course he does,” Tim snapped. “But he deserves to be happy more. The less Kon knows about what’s going to happen to me and why I’m doing it, the better. The truth will only hurt him.”

“Spoken like a true Wayne.”

Tim stayed silent.

“He’s going to hate you for it.”

“Better he hates me than himself.”

Something in Barbara seemed to deflate. “To be honest, I don’t know what I’d do in your place. I’m sorry, Tim.”

“Everybody is,” Tim agreed. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Name it.”

“I wrote… letters. They explain as much as I think it’d be wise to. Hopefully, I’ll be able to deliver them myself after the ascension, but I don’t know if I’ll still be inclined. In case I’m not, will you deliver them?”

For a moment, Barbara looked as if he’d punched her in the gut, but she composed herself quickly. “Of course I will.”

“Thank you,” Tim said earnestly. “They’re under the false bottom of my bedside drawer.”

She huffed a weak laugh. “Paranoid much?”

“Considering who we are, I’d be stupid not to be,” Tim replied. “I should go before Kon starts to worry.”

Barbara nodded sharply. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yes, you will,” Tim promised, and with that, he left. The elevator doors opened for him as soon as he pressed the button. Kon was waiting inside.

“Tim?” the angel said as the box began to descend.

“Yes?”

“I’m really glad you’re still human.”

Tim closed his eyes against the marble lodged in his throat. “Yeah,” he choked out. “Me too.”

Chapter Text

“There are only three witches in Gotham,” Tim explained in the taxi. The driver had given him a long, searching look in the mirror when he’d rattled off the address, but in the end, he’d started the meter without complaint and proceeded to ignore them both completely. The muffling spell Tim cast probably helped with that.

The cab was… small. A little dinged up, but Tim figured any other cabbie would have refused his request and booted them out, so he’d take what he could get, even if it barely left an inch of space between him and Kon. When the wheels started rolling, that inch shrank to nothing as they were jostled together.

“Which one are we going to see?” Kon asked.

“Midnighter.”

“Excuse me, who? Can you imagine naming your kid Midnighter? How cruel would you have to be?”

“He named himself that, actually. When he signed his contract.”

Kon’s shoulders shook with barely restrained laughter. “And people just… go along with it?”

“You’ll understand when you meet him,” Tim muttered darkly. He had only ever interacted with Midnighter once, and he was less than enthused at the prospect of making it twice.

Sobering, Kon asked, “What do you mean by contract?”

Tim held back a wince. As far as he was concerned, the less Kon knew about witches, the better, but considering where they were headed, leaving Kon in the dark was too dangerous. Information was power, and Tim preferred it when his friends could protect themselves.

“It’s the magic that binds witches and Hell to the bargain they made when the witch ascended. The witch can never reclaim their soul, and Hell can never take back the power it granted.”

Tim hated how serious his tone was. He wanted the levity from a moment before back, but it was hard for him to laugh when he knew what was coming. Still, he’d kept much larger secrets than this before without letting it affect his behavior. He wasn’t going to tarnish that record now.

“That’s the base of it anyway,” he added, forcing his voice into academic disinterest. “Magical contracts are generally just as dense as mortal ones. They come with a whole host of complications beyond their base function, most of which are safety nets the witch writes in for themselves to make sure they won’t become a complete monster when they lose access to their soul.”

A witch without a code to guide them was a witch that could and would level cities without blinking an eye.

Kon looked taken aback. “You said he used the immensely powerful binding magic to change his name? That seems like overkill.”

Tim shrugged. “A bit, yeah. Whatever his reasons, he didn’t just give himself a new name, he completely erased his old one. No one will ever be able to know or speak it again. He is Midnighter now. For all intents and purposes, it’s like he always has been.”

He cut himself off before he could say more, but Kon caught the expression on his face and said, “What is it?”

“I wasn’t going to mention it, but since we’re on the subject… ” Tim said, trying to sound casual. “Midnighter’s code— what witches call the rules they write for themselves— is one of the very few that doesn’t stop him from using his magic to kill.”

The revelation dropped between them like a stone, but Kon recovered with admirable speed.

“What’s the point of binding magic if it’s not doing anything?” he asked, sounding disapproving.

Tim shifted uncomfortably, keeping his eyes straight ahead. He hadn’t written out his own code yet, but he’d spent hours every night thinking about it. When he became a monster, he intended to offer the world every protection he could think of, even if that meant chaining himself to a rock and dropping it in the ocean. He may have been forced into making this decision, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to succumb to it.

“Trust me, it’s doing something,” he said. “Bruce gave him a warning actually. It was a whole thing a couple hundred years ago, but apparently he caught wind of Midnighter’s plan and told him in no uncertain terms that if he ever really crossed a line, Bruce would personally hunt him down.”

“And what did Midnighter say?” Kon asked, enraptured.

“That he didn’t have a soul to reap, but Bruce was welcome to the rest of him— if he could take it.”

Kon whistled. “Are all witches like that?”

“Like what? Dangerous?”

“I was gonna say hardcore badasses, but your thing works too.”

Well. Tim supposed there were worse things to be. “Being a witch by definition makes someone dangerous, but I can’t say all of them have the same… flair for the dramatic that Midnighter does. He’s a bit of a special case.”

“Then why are we going to see him?”

Tim finally looked at him, confused. “I told you. He can help us find your wings.”

Kon rolled his eyes. “I know that. I mean why him. You said there were two other witches in Gotham. If he’s especially dangerous, then why don’t we go talk to one of them?”

“That’s… a really good question actually,” Tim admitted.

Kon elbowed him. “I do have good ideas every now and then.”

Tim laughed. “Sure, but not this time. Midnighter might be the only one that can kill us, but finding Zatanna could take weeks, and there’s no way Constantine would ever help us. Besides, Midnighter’s got a history with angels that I think might help him find your wings.”

Kon frowned. “What sort of history?”

Tim grimaced. “The messy kind.”

“I see.”

He really didn’t, but Tim figured he’d find that out for himself soon enough.

The taxi ride took them well into the bad part of town. The driver started glancing around shiftily by the time they hit Burnside. When they reached the proper slums, he all but kicked them out of the car before taking off. Tim had to snatch his hand back from the window to keep from losing it.

“He wasn’t very friendly,” Kon commented.

“Can’t blame him. Come on.”

If Kon’s apartment had been a dump, Midnighter’s was the ideal location for a rat brothel. It would’ve taken little more than a toothpick to get through its security, and from the looks of the doors they passed on their way up, many of the denizens of crime alley had taken that as an invitation.

“Is the witch business falling on hard times?” Kon finally asked after they passed an open door with a bucket out front smelling strongly of bleach. A dishwasher glove with red stains on the fingers hung over the side.

“Money is a mortal construct,” Tim replied distractedly. “For someone with magic— particularly illusion magic— it doesn’t really mean anything. And before you ask,” he added, “I don’t have any idea why he keeps an apartment here, and I wouldn’t advise asking. I just know it’s the only reliable way to find him. Ah, here we are.”

He stopped in front of a plain, wooden door, the only one on the floor without peeling paint. A simple black number three rested square in the middle of it. Tim knocked twice and took a step back. With a deep breath, he turned to Kon and said, “When we go in, let me do the talking, okay? Midnighter can be… difficult. He doesn’t like strangers.”

“Relax, Tim,” Kon said easily. “I can handle it.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Tim replied under his breath, but before Kon could kick up a fuss about it, the door inched open with a quiet click. Nothing but darkness awaited them on the other side. “Well, that’s our cue.”

Pulling himself up to his full height, Tim stepped forward and pushed the door the rest of the way open. Gesturing for Kon to follow, he strode confidently into the inky blackness and waited for the door to snap shut behind them before he spoke.

“We’re here to seek aid,” he declared.

The shadows sung. Whispers snaked around them, moving closer and farther away until Tim was almost certain something had brushed up against his leg. He kept his chin held high and refused to flinch, but the formless sounds were getting louder. Just as he thought he might break, a hand grabbed hold of his. Kon. Tim’s next breath came a little easier.

At last, the whispers retreated once and for all, and with them, so went the darkness. As if it had been an inky stain in the air, it retreated into the corners and cracks of the room until they were standing in a well lit apartment with windows facing out onto the street.

The place was completely empty. There wasn’t a single piece of furniture to be seen, and while it looked otherwise well kept, Tim got the sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t the sort of place one might call ‘hospitable to human life,’ an impression that probably came from the sole occupant of the room.

He hadn’t been there a moment ago. Tim was sure of it. And yet, there he stood. A being that seemed to have formed from the wisps of shadow melting into the walls. He had no face that Tim could see, but his shadowy form took the vague shape of a man in a long, dark cloak. Even from several feet away, Tim felt he had to crane his neck upwards to look at the abyss where a face should have been.

“Hello,” Tim said, his voice carefully measured. The being didn’t reply. “I’m not sure if you remember me, but my name is Ti— ”

“Give me one good reason not to kill you and your pet angel where you stand.”

Kon’s grip on Tim’s hand tightened to the point of painful, but Tim only raised his eyebrows coolly. “How about two? You only kill people who deserve it and you’re dying to know what could have driven me here.”

There was a pause that stretched the length of several small panic attacks, and then Midnighter laughed. The sound reverberated out of him as if from the bottom of a deep well, carrying an edge that most definitely was not mirth. “Audacious little witchling. For the novelty of it, I’ll give you five minutes. Then I start taking bones.”

“Does he mean breaking bones?” Kon asked under his breath.

“No. No he does not,” Tim whispered back. Then, louder, “Kon’s wings have been taken. No magical means were used as far as I can tell, and tracking them has proved beyond me. We asked the fates first, but they’re being… reticent.”

Midnighter scoffed. “Being reticent is in their job description, little witchling. You’ll never get the answers you want from those old crones.”

“Which is why we’ve come to you,” Tim supplied quickly. “We seek aid in locating Kon’s wings so that we can keep them from falling into the wrong hands.”

“Seems to me you’re well past that. The wrong hands have already laid claim to them, the only thing you can hope for now is to mitigate the damage.”

Kon winced at the accusation in Midnighter’s voice, but kept silent. Protectiveness surged in Tim’s chest. Yes, he’d berated Kon for his loose security measures, but what happened wasn’t his fault. Whoever had taken the wings had clearly been both skilled and well informed.

Still, Tim held his tongue. Defending Kon at that moment would have been too much of a risk. “Yes. Will you help us with that?”

Midnighter had no expression to read, but the tilt of his head could almost have implied amusement. “Why should I?”

Pursing his lips together, Tim pulled his satchel over his head and opened it. “I’ve brought some items to serve as compensation— ”

He was cut off by Midnighter’s echoing laugh. “You don’t have anything that could hold my interest. I don’t need things. I’ve had centuries to collect things. Try again.”

Tim wasn’t surprised. It was the opening bid in a long negotiation, and not one he’d ever expected Midnigther to take. All the magic in Tim’s shop wouldn’t tempt a witch as old as him. Still, it would have been nice to resolve this simply. “Is there some service we could do for you that would make it worth your while?”

“Of course not. What could I possibly want from a wingless angel and an infant witchling?”

Tim kept his face carefully blank against his instinctive reaction to the barb. Kon was not so restrained. “You can’t talk to him like that,” he snapped.

To be perfectly honest, Tim was impressed he’d lasted this long. Unfortunately, there were no points for trying in a game of life or death.

Instantly, the temperature in the room dropped. The windows fell into shadow as if a cloud had crawled in front of the sun, and the walls bled black. Midnighter loomed larger than ever. “I can speak to him however I like, boy, and you can’t stop me.”

To his credit, Kon wasn’t cowed. “Like hell,” he snarled back. “Just because you got a little power in a shitty bargain bin deal doesn’t mean you’re above it all. Tim may be just a— a witchling, but he’s a damn good one, and you shouldn’t talk down to him like that.”

Tim tried desperately to communicate with his eyes alone that Kon needed to shut the fuck up, but the angel wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were glued to Midnighter, and if looks could kill, they might have been evenly matched.

Really, it was Tim’s fault for bringing Kon in with him.

“Please forgive Kon, he hasn’t been on Earth for very long,” Tim said, pulling on Kon’s hand until the angel finally relented.

They waited with baited breath for Midnighter’s judgement, but instead of smiting them where they stood, the sunlight came flooding back in. The temperature returned to normal, and then, most unexpected of all, the shadows retreated from Midnighter’s face.

The man revealed to them looked tired. His hair was jet black and shaved short along the sides but left long on top. His skin was sallow against high cheekbones and a strong jaw. Implausibly, he reminded Tim of Bruce. They even had the same ancient, timeless eyes. “You’re infants,” he said tonelessly. “Even you, angel. You don’t know yet what your immortality means, but you’ll learn. Until then, I’ll admit a grudging respect for those who stand up for others. You have my attention.”

Hope surged in Tim’s chest, and he didn’t hesitate to latch onto it. “We need to find these wings. They’re powerful magical items, and right now they’re being torn apart. We don’t know what the people who have them will do with them, but it won’t be good. Not for anyone.”

“You rely on my charity, then,” Midnighter said flatly.

“Will you give it?” Tim asked, refusing to flinch away from Midnighter’s unimpressed gaze.

He was silent for a long time, and with no change in his expression to gauge what he might be thinking, all they could do was wait. At last, he broke his silence. “Perhaps.” His gaze shifted from Tim to Kon. “But only if you agree to satiate my… curiosity.”

Panic surged in Tim’s chest. “What do you want to know?” he asked, but Midnighter ignored him.

“Do you consent, angel?”

“No, he doesn’t,” Tim snapped immediately. Turning to Kon, he continued in an undertone, “You don’t have to agree to this. We can find something else. Or— ”

But Kon wasn’t even looking at him. “What is it you want to know?” he asked.

Midnighter’s answering smile outpaced every threat he’d made so far. “What caused your fall?”

Kon looked shocked. “Why would you want to know that?”

Midnighter tutted. “That’s not how this works, angel. I ask the questions, you give the answers. No exceptions.”

Anger flared across Kon’s face, and before he could think about it, Tim was pulling Kon’s hand into both of his. “I’m serious, Kon. We’ll find something else he wants.”

The anger seemed to bleed out of Kon’s shoulders as he looked first at Tim, then down at their joined hands. “It’s okay,” he said softly, and Tim knew it wasn’t, but he also knew that Kon was going to do it anyway because no matter what promises Tim made, this was the price and there wasn’t anything they could do to change it. Kon had lost his wings, and now he was going to do whatever it took to get them back.

When he spoke again, his voice was steady. “I was called.”

“Meaning?”

Annoyance furrowed across Kon’s brow, but it seemed to be pointed solely inward. “I don’t know. There was this voice, but I was the only one who could hear it. It called to me for days on end until finally I just… followed it.”

“All the way down,” Midnighter murmured.

Kon looked at him curiously. “Yes. Until I hit rock.”

Tim squeezed his hand. In all the time they’d spent growing close to each other, he’d never heard this story. He’d never asked. He’d heard the gossip, and he’d known that Kal-El hadn’t approved of the way Kon fell, but he hadn’t put much stock in any of it. Kal-El could only be considered fallen on a technicality. He was on Earth legitimately, the sticking point had just been when he fell in love with a mortal. Having a story like that would make anyone a bit judgemental.

“And then?” Midnighter prompted. His expression was impassive.

“And then I was on Earth,” Kon snapped. “Whoop-de-frickin’-do. What else do you want from me?”

The shadows in the room flared, writhing once again with supernatural power. “If you insist on being obstinate, we can do this the hard way,” Midnighter warned.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

Midnighter’s lips twitched in what could have almost been a smile. “Very well then.”

Before Tim could even get in enough breath to shout a warning, the apartment around them dissolved into chaos. It felt like a fish hook had dug into Tim’s stomach and was yanking him forward, but he wasn’t registering any movement. Only an incomprehensible whorl of colors as the apartment they’d been standing in was replaced by the inside of a motel room.

Bile rose in the back of Tim’s throat, but he kept it down. This feeling was not entirely unfamiliar. He’d been inside someone else’s memories once before.

“What are we doing here?” Kon asked sharply, taking in their surroundings at the same time as Tim.

“Nothing you didn’t agree to,” Midnighter replied.

The motel room was covered from floor to ceiling in plastic sheets. It looked like it was straight out of a true crime thriller, but something more than that pervaded the space. It was a feeling. An ominous sort of dread that clung to every nook and cranny of the room. Something bad happened here.

Or, Tim thought as the Kon of this memory came walking out of the bathroom, will happen.

This Kon was clean cut in a way Tim’s never was. He stood in nothing but a pair of white linen pants with close cropped hair and blank eyes. His earring was missing, and all of the charm that made Kon Kon was nowhere to be seen. In its place, two large, dark wings sloped from his back. His head was ducked low as he used a towel to wipe his hands clean, but it snapped up at the sound of a firm knock on the door. He crossed the room quickly, walking straight through Tim in the cramped space.

“I don’t want you to see this,” Tim’s Kon said sharply. It wasn’t entirely clear who he was talking to. “Pick another memory. Any other memory.”

“No can do, angel. This is the one I want,” Midnighter replied, eyes glued hungrily to the sloping wings attached to Kon’s exposed back as he peeked through the door’s peephole in the memory. “Now shut up. We’re getting to the good part.”

Apparently satisfied with whatever he saw, memory Kon unlocked and opened the door, standing aside to let the newcomer in.

Tim hadn’t met Kara Zor-El more than once or twice, but he recognized her now. She was tall for a woman, with blond hair that fell past her shoulders in waves. She was dressed in a crop top, torn jeans, and an oversized leather jacket that Tim instantly recognized as the one Kon had been wearing nearly every day for the past year. There were no wings at her back, but then, Tim hadn’t expected there to be. Like Kal-El, she’d learned a long time ago how to hide them.

“Thank you for doing this,” Kon muttered in the memory, closing the door behind her and tossing the towel over his shoulder.

“I’m not gonna lie, I thought you would’ve backed out by now,” Kara replied, shrugging out of her jacket and tossing it onto the coat rack.

Kon shrugged. “Can’t. I don’t have the time to learn how to hide them. Getting here was hard enough.”

Kara shook her head. “You don’t have to explain. Trust me, I understand better than anyone wanting them gone.”

“You do?” Kon asked, surprised.

Kara didn’t look at him. Instead, she addressed her words to the walls as she walked around to examine the plastic sheeting Kon had laid out. “I didn’t exactly leave Heaven on the best of terms either. Sometimes it feels like it would be easier if I’d just made it a clean break.”

This was news to Tim. As far as he knew, Kara Zor-El’s wings were still white as snow, but he kept his mouth shut.

“Then why didn’t you?” Kon asked in the memory.

Snorting, Kara turned to face him again. “Are you kidding me? Wings are fucking awesome. Not to mention how much this is going to hurt.”

Kon winced.

“I’m just saying that I get it. They don’t feel right anymore, do they? Now that you’re not one with Heaven and all that crap. They feel like a weight. Like they’re dragging you down.”

“Exactly,” Kon breathed.

Kara grinned. “Then let’s chop ‘em off. Easy peasy, problem solved.”

Kon hesitated, but then steeled himself. He took a deep breath before nodding. “Okay. Did you bring your— ?”

“What do I look like, a novice?” Kara asked as she reached over her shoulder to pull a short sword out of the air. She must’ve been keeping it in the same place she kept her wings. “Now do you want to keep yapping, or are you ready to get to it?”

Kon dropped his towel onto the bathroom floor, before returning to stand opposite Kara. “I’m ready.”

“Good,” Kara said, her eyes flicking up and down his body, assessing. “Get on the bed.”

With one last lingering look at the blade in her hand, Kon did as he was told.

“Now, your instinct is going to be to fight me off,” Kara told him as she swung herself up to straddle his hips. Flames licked along the edge of the blade as she held it aloft. “I highly advise against it.”

Without any further warning, she took hold of his left wing and brought her blade down in a shallow arc that sliced clean through its base. The flames of the blade cauterized the wound and made the whole affair nearly bloodless, but there was nothing to be done for the violent sound of Kon screaming.

With a look of determination, Kara ignored the earsplitting cries and tossed the wing off to the side. It landed unceremoniously on the floor as she switched over to the right wing. “Hang in there kid, we’re halfway there,” she muttered.

The sounds coming from Kon had dwindled to whimpers. His whole body shook as he desperately held onto the plastic and fabric beneath him. Tim didn’t even realize he’d taken a step forward until the Kon of his own time was there pulling him back.

“There’s nothing you can do,” Tim’s Kon muttered. It sounded hollow.

In the memory, Kara brought the blade down again.

For whole minutes, there was nothing but the sound of her heavy breathing and Kon’s sobs. “Fuck,” Kara muttered at last. Careful not to jostle him, she climbed off Kon and made her way over to her jacket. She dug around for a moment in the pocket before coming up with a small bottle of green salve.

“I’m gonna give you something for the pain, okay?” she told Kon, but he could only whimper in response. Kara’s mouth twisted into a frown, but she held steady as she opened the bottle and began applying it’s contents liberally to the skin where Kon’s wings used to be. The effect was immediate. Kon’s whole body slumped as the tension left it.

But he didn’t stop shaking.

Tim covered his mouth with both hands to keep from making any noise.

“This is going to help you for now,” Kara told him as she finished applying the salve. “I’ll leave you with enough to last a few days, but after that you’re going to need to get yourself some more. I know a guy— name’s Tim. He has a shop. I’ll leave the address in the pocket of my jacket and you can give it back to me later. Tell him whatever you want, but make sure he gets you the good stuff, okay? There are downsides to being a celestial, and one of them is that normal painkillers won’t do shit for you. Do you understand?”

After a pause long enough to stop Tim’s heart, Kon finally groaned. “I— fuck— I hear you.”

“Good,” Kara replied briskly. “I’ll stay to help you clean all this shit up— way overkill by the way. How bloody did you think this was gonna get?”

Kon managed a weak laugh. “Shit, should’a known an amputation’d be clean. Silly me.”

Kara patted his shoulder reassuringly, safely high enough to avoid causing any discomfort. “You’ll know better next time.”

That set Kon into a fit of hysterics. “Fuck. If there’s a next time, I ain’t signing up for it.”

Kara’s smile flickered, but whatever she was thinking, she kept it to herself. “I’ll go get you some water.”

“I think that’s enough,” Midnighter said. The suddenness of his voice felt like an intrusion on the memory. It reminded Tim violently that he himself was an intruder here. They all were.

Midnighter raised his hand, and just like that, the scene melted away. This time, Tim barely felt it as the apartment rematerialized around them.

Abruptly, Tim realized there were tears in his eyes. His hands were still pressed against his mouth, holding in everything that was clawing at his insides to get out. Everything that had screamed at him to throw himself in front of the blade to spare Kon the pain.

“Tim?” Kon asked softly, one of his hands hesitantly touching Tim’s shoulder. “Are you alright?”

A sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob tore itself from Tim’s throat before he could stop it. He dropped his hands just enough to answer, “Am I— what the fuck, Kon— are you alright?”

Kon shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. “That was… a long time ago for me. I’m better now.” He attempted a small smile. “Thanks to you.”

Tim stared at him for a long uncomprehending moment before it dawned on him. “My shop. The day we met. You said— ”

Kon’s smile became a fraction more real. “Yeah.”

It all came flooding back. Kon had come in so cocky Tim nearly turned him away until he saw the way he was covering a wince with every shift of his jacket.

(Kara’s jacket. Why had she given it to him? Why had he never given it back? They weren’t friends as far as Tim knew, but he supposed there were some things you couldn’t share without developing some sort of relationship.)

Tim had prodded a little until Kon finally revealed the nature of his problem. He’d tried to lie, at first, but Tim was an expert liar, and it made him uniquely qualified to sniff out bullshit. Eventually he got the real story, most of which he’d already known from council briefings. He’d just needed a face to put to the name.

After that, he’d pulled Kon into the back to whip him up something with a little extra kick, and they’d talked while he worked. About the customers that had been into the shop that day, how Kon was finding Earth, and any number of other things. When the salve was ready, it had seemed only natural to offer to put it on for him. After all, he had to imagine the shoulder blades were a hard area to reach on one’s own.

It had been a good day. The best part was that Kon kept coming back. With excuses, at first, but then just because he wanted to see Tim. Somewhere along the way they had become friends. Tim had never stopped to consider what it all must have been like from Kon’s perspective. What it would be like to be in a new, strange place with new, strange customs while in pain and without a single friend in the world. He had only ever thought about how lucky he was that Kon had decided to keep coming back.

“Kon… ” Tim started to say. One of his hands was clutched to his chest while the other hovered over Kon’s. Just barely refraining from touching him. He didn’t know what he was going to say next, but there was an unbearable warmness spreading through him and the tears had yet to dissipate from his eyes. Just as he was taking in a breath to continue, Midnighter cut him off.

“I’ll help you,” he said, voice gruff and jarringly loud.

Tim’s body reacted to the intrusion before his mind could, making him spring away from Kon. “What?” he asked dumbly.

“I’m not going to say it twice,” Midnighter growled. “I’ll find the damn wings for you— on one condition.”

“What is it?” Kon asked. He sounded tired.

“I want three feathers.”

Tim frowned. “That’s illegal. Angelic grace isn’t up for bartering.”

“And I assume you came to me and not Brucie because you care oh so much about legality,” Midnighter purred. “That’s my price, and it won’t be changing. Take it or leave it.”

With a last dirty look pointed at Midnighter, Tim turned away from him and pulled Kon into a miniature huddle. “They’re your wings. What do you think?” he asked.

Kon bit his lip, considering. “He could do a lot of damage with that much angelic grace.”

“He can do a lot of damage whenever he wants,” Tim pointed out. “And the people who have your wings now could be just as dangerous. We don’t know.”

Kon frowned. “You’re right. I don’t think we have a choice.”

“We’ve come this far,” Tim agreed.

They shared a look of understanding and turned around to face Midnighter again. “We accept your proposal,” Tim declared.

“I’m ecstatic,” Midnighter deadpanned. Without any further ceremony, he reached up as if to unscrew a lightbulb and pulled down a compass from nowhere. It was a little smaller than the palm of his hand and made from dark brown wood and glass. As he held the compass, shadows snaked from around his wrist onto the edges of it, forming words in a language Tim couldn’t read around the circumference of it before seeping into the wood.

“That should do it,” he announced. “Here.” He tossed the compass through the air to Tim, who caught it against his chest. “Follow that, and you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

Tim held the compass out for both of them to look at. The needle was pointing in a vaguely southwestern direction, and stayed there when Tim tried to turn it. He caught Kon’s eye over it, and both of them nodded.

Returning his gaze to Midnighter, Tim said, “Thank you. It was, if not a pleasure, then at least interesting doing business with you.”

Midnighter inclined his head as if in acknowledgement.

“If that’s all, we’ll be going now,” Tim added.

Kon already had one hand wrapped around Tim’s bicep, ready to drag him out if they were delayed even a second longer when Midnighter’s voice stopped them both in their tracks. “One more thing,” he said. “You and I, little witchling, need to have a chat.”

“No,” Kon said immediately, stepping fully in front of Tim. “You got what you wanted, and we got what we wanted. We’re leaving.”

Despite the wall of angelic muscle between them, Midnighter was unfazed. If anything, he seemed vaguely amused by the antics of the young— the only reason they’d survived this long. “Time for you to go, yes. But he and I still have business. I’d advise you not to make me ask again.”

Mustering all the grace under pressure he’d learned from Dick over years of study, Tim laid a hand on Kon’s arm. He wouldn’t have blamed even an angel for refusing to look away from the constant threat of a centuries old witch, but Kon turned his head and looked at him. “It’s okay,” Tim murmured, reassuringly. “If he wanted to kill me, he would have done it by now. Go wait in the hall. I’ll be right out.”

Kon faltered, torn between two sirens. Tim knew it went against his every instinct to walk away from a threat— particularly when one of his friends was involved— but he was betting on the trust and respect Kon had for him to win out over even the most ingrained instinct.

He bet right.

Kon nodded reluctantly and turned around as if to leave, but paused in front of Tim.

They were close. Too close. Tim’s heart pounded with it when Kon laid his hands on Tim’s shoulder and ducked his head just enough to make the moment feel safely ensconced between them. Private, despite their spectator. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Despite himself, the corner of Tim’s mouth twitched up. “Me? Never.”

Kon hesitated. There was something else just on the tip of his tongue, but when Tim pulled one of his hands off his shoulder to press the compass into it, he swallowed it and took a step back. He looked at Midnighter one last time, letting his gaze alone hold all the threats he wasn’t quite reckless enough to make out loud, and then he left. The door clicked shut behind him with worrying finality.

And then, all on it’s own, the lock slid home.

Tim’s head snapped around to look at it so fast, he feared for the state of his neck. There was his only escape route, gone. His heart beat jack-rabbit fast in his chest. He knew— he knew that Midnighter wasn’t going to kill him, but there were far worse things a witch could do.

“Weren’t you scared I’d tell him?” Midnighter asked, whisper soft behind Tim.

Tim cursed himself for turning his back on the threat in the room, but when he looked at Midnighter again, the witch looked perfectly at ease. All the threat was gone from his body, although that didn’t mean much. Tim had already seen how devastatingly fast the shadows all around them could creep in.

He swallowed. “Tell him what?”

The amusement was back. It sat comfortably in the upticked corner of Midnighter’s mouth, likely the closest thing to a feeling that he still knew how to express. “About your little power ambitions, witchling.” It was the only title he’d used for Tim so far, and yet this time it held extra significance. A warning to remind Tim of his place. “You can hide it from beasts, mortals, and idiots like your friend out there— ” Tim bristled on Kon’s behalf, only managing to hold his tongue when he thought of Kon’s parting warning— “but when one of our own gets uppity, we start to talk. Even me.”

Of course Midnighter knew. What nightmare would be complete without the knowledge of Tim’s greatest secret and the means to reveal it? “You can’t tell him,” Tim said too fast. He hadn’t even thought to worry that Midnighter might reveal that particular secret, but now it was all he could think about. Calling Kon back in to tell him was one of those things that might just have been worse than Midnighter killing him outright.

“Of course I can,” Midnighter replied, eyebrows raised at Tim’s obvious discomposure. “You can calm down, witchling. I’m not going to. He’s not my problem. You are.”

“What?”

Midnighter took one step forward. Then another. He prowled closer and closer with predatory intent— but Tim refused to budge. He forced his feet to stay glued to the ground, even when Midnighter finally stopped within reaching distance.

What came from his mouth next was not the grating baritone Tim had come to think of as his, but something altogether different. It reverberated through the room as if making an echo chamber out of the crappy apartment, melodic like a choir and dissonant like static at the same time. It was not one voice, but many layered on top of each other. Old and young, male and female— all devastatingly powerful.

“Did you think us so shackled that we would roll over when the reaper says heel?” the voices intoned. “You will never ascend without our approval and we. WON’T. GIVE IT.”

The volume of the voices raised to a roar, pushing Tim back like a physical wind despite the dead air in the apartment. His back hit the wall with a thud, and he struggled against the invisible force holding him in place, but it wouldn’t budge. Midnighter watched him placidly from a few feet away, unmoved by his panic.

“Please,” Tim begged. “Let me— ”

“Prove yourself?” Midnighter asked, once again himself. Amusement rolled off him in cruel waves, but his expression was carved from stone. “How? No one has ascended since Constantine over a century ago, but for some reason you think you can convince me that you’re special. Un-fucking-likely. You’re a runt. A pipsqueak who hasn’t even lived three decades. I believe the word being whispered in the ether is impertinent.”

“Is that what you think?” Tim asked softly. Even his fear could not override the outrage that reared its head at Midnighter’s cool dismissal. Tim was young, yes, but he was also qualified. There were many reasons for him to doubt his ascension, but his abilities were not one of them.

Midnighter snorted. “If I thought you were impertinent, you wouldn’t still be standing here.” He let that threat sink in for a moment. Then, unexpectedly, the amusement curled in on itself. It dropped away like a discarded jacket, and in its place was an empty, echoing hollowness. “But I do think you’re in over your head. You don’t know what you’re asking for. What it will take from you.”

“Apollo,” Tim said hoarsely, hoping he wouldn’t be killed for uttering the name.

Against all laws of physics, Midnighter went even more still. “Yes,” he said. “My lover, centuries ago. Dead now, of course. But dead to me even sooner because of this.” He gestured to his body, the impossible, twisting shadows of it hiding just under the veneer of a man.

Cautiously, Tim nodded. “I’ve heard the story. You put it in your contract that he be released from hell, and pulled him out yourself when it was done.”

“Bloody and screaming,” Midnighter agreed. “You know your history.”

Tim did his best to incline his head at the compliment. “I do my best.”

“Clearly not, since you didn’t learn a damn thing from my story. You have a perfectly good angel of your own currently darkening my doorstep, yet you’re here. Trying to convince me you deserve the right to sign your soul away. I can’t tell if you’re stupid or just ungrateful.”

All the fear that had begun to dull flooded through Tim again. “How did you… ”

Midnighter looked unimpressed by Tim’s slowness. “You can’t seriously believe that you were being subtle.”

Tim considered, for a moment, denying it. But what would’ve been the point? “It doesn’t matter how I feel about Kon. I’m doing this for him. When he fell, the Balance was tipped, and the only way to restore it now is either to add strength to the dark or take it from the light. Either I ascend, or Kon has to die. It’s not a hard choice.”

The silence that greeted Tim’s words was surprisingly thoughtful. This, it would seem, was the first time Tim had provided Midnighter with something he actually had to consider for a moment.

“Did you know he hated me for it?” the witch asked abruptly. “Was that part included in your bed time stories?”

Tim hesitated. “No. It wasn’t,” he admitted at length.

“Well he did. Apollo was a proud bastard— and worse, a goddamn romantic, if you’ll forgive the pun.” Tim got the impression it was forgive the pun or die, so he forgave the pun. “You’d think he might’ve been even a little bit happy to break out of Hell, but no. All he did was cry and yell and bitch about my soul.” He huffed a laugh. “The ascension did such a number on me that it took years to even figure out what the hell he was so upset about.”

Midnighter’s head tilted to the side. The shadows around him seemed fainter when he thought about Apollo. Like mist dissolving in the golden rays of sunlight. “I’ve forgotten now,” he said softly. “What it felt like to love him.” His eyes went sharp, returning abruptly from a time centuries ago to focus with searing intensity on Tim. “But you don’t have to go through that. You can love that boy out there until you get old and die from it. Sure, he’ll outlive you, but a few decades together would be better than the centuries you’ll have like me.”

For a moment, it felt so close Tim could almost taste it. A future together. Him and Kon, living over his shop and bickering like an old married couple. Being an old married couple. They could get a window garden. A cat. Maybe even a kid, one day. A little girl to call their own. Tim didn’t think he’d mind growing old while Kon stayed young. It might’ve even been a comfort to know Kon would always be there to protect their daughter.

But then the fantasy broke. A home takes two, and that became impossible the moment Kon fell.

“I can’t,” Tim said at last. He was ashamed to realize there were tears on his face. “It’s not possible. I have to do this. For all our sakes.”

Midnighter looked genuinely disappointed. “So close. You were so close.” He sighed. “Fuck. Guess we’ll have to do this the hard way.”

“Wait, what—?”

The invisible wind slammed Tim’s head back against the wall, pushing him against it with renewed force until it felt like his lungs might burst from the pressure. In an instant, Midnighter’s body was pressed against his, all the air between them evaporating. A hand closed around Tim’s throat with bruising force as another pressed palm-flat against his chest— right over his pounding heart.

And then the voices— the many layered, echoing, horrible voices— poured forth from Midnighter’s mouth. “You will taste the fruit of knowledge which you seek to consume and see how it shrivels on your tongue. When your will has been sapped and your resolve cracked beyond repair, then you shall return to us on your knees and beg we grant mercy for your sins. You will regret asking that which should not be answered.”

Cold radiated out of the palm pressed against Tim’s chest. It seeped past skin and muscle, blood and bone until it reached the core of him. Not his heart, but something else. Something that had glowed with warmth all Tim’s life— a presence so constant, he’d forgotten how to feel it until this moment when its sanctity was violated and suddenly Tim could feel nothing but it.

Pain. It exploded into him like ice so cold it burned, lancing through his chest. He screamed. Shouted until his voice went hoarse, but it made no difference. The hands didn’t budge and the pain didn’t let up.

Until, all at once, it did.

Midnighter stepped away, taking the wind with him. Without the support, Tim fell to his knees, breath coming in ragged gasps as he tried to reorient himself. “What—” he managed on a desperate inhale— “have you done?”

“I’m sorry, witchling,” Midnighter said. There was no regret in his voice, but the apology seemed nonetheless genuine. “Personally I don’t have a problem with you, but they do. It’s for your own good anyway.”

Tim sincerely doubted that.

A silver-toed boot nudged Tim’s ribs. “Hurry up down there, you’re getting to be an eyesore.”

He’s killed people with these boots, Tim thought suddenly. It made sense. The stories always claimed Midnighter was a notoriously physical fighter for a witch, and silver-toed boots would kill a wolf just as surely as a silver bullet would, if applied correctly.

Tim filed that information away without any trace of fear, although he knew it should be there. He groped around for it inside himself but found only a ball of ice where warmth was supposed to be. “You took my soul,” he stated matter of factly, pushing himself laboriously to his knees, then struggling the rest of the way to his feet.

Midnighter snorted. “That would take a great deal more power than even I have on hand. I just cut you off from it for a bit. Everything’s still there, you just can’t access it.”

Tim’s head tilted to the side. “Oh. That sounds invasive.”

“Yes, it is. Got a problem?”

He should. He knew he should. Soul jacking seemed like the sort of thing one should get worked up about, but it’s very nature prevented such a thing. A catch-22. “I should go now,” Tim announced, having regained both his feet and his breath.

“Good idea,” Midnighter agreed easily. “Don’t come back until you can give me better answers than you did this time.”

Tim didn’t take a step or even blink, but suddenly he was standing out in the hall, facing Kon’s back as the angel in question pounded on the door to the apartment. He looked like he’s been at it for some time, but Tim couldn’t remember hearing anything. A muffling spell then. Probably for the best considering the volume at which Tim had screamed.

“Kon,” he said to get the angel’s attention.

In an instant, Kon had whirled around and scooped Tim into a bone crushing hug. “Shit man, you had me scared there for a second. The door locked and I thought— ”

“That he was going to kill me,” Tim agreed, patting Kon’s back awkwardly. “The thought did cross my mind, but as expected, Midnighter had no interest in doing me harm. You can let go now.”

“Right, of course,” Kon said quickly, releasing him. “So, what did he want?”

“He offered me some advice concerning my magic. Nothing that would interest you,” Tim replied smoothly. He might have been having a complete non-reaction to his current predicament, but experience suggested Kon would not be so calm, and they simply didn’t have time for the angel’s bluster.

Kon frowned, clearly not believing Tim. “... Really,” he said.

Tim looked him right in the eye, allowing no trace of deceit to pass his face. “Really.”

Kon searched him long and hard for any cracks, but there were none. In the end, he let it go. “I guess we should get going then,” he said, pulling the compass from the pocket he’d shoved it in.

“That would be wise.”

Tim turned on his heel and started down the hallway, confident in the knowledge that Kon would follow.

Chapter Text

“So… that was intense,” Kon said, breaking the silence.

Tim hummed in vague agreement, not looking away from the window of the cab. They were heading north toward the business district on the direction of Midnighter’s compass. So far it had been quiet between them, but now Kon was looking at him in a determined way that seemed more like a threat than a promise of conversation. Tim had already decided not to engage. He was too busy thinking.

He couldn’t put his finger on precisely what it was, but something had been off since they left Midnighter’s apartment. It tickled the edges of Tim’s senses, letting him know that he’d missed something that should have been obvious, but every time he reached for it, it slipped further out of his grasp. This didn’t bother Tim. He could be patient.

“Is that what all witches are like?” Kon asked. There was something odd in his voice, but he wasn’t showing signs of distress, so Tim dismissed it as irrelevant.

“Of course not,” he replied, still gazing sightlessly at the streets passing them by. He didn’t realize until he’d already started speaking that he’d broken his own vow of silence. “Witches are individuals like every other creature. No two are exactly the same.”

“I know that, but are they similar?”

Well, in for a penny out for a pound. Tim pulled himself away from the window to look at Kon properly. The angel was holding himself tensely, hands curled into fists where they rested on his thighs, and there was a furrow in his brow that looked like thinly veiled concern. For the life of him, Tim couldn’t guess what could have put it there. “In some ways yes, and in others no,” he replied.

Kon didn’t quite roll his eyes, but it was a close thing. “Thanks, that really clears things up.”

“You’re welcome,” Tim replied, and turned back to his window. He didn’t want anything to do with whatever overcomplicated trivialities were going on behind Kon’s tight expression.

Beyond the confines of their cab, cafes and fast food restaurants slid by. The city traffic was smoother than Tim would have expected for a Friday afternoon. Usually there would be more people out running errands, rushing somewhere to meet up with friends, or simply trying to get home from work. He checked his watch. It wasn’t rush hour yet, but lots of people went home early on Fridays.

“Is something wrong?” Kon asked abruptly, breaking Tim from his thoughts.

Tim inspected him again. His concern seems to be laced with a greater amount of anxiety than before, but he was still within reasonable limits. It had yet to become a problem Tim needed to concern himself with, so he ignored it. “Not yet.”

Traffic patterns relied on a great deal of factors. Any small thing could throw them into disarray, but usually the result was greater congestion, not less. It could be nothing, but something was wrong, and this was all Tim had to go off of.

Beside him, Kon drew in a great breath of air and started to say, “Tim, I— ”

But Tim interrupted him by suddenly leaning forward and rapping his knuckles sharply against the glass separating them from the cabbie. “Excuse me,” he said loudly.

The cabbie glanced back with a visible frown of confusion, but slid the glass open anyway. “What is it?” he asked sourly. He didn’t seem pleased that one of his passengers should take any interest in him at all.

Tim was undeterred. “Traffic seems a little light today, doesn’t it?” he asked pleasantly.

Looking nothing short of appalled that Tim would be making something so offensive as small talk, the cabbie said, “Do you want to spend the rest of the day in bumper to bumper traffic?”

“No, sir,” Tim replied quickly. He didn’t want the conversation to be derailed by one man’s foul mood. “I was just wondering if you knew why it might be that there are so few people out.” It being Gotham, ‘few’ was an entirely relative term, but the cabbie understood his meaning.

With a glance at Tim in his rearview mirror that heavily implied he thought Tim was slower than a subway rat gorged on pizza, the cabbie said, “‘Suppose most people are still at work. Traffic doesn’t pick up on Tuesdays until later on.”

The missing piece clicked into place. “Thank you for your time,” Tim said quickly before closing the glass divider with a snap and returning to his seat. “We’ve been missing for four days,” he told Kon simply.

Kon had watched Tim’s entire interaction with the cabbie unfold in front of him with a sort of horrified awe, but now the spell holding him in place was broken. “I’m sorry— what?” he blurted.

“He said it was Tuesday,” Tim explained evenly. “When we went to Midnighter’s apartment it was only Friday.” The sudden time displacement would explain the tingling in Tim’s senses. Magic was inherently linked to time, it made sense that Tim’s own would’ve reacted to such a sudden jump. “It’s likely we spent longer in your memories than Midnighter let on,” Tim continued. “The mind can be a tricky place.”

“Four days?” Kon asked, incredulous. “We haven’t eaten or slept in four days? Shouldn’t we be, I don’t know, feeling that?”

Tim shrugged. “Magic.”

“Why are the fuck are you being so calm about this?” Kon asked. He sounded upset, but Tim couldn’t place if it was anger or panic.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I instructed Steph to take care of my shop as long as we were gone, and we haven’t missed anything significant enough for our absence to be noticed.” Tim wasn’t expected to check in with Bruce about the solstice for another week, not that Kon knew anything about that. “The way I see it, this causes us no ill effects.”

“Except for the fact that that’s four more days my wings have been in the hands of freaking lunatics,” Kon snapped.

“Except for that,” Tim agreed. “But there’s nothing we can do about that now except try to make our search from this point forward as expedient as possible.”

Kon pressed himself back into his seat, covering his face with his hands. “This is so not good. Who even knows what could have happened while Midnighter was jerking us around. They could’ve completely torn my wings apart by now! Or the triumvirate could’ve noticed our absence and started to investigate— or literally anything else.”

Tim was struck by the sudden urge to say something comforting. It was illogical, but something deep and guttural inside him revolted at the thought of how upset Kon was getting. He’d been able to ignore the disturbance when it had been small, but looking at Kon now, he had the overwhelming sensation that it simply wasn’t right for the angel to be anything less than perfectly happy.

Tim frowned even as the thought crossed his mind. It didn’t make any sense, but then again, Tim could remember doing many nonsensical things for Kon. It all felt so far removed now, the memories only viewable as if through a haze of smoke, but there were undoubtedly hundreds of them. Certainly more than Tim had the time to sift through, and all prominently featuring the angel beside him.

And yet when Tim looked at Kon now, he felt nothing except that faint underlying urge to protect him— and even that was nothing more than an item on his to-do list.

“It will be alright,” he offered stiltedly. It was a stupid thing to say, but Kon reacted to the words as if they were some sort of balm, his muscles finally starting to relax. “If anything really bad had happened, we would probably know,” Tim continued. “The sky would have changed color at the very least. I’d also expect a noticeable uptick in locusts.”

And the tension was back as quickly as it had gone. “Not helping, Tim!” Kon hissed through gritted teeth.

Tim had thought it would’ve been a comforting point. Apparently not. He stayed silent.

Kon leaned forward until his seatbelt stretched farther than was advisable and his elbows rested on his knees. “Okay, four days. No big deal. I’ve gone on video game binges longer than this, and you’re here with me, so nobody would’ve even noticed I was missing.” His eyes flashed to Tim, calculating. “But somebody would notice if you were gone that long.”

“Yes, probably,” Tim agreed. He thought of the voicemail from Dick that he’d never returned. “I made no promises to contact my family, but they might’ve started to wonder by now, and Stephanie is probably worried. She would’ve expected us back days ago. Barbara might have a thing or two to say as well since we never contacted her to tell her how things went with Midnigther, and she would be even more likely than Stephanie to take her concerns to the council.”

Kon cursed. “Okay, okay, so we talk to them. Easy as pie. We can stop by the shop on our way to pick up my wings and tell Steph we’re both still ticking. That way we’re free to keep looking for my wings without having to look over our shoulders every five seconds for the Triumverate’s enforcers here to execute me for losing valuable magical property.”

“That’s an exaggeration. They would have to put you to trial first, and even then, execution seems like a stretch.”

“Tim.”

“I wouldn’t let them.”

Kon went still. So still, in fact, that Tim nearly gave into the urge to check for a pulse, but before he could do anything rash, all the air left Kon’s lungs in one long sigh. When it was over, his shoulders were left loose and low. “I know,” he said. There was something heavy and complicated in his voice, but Tim couldn’t decipher it.

Regardless of the pieces he was missing, Tim understood— though he didn’t understand how— that he’d said something too big for Kon to carry, so he decided to move the conversation along before they got completely off track. “What you’re suggesting seems like a waste of time. If they haven’t contacted anyone at this point, they’re unlikely to do so before we’re able to retrieve your wings, and as you pointed out earlier, time is rather of the essence on that front.”

“That’s true,” Kon replied, still sounding shaken, “but don’t they deserve to know we’re alright? I don’t know your family as well as you do, but I’m sure they’re going crazy with worry about you. And I really don’t want the higher ups to find out about all this.”

Tim considered his friend’s words. There was no way he could add it all up that made the emotional security of a few people more important than the mission they were on, but Kon’s safety was unquestionably Tim’s biggest priority, and the angel did have a point that Stephanie and Barbara posed a threat to that if either became too desperate. Appeasing them would ensure Kon’s safety, and that, in the end, was what convinced Tim.

The cabbie looked on the verge of revolt when Tim gave him their new destination, but in the end, he took them there all the same. He zoomed off as soon as he had Tim’s money in hand, leaving them face to face with the false front of Tim’s shop.

“Maybe we should— “ Kon started to say, but Tim had already walked right past him and opened the door.

The faint wash of magic as he stepped over the threshold was a peculiar sensation that drew his attention to the cold place at the center of his chest. It made it neither worse nor better, but instead felt something like a feather brushing against some long lost phantom limb. Eerie.

Tim was so preoccupied with this sensation, that he almost missed the blond that came darting out from behind the counter to launch herself at him.

“Tim!” Stephanie said as she hugged him. “I thought you were dead!”

Tim stood still and waited for her to let go before replying, “Did you tell anyone that?”

Now holding him at arm's length, Stephanie frowned. “I— no. I didn’t want to get you in trouble. Is that really all you have to say to me? No, ‘thanks for watching the shop, Steph’ or ‘it’s good to see you too?’”

“Thank you for watching the shop, Steph. It’s good to see you too,” Tim echoed back expressionlessly.

“Not funny.”

Her playful outrage was starting to grow into concern, and Tim could envision with startling clarity the scene that she was about to make. He had known Stephanie Brown for years, and not once in all that time had she exhibited the good judgment to know when it was best not to push. He needed to get out of there.

“I’m going to go call Barbara to let her know we’re okay,” he said, neatly side stepping Stephanie to head back to his workshop.

“I’ll just… stay here then,” she said, confused. She and Kon watched him go. When the curtain swished closed behind him, he heard her turn to him and ask, “Okay, what the fuck is going on with him,” but he didn’t bother to listen to the rest as he went in search of his scrying bowl. It took a moment to set up, but only that. Soon he was standing over a bowl of enchanted water and looking down at the face of his friend.

“Tim,” Barbara said, looking surprised. “It’s good to see you. How’d it go?”

“We got what we needed,” Tim reported. “Midnighter was reluctant to help, but we won him over in the end.”

Barbara laughed humorlessly. “Yeah, no. I’m gonna need more than that. You were gone for four days, Tim. That’s ‘start writing the eulogy’ territory.”

“We got held up.”

It was strange seeing all these people and feeling nothing at all. He knew this was his home, his life, his loved ones, but it didn’t mean anything to him anymore. If he went through with his plan, very soon it was never going to mean anything to him ever again.

Barbara sighed. “Are you alone?”

Tim glanced at the curtain. “Yes.”

“Good. Then you can tell me what Midnighter said about your ascension.”

“My ascension?” Tim echoed, stalling. He had intended to lie to Barbara just as he had to Kon and Stephanie, but now he considered the possibility that she already knew. Maybe the fates had thought it funny to show their acolyte her friend in pain.

“Yes, Tim. Surely he must have had something to say.”

Apparently not, then. Tim considered the best way to navigate this. “The witches are displeased with me, but as I told Midnighter, there isn’t anything they can do to stop me.”

Barbara pinched the bridge of her nose. “Please tell me you didn’t actually say that.”

“Of course I didn’t.” Not technically a lie.

Barbara studied him. “And how are you doing?” Tim stayed politely silent until she added, “Come on, Tim. In two weeks you’re going to become just like him, and you really don’t have any doubts you want to voice?”

I’m already like him, Tim didn’t say.

“It will take me a few centuries to reach his level of expertise.”

“Tim,” Barbara said. She sounded tired. Of everyone on the council, she had been the most supportive of his plan. Bruce had been struck mute by the very idea, and Dick had vehemently opposed it, but Barbara had always understood its necessity. She’d never tried to talk him into backing out or changing his mind. It was only now when Tim lacked the emotions to feel touched by it that he understood how heavily the weight of it was on her shoulders.

“My convictions haven’t changed,” Tim told her. “Have yours?”

She stared at him for a long moment, frustration flitting across her face before she ruthlessly shut it down. “No.”

Tim nodded, unsurprised. “Then I have to go. We still haven’t found Kon’s wings, but we’re closing in. This will all be over soon.”

“Not too soon, I hope,” Barbara muttered before splashing her hand across the water and severing their connection.

Tim didn’t waste time puzzling over her meaning. He put away his scrying tools and pulled out his phone. It took him a minute to decide what an appropriate text might be. In the end, he chose two sentences that he hoped would be enough to keep Dick out of his hair for the foreseeable future without tipping him off that anything was out of the ordinary.

Taking some time for myself. See you at the council meeting Thursday.

When he returned to the shop proper, the first thing he saw was Stephanie and Kon, heads bowed as they conversed in low voices. Their conversation halted the moment they saw them, replaced with averted eyes and guilty expressions.

“How was Babs?” Stephanie asked, forcing a light tone.

“Fine,” Tim replied. Turning to Kon, he added, “We should get going.”

Kon and Stephanie shared a look. “About that,” Kon said. “I think I can take it from here.”

“What do you mean.” It didn’t come out as a question because he hadn’t meant it to be.

Wincing at Tim’s tone, Kon ran a hand along the back of his neck awkwardly. “With the compass, finding my wings should be a piece of cake. And I seriously doubt the humans that took them will be able to put up any resistance I can’t handle either, so there’s really no need for you to— ”

“I’m coming,” Tim interrupted firmly. “We don’t know what you might be walking into.”

There was something deliberately evasive about the way Kon refused to meet Tim’s eyes. “I can take care of this on my own. I’ll be there and back before you even notice I’m gone.”

“You’ve already proven that you’re incapable of that,” Tim said.

Kon flinched.

“Tim— ” Stephanie started, storm clouds gathering in the shape of her brows.

He didn’t give her the chance to finish that thought. “We’re going,” he said, and without waiting for anyone else’s permission, he swept past both of them and out the front door. Kon would follow or he wouldn’t. Either way, Tim was going to find those wings.

The compass led them in frosty silence to the foot of a skyscraper. Tim had to crane his head all the way back to catch even a glimpse of it’s top floors.

“LexCorp?” Kon asked, reading the sign over the front entrance. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“That’s only because you’re still new to Earth,” Tim said. “LexCorp has their fingers in a little bit of everything. Media, medical supplies, industrial equipment, kid’s toys… pretty much anything that’s influential and lucrative.” He paused. “If a little birdy is to be believed, the CEO has close ties to a megachurch as well. Very close ties.”

“He’s banging a priest?”

“Not that I know of.” Tim wasn’t really sure why he’d said it so suggestively. Habit, he supposed. Was he normally such an enigmatic bastard? Did he do it for dramatic flair, or because he needed to be mysterious to feel safe? An interesting query, but one for later. To ensure no further misunderstandings, Tim corrected, “I meant that he’s almost certainly funding them.”

“Oh,” Kon said, sounding embarrassed.

“Shall we go in then?” Tim asked superfluously. He was already approaching the front door, Kon tripping along in his wake. Everything about the angel had seemed wrong footed since they visited Midnighter. Tim hoped it wouldn’t be a problem should they end up in a sticky situation.

The lobby of LexCorp was huge— at least four stories tall. It seemed to stretch upward far further than was natural with large windows covering most of the street facing wall, while the back wall consisted of an excessive bank of elevators. Seven, by Tim’s quick count. To their right was a long wooden desk that seated numerous receptionists and to the left was a security check that funneled men and women in business suits and lab coats through a metal detector and toward the elevators.

Standing just inside the doorway and looking around like lost toddlers, Tim and Kon were already starting to draw attention. One security guard in particular was staring directly at them with one hand resting on the holster of his taser and the other beginning to reach for his walkie talkie. Flashing the guard a disarming smile, Tim grabbed Kon’s wrist and quickly pulled him into the line of people waiting for the metal detectors.

“This would be easier if your clothing didn’t stick out so much,” Tim commented as the line moved forward at an alarming pace. It wasn’t terribly long to begin with.

“I would never dress like that,” Kon said in disgust, indicating the suited men and women around them. “Not even to avoid security.”

It was a ridiculous statement, but Tim felt no urge to protest it. He remembered liking Kon’s usual dress: jeans that hugged his ass, a shirt that stretched thin over his shoulders, and a leather jacket, soft and supple whenever Tim’s skin brushed against it. He remembered the feeling that came with thinking about Kon’s body, but now it was nowhere to be found. These observations were stale. Facts memorized and repeated from a class he hadn’t even wanted to take.

They’d reached the front of the line. The security guard that had been staring at them earlier was luckily stationed against the wall, but Tim found the guards manning the metal detectors no less forbidding. They were shuffled quickly through the arches, Kon having to stop and be scanned manually when his piercings set it off. Tim took advantage of this small distraction and the weaknesses of mortal machines to charm his own metal detector into silence as he passed through it. He wasn’t about to risk someone taking a poke around in his bag.

The guards looked at them both suspiciously, but seemed to have come to the conclusion that they were some employee’s wayward nephews, because they were allowed to pass unmolested.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Kon said once they were out of earshot.

“That was just for appearances. The real security won’t come until the elevators at least,” Tim replied.

Kon seemed less than pleased with this answer, but kept his silence until they reached the elevator bank. Stalling them under the guise of digging something out of his bag, Tim pulled both of them off to the side. “What’s the compass say?”

Their heads were ducked close together, the bulk of Kon’s body hiding the compass from the main lobby. Tim found himself abruptly pressed up against a wall, still holding his open bag in front of him as if looking for something in it. The bag was the only thing maintaining the distance between them.

“Inconclusive,” Kon announced, frowning down at the needle. It was spinning in lazy circles, never settling in one spot.

“That must mean we’re close,” Tim said. He looked around the lobby critically. “We can’t search the whole building. There isn’t time, we’d be discovered before we were even halfway through.”

Kon’s expression turned thoughtful. “Not the whole thing,” he said, turning the compass on its side. The needle pointed straight down.

“Could just be gravity,” Tim pointed out.

Kon slowly rotated the compass every which way, but now that it had found it’s direction it stuck to it until it was completely level again. “Could be,” Kon said at last. “But I don’t think so.”

“Me neither,” Tim admitted. He couldn’t help but think that down meant fewer escape routes and a much greater possibility of getting trapped with no way out. He could only imagine what the people who had Kon’s wings might do with the rest of him.

Not that Tim would ever let that happen.

“Come on, let's go,” he said, pushing Kon’s hand toward his pocket until he got the picture and put away the compass. He led both of them to the elevators, pressing the down button. An elevator arrived in seconds, and they piled onto it together along with another woman holding an oversized coffee and more papers than seemed advisable.

Tim threw out his hand to stop the door from closing and turned to the woman. “Don’t you think you should catch the next one?” he asked politely, a pointed smile twisting on his lips.

She frowned at him, opening her mouth as if to chastise his rudeness, but before she could say a word, Tim pushed a little magic into his eyes, lighting his irises up a deep violet. It was only a second, but a second was long enough for the woman’s mouth to snap shut. “Of course,” she squeaked, inching past Tim and out of the elevator as fast as she could.

“Have a nice day,” Tim called after her. He let his hand drop, and a moment later the elevator door slid closed. He hit the button for the basement. His stomach swooped at the sensation of the car lurching into motion as quiet, cheery music began to play from invisible speakers.

Tim kept his eyes straight ahead as he turned his energies toward planning the next step of their infiltration, but the way Kon was frowning at him in the peripheral of his vision was too distracting to focus on anything else for long.

“What?” he asked when he realized Kon wasn’t going to speak first.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“We couldn’t let her ride down with us, it would’ve been too dangerous,” Tim replied without bothering to look at him.

“Still,” Kon said firmly. “There were other ways. You didn’t have to scare her.”

Tim looked at Kon properly. The angel’s jaw was set, his shoulders straight. He looked like he was ready for a fight, and Tim didn’t think it was the one in the basement. He stared back at Kon until he could feel the tension in the elevator nearing some sort of breaking point. All Kon’s concern and anxiety was twisting itself into an ugly sort of anger that hung in the air between them thick enough to cut. He was choosing a hell of a time to bring it up.

“Before we’re done, I might have to scare a lot more people,” Tim said quietly. A warning.

“Yeah, well,” Kon snapped. “There’s a difference between what you have to do, and what you’re doing because it’s easier.”

If only he knew the things Tim was willing to do.

He turned back to face the doors just as they dinged open. “I’ll keep your protest in mind.”

The hallway that stretched out before them was devoid of life and lit by harsh fluorescent lights. Looking at it sent Tim’s mind down a brief rabbit hole as he wondered how much one would have to pay the janitorial staff of a quasi-legal, definitely perilous supernatural lab. Quite a bit, he’d wager, based on the spotless nature of the tiled floor.

“Come on.”

They exited the elevator with Tim in the lead. He had to prompt Kon with a pointed look to get him to take out the compass and start guiding them down the twisting hallways.

Every stretch of white corridor revealed to them looked identical to the last, save new arrangements of doors. There seemed to be a great many doors. They were all fairly identical: heavy looking steel things with keypad locks. Magic and technology were never the best of friends unless your name was Barbara Gordon, but Tim wasn’t particularly worried.

They made it three turns before they ran into anyone else.

He looked to be mid forties in a lab coat and slacks. There were glasses pushed up into his curly hair and a clipboard tucked under his arm that looked fairly important, but not as important as the badge clipped to his lab coat with two black bars at the bottom.

“Who are— ”

With a flick of Tim’s fingers, his mouth was wired shut and his limbs rendered imobile. “We’ll be taking that, I think,” Tim said, striding over to the frozen man and plucking the badge off him. Holding him in place with a little bit of magic wasn’t too difficult, but it was a short term spell that wouldn’t hold once they’d turned the corner on the next hallway. Then the man— Carl, his badge said— would be free and clear to run all the way to security. That wasn’t something Tim was prepared to let happen yet.

Kon seemed to have come to the same conclusions. “What are we going to do with him?” he asked Tim cautiously.

Tim’s head tilted to the side as he thought. They could knock the man out. That’d be the obvious option, but he had no way of knowing how soon Carl would be missed. No, it would be safer if this had never happened at all.

“Tim?” Kon asked, sensing the change in the air as energy began to crackle beneath Tim’s skin. “What are you about to do?”

“He won’t be able to turn us in if he can’t remember ever running into us.”

Kon was frowning so hard the expression threatened to become permanent. “What do you— ?”

Tim didn’t wait for the end of his question. Twirling the stolen badge idly in his free hand, he placed two fingers on Carl’s temple, and, without ceremony, began to dig.

Carl’s frightened eyes— the only part of him free from Tim’s immobilization spell— darted manically around before slowly misting over and going still, but Tim paid them no mind. He focused on the thin wisps of purple magic unspooling from Carl’s temples and wrapping around his fingers. They crept along his wrist in spirals until they disappeared under his shirtsleeve. It felt like cool water running over his skin.

Memories. They flashed through Tim’s mind as they vanished from Carl’s. A cold omelet for breakfast, the result of another fight with his husband. A cat he was on his way home to feed. The complex patterns of a chemical formula he’d been working on a couple minutes ago. The cute delivery boy who always stocked the breakroom on Tuesday’s.

Carl apparently had a very busy mind.

Tim dug deeper. Rooting around for the only memory that mattered, but accepting the ones he found along the way all the same. It was a clumsy sort of magic, an art rather than a science. Funny, Tim used to hate admitting that, but now he felt free to acknowledge that his own ineptitude with the mind was making this process much more difficult than it needed to be. His questing fingers were the axe, not the scalpel, but after another dozen memories, he found it.

Two young men, dressed like they didn’t belong and standing in a pristine white hallway. One that looked like he’d been carved from stone, and one with nothing behind his eyes.

For a brief, solitary moment, Tim almost wished he could release the memories into the ether rather than keep them, but that wasn’t how the spell worked. He didn’t have any choice except to live with that image of himself. The one that could’ve been a mirror image of Midnighter when he was younger.

He pulled away his hand, abruptly severing the connection. The mist over Carl’s eyes started to slowly evaporate, but Tim wasn’t about to wait around long enough to see the process complete.

“Let’s go,” he said, and started walking down the hall without waiting for Kon to reply.

There was a pause, and then Kon scrambled after him. “Tim— ” he started to say, but Tim cut him off.

“Not here. We need to be gone before he comes to properly, or I’m going to have to do that again.” Which, truth be told, Tim wasn’t sure he could. Taking something from a man’s mind took an awful lot of energy, and Tim was starting to feel tapped out.

They got around the corner before Tim allowed his pace to slow enough to talk. “Okay, we’re in the clear.”

Kon didn’t waste another second. “What the fuck was that, Tim?”

“If we left him any other way, he would have alerted security.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to fuck with someone’s head,” Kon snarled.

“Why not?” Tim asked without missing a beat. “Your life matters a hell of a lot more than anyone else's, let alone something as poultry as a few memories.”

It took several steps for Tim to notice that Kon was no longer with him. He turned around to find the angel standing stock still in the middle of the hallway, mouth agape. Tim was distracted for a moment by the plush pink of his bottom lip before he pulled his gaze back up and asked, “What?”

Something was clouding over Kon’s expression. The shock was fading, and whatever was taking its place didn’t look good. “I think you should stay here,” he finally said.

Tim took a few cautious steps closer, as if approaching a skittish animal. “Why?”

“Because you’re clearly not thinking straight, and to be perfectly honest, I’m not sure I can trust you right now,” Kon said. He looked shifty, but his voice was firm.

Tim frowned. If he were still capable of it, he suspected he might have felt hurt. “I would never let anything happen to you,” he said.

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

Something wasn’t right. He couldn’t tell if it was in the timbre of Kon’s voice, or the guarded lines of his body language, but Tim could spot a pattern like a bloodhound could trace a scent, and he didn’t hesitate to follow his gut. “That’s the second time you’ve tried to get rid of me. What are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding anything,” Kon replied a little too quickly. His eyes were panicked. “I just think I’d be better off handling the rest of this myself.”

In deference to how he remembered feeling about Kon, Tim actually gave his words their due weight, but in the end there was only one thing that mattered, and it wasn’t Kon’s comfort. Just his safety.

“You’ll need me to get into the room where your wings are.”

“I can break the lock.”

Tim snorted. “And get yourself immediately swarmed by security? Sounds like a great plan.”

“Better that than risk you doing something we’ll both live to regret,” Kon snapped.

“At least we’ll both be alive.”

“What are you talking about?”

Tim’s eyes flickered away before he could catch himself. A single tell slipping past his guard. “The Triumvirate. You know what they’ll do to you if your wings aren’t recovered.”

“That’s not what you were talking about though, was it?” Kon pushed. For all the stress he was under, he wasn’t blind, and he’d always been worryingly good at figuring out when Tim was lying.

“This isn’t the time, Kon. We need to go.”

“No, actually, I think this is the perfect time.” He took a step forward in order to use the full advantage of his height to loom over Tim. “You’ve been keeping something from me for weeks and now all the sudden you’re acting like a goddamn sociopath. I think I deserve an explanation.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tim said stiffly.

“I think you do.” They were standing so close now, that Tim could count Kon’s eyelashes. “My Tim doesn’t fuck with people’s heads.”

Tim didn’t even blink.

“If you’re really not going to tell me right now then that’s fine—” it didn’t sound very fine— “but I can’t be waiting for you to cross any more lines than you already have. This is too important.”

“I agree,” Tim replied. “This is too important, and that’s why we don’t have time for this argument. You’re not leaving me behind and we’re certainly not stopping for a heart to heart in enemy territory.”

“Fine. But if you cross any more lines, I’m calling this off. I can come back for my wings by myself another day.”

Tim already knew that wasn’t going to happen. He would never let someone jeopardize the mission or Kon’s life— not even the angel himself— but they’d already wasted too much time arguing, so all he said was, “Okay.”

He let Kon look at him, long and searching. He wasn’t going to find any trace of a lie on Tim’s face this time, and eventually, he seemed to realize that. He stepped back with a huff.

“If you’re quite finished, let’s go before someone else catches us,” Tim said. He didn’t wait for a reply before turning on his heel and striding down the hallway.

They found the lab they were looking for without running into anyone else. The door was shut tight, but as expected, it didn’t take more than a tendril of magic to jimmy it open.

The room they stepped into reminded Tim of a hospital. It was made up of smooth surfaces, harsh lights, and medical equipment shaped more to hurt than help. Just from one glance around the room, Tim counted eight different kinds of knives, and those were the least threatening implements laid out on the steel work tables spread in even rows throughout the lab.

Pinned against the farthest wall like a preserved butterfly were Kon’s wings. They were bigger than Tim remembered, easily taller than he was— and there was something else too. They were pure white, bright as freshly fallen snow and nearly perfectly camouflaged against the wall behind them. It was the reason it’d taken Tim so long to spot them.

The last time he’d seen them, they’d been black.

“I can explain,” Kon said as soon as Tim’s eyes landed on the wings. Despite the lengths they’d gone to to reach this moment, Kon wasn’t even looking at them. Instead he was staring nervously at Tim and shuffling his feet like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world.

It wasn’t hard to put two and two together. “No need,” Tim said breezily, closing and locking the door behind them. He brushed past Kon on his way to the back of the room, already puzzling out how he was going to get the wings down without damaging them any further.

“Wait— seriously?!” Kon asked.

“It’s pretty obvious,” Tim replied.

“It is?”

Realizing that Kon was unlikely to let this go, Tim sighed. “Yes, Kon. It is.” He met Kon’s eyes over his shoulder. “You’re in love with me.”

Instantly the air in the room seemed to get thicker. Tim himself felt nothing but the muted satisfaction of a puzzle well solved, but Kon looked stricken. Like he might be sick at any moment— which was frankly a little rude. Tim didn’t think he was that terrible to be in love with, was he?

“There aren’t many things that would bring you close enough to Heaven again that your wings would turn white,” Tim explained, turning back to his inspection of the hooks on which the wings were mounted. “And I don’t think you’ve suddenly become pious, so it has to be love. Your anxiety about me finding out filled in the rest.”

The hooks weren’t actually going through anything vital, thank god. They seemed to just poke through the feathers, allowing the bony frame to rest atop them. Tim was less optimistic about whatever mechanism they’d used to keep the wings stretched open in such a manner, but getting them off the hooks at least was just a matter of lifting up.

He turned around to relay this information to Kon, but hesitated when he took in the angel’s face. “Kon, are you alright?” he asked. Even to his own ears, the inflection was all wrong. It sounded clipped and mechanical, an order from officer to soldier rather than a concerned query from a friend.

“Are you really not going to say anything?” Kon rasped. He sounded like there was sand paper stuck in his throat.

“About what?”

“I— ” Kon stopped. For a moment, it was as if he’d been turned inside out, everything inside him spilling out onto the floor in some perverse yard sale of emotion just for Tim’s perusal. Betrayal, disappointment, fear, hurt, and such aching tenderness that Tim could almost feel it’s mirror twist in his own chest littered the space between them like so much junk until suddenly Kon’s mouth snapped closed with an audible click and the spell was broken.

“Nothing. There’s nothing for us to talk about,” he said coldly.

It was jarring. Kon had been an open book since the day Tim met him. Some pages were in a language Tim couldn’t decipher, true, but they were all there. Free for anyone to see— until now.

“Let’s hurry up and get out of here,” Kon mumbled, stalking forward. On instinct, Tim stepped out of his way, but Kon still veered to the side, altering his path to avoid even the possibility of brushing up against him.

Kon didn’t bother performing his own inspection of the hooks. In fact, he didn’t waste any time at all. As soon as his wings were within reach, Kon had them up and off the wall, hefting the considerable weight of them with superhuman strength.

Tim had just enough time to call out, “Wait— ” before the alarms started blaring.

Chapter Text

The world lit up red.

“What is it now?” Kon growled, as if he hadn’t just taken the stupidest option available to him with little regard for his own personal safety— or Tim’s for that matter.

Tim felt no annoyance about this, but he still had to fight the instinct to snap at Kon. Apparently years of being a planner among doers had left an impression on him that went beyond his soul. He wondered if somehow it’d been carved into his bones. A certain urge to protect intertwined with an existential frustration regarding the survival instincts— or, more accurately, lack thereof— of the people he loved.

He thought that would probably explain a lot.

“We need to get out of here,” Tim said.

The wings were a problem. They were large— easily taller than Tim— and unwieldy. Considering the number of guns that were about to be pointed at them, having a weakness like that out in the open posed a danger to everyone. Luckily, magic made the answer simple.

“Give them here,” Tim said, walking toward Kon and gesturing to the wings.

Kon recoiled from him, clutching the wings tighter as if he might hide them from Tim’s sight. “No,” he said.

They didn’t have time for this. “Fine,” Tim huffed, already twisting around to pull a small leather pouch out of his satchel. “You can carry them then, but we can’t have them exposed like this. May I?” he asked with exaggerated sarcasm.

Kon hesitated, but in the end gave a small nod. Tim didn’t waste another second before opening the pouch and holding it up to the wings. He muttered a short spell, eyes flashing violet as the wings were sucked into the pouch with a woosh that made Tim’s ears pop. Kon’s expression was more than a little panicky, but before he could lodge any protest, Tim was already closing the pouch and stepping forward to tie it to Kon’s belt loop. Kon let out a strangled noise, but Tim ignored it.

“Don’t lose this or I’m not helping you find them again,” Tim lied, stepping away. “Now go check the door. I’m going to sweep the lab, and then we’re leaving.”

Kon did as he was told, looking more than a little relieved to put some distance between them.

The lights were still flashing, bathing the lab in a sickening shade of red that made Tim feel a little motion sick as he made quick work of ransacking the place. He could distinctly hear alarms blaring in the distance, but for whatever reason, there were no speakers in this lab. There were only rows and rows of empty examination tables and a small bank of computers that Tim made a beeline for. Thinking quickly, he decided there wasn’t time to finesse the situation and tore one of their hard drives out instead. For good measure, he grabbed a nearby hammer (he could only imagine what they might have needed it for in a lab like this) and smashed the remaining computers. Hopefully there weren’t any backups.

Job done, Tim made his way over to Kon. “Take this,” he said, quickly yanking open the pouch at Kon’s waist and sending the hard drive spiraling down into it. Kon’s breath caught. Tim looked up at him to make sure his words were understood and found himself just inches away from wide, blue eyes. “We’re gonna need to move fast, so stay behind me.”

“Shouldn’t I go first?” Kon asked hoarsely.

Tim pulled away, Kon swaying after him. “No. I’ll handle it.”

He tried to reach for the door handle, but Kon caught his wrist with surprisingly gentle fingers, turning him back around. “Wait, Tim,” he said lowly.

“What?” Tim asked, eyes flicking down to they place where skin met skin.

He thought the angel might back down, but instead when Tim raised his eyes back to Kon’s, they were anything but hesitant. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out.”

In the flash of the emergency lights, Kon looked like a statue: carved from marble and almost too gorgeous to look at. Tim’s head tilted to the side as he considered him. “And how exactly,” he asked flatly, “was I meant to find out?”

Impossibly, terribly, Kon took a step even closer until the tips of their shoes brushed and Tim could count the eyelashes against his cheeks. “Not by mistake. You were going to find out because I was going to tell you, and I was going to mean it.”

Tim’s heart beat like a metronome, unswayed and unfaltering, but somewhere in his mind a memory pricked: the first time he’d realized he was in love with Kon.

They’d been sitting on the floor of Tim’s workshop, drinking and talking about nothing when Kon had leaned over to pluck a dried leaf from Tim’s hair that had fallen from the hanging basket above, and… well, that had been it really. Tim had taken one look at the little smile tugging at the corner of Kon’s pink mouth and the mischief in his liquor-bright eyes, and he’d just known. The pounding in his chest couldn’t be anything else. All he’d wanted to do in that moment was fall into Kon until he lost himself. He’d wanted Kon to mark him and change him and know him in a way no one else had ever come close to. He’d wanted to do all the same to Kon in return.

But now all he wanted was to get them both out safe.

Was that really so different?

Tim looked away. “It doesn’t matter now,” he said, hoping to finish whatever this was quickly.

Kon let go of him as though burned, taking a large step back. Whatever he was feeling, he hid it well for once. “We should be going then.”

Tim hesitated, feeling like he’d just missed a step. For some reason he’d been expecting more resistance, and the lack of it left him reeling. “Right,” he said, reorienting himself and turning to face the door once again. “Stay close.” Without another word, he threw it open.

~~~

The first hallway was empty, but the sound of heavy boots on tile echoed from all directions.

“We aren’t going to make it to the elevator,” Kon hissed.

“Yes, we are,” Tim replied. They took off running.

The first sign of trouble was an unlucky pair of guards, guns raised and helmets on as they patrolled down the hallway and nearly ran into Tim and Kon when they took a corner too fast.

“Put your hands— !”

His command was interrupted by Kon’s fist connecting with his face. There was a sickening crunch, and he was out like a light, crumpling to the floor. The second guard quickly followed, and then they were off again, sprinting full tilt toward the next turn, and the next, and the next.

“Almost there,” Kon mumbled, almost too quiet for Tim to hear. They pushed themselves to go even faster.

Later, Tim would wonder if they could’ve made it if they hadn’t wasted so much time talking, but in the moment he didn’t have time to do anything except throw his arm out to block Kon’s path forward and yell, “Don’t shoot!” when they rounded the final corner and found themselves face to face with a dozen more guards.

They were in formation this time, half kneeling and half standing in front of the elevator doors. A barricade. The one standing on the far right— the leader, Tim guessed— ordered, “Identify yourselves.”

“Tim, what are you doing— I can take them,” Kon whispered from behind him.

Tim’s arm drooped until his hand was level with Kon’s belt. If he let the angel barrel in, they’d start shooting, and Tim wasn’t bulletproof. Maybe Kon could have protected him and fought at the same time, but when it came down to it, neither was he. The bullets wouldn’t kill him, but they’d give the guards enough power to restrain him and in the end that was almost worse. They could be trapped down here until men in lab coats had tapped them dry of every ounce of magic.

“I said,” repeated the guard, “Identify yourselves!”

There was only one option left.

Tim spread his fingers, and the pouch obligingly opened itself just enough to let a single, luminescent feather fly to Tim’s palm. The second it made contact with his skin, power exploded through Tim’s veins. He could feel it coursing through his blood, warm and crackling like a bonfire inside him. All the hair on his body stood on end as his eyes changed color— not just the irises, but the pupil and the whites until they glowed from edge to edge.

“What in the— ”

“No.” Tim’s voice echoed with power. “You will let us pass.”

A dozen men stared back at him, slack jawed with awe, but the leader shook himself and growled, “We will not. Open fi— !”

He dropped before the order could make it past his lips. They all did.

And then the screams started.

“What are you doing to them?” Kon asked, his voice filled with horror.

“I’m giving them all the pain they’ve inflicted on others,” Tim replied. The power that had echoed in his voice a moment before was gone along with most of his energy. Now he had to prop himself up against Kon to remain standing, but it was worth it. The guards were reduced to a writhing mass of bodies on the floor, and the way their screams echoed off the walls felt natural. They deserved this.

“Stop,” Kon said quietly.

Tim looked at him, surprised. “Why? They’re incapacitated, and no one will ever belive them about what they saw when they’re raving about nightmares and pain that leaves no trace. This is much simpler than invading their minds one by one.”

“I said, stop.”

For some reason, Tim didn’t argue any further. With a wave of his hand, the spell was lifted and the screaming turned to sobs. More than one man had thrown up.

“We’re leaving,” Kon said, and grabbed Tim by the scruff of his neck. It wasn’t gentle, but Tim wouldn’t have been able to walk on his own anyway, so he let it happen. Kon dragged him past the bodies to the elevator. They traveled up in silence.

By some stroke of luck (or rather evidence that the lab had been exactly as shady as it seemed) the sirens downstairs manifested upstairs as nothing more than a fire alarm, so it was easy to blend into the fleeing crowd. They let themselves be carried forward and out into the blinding daylight until they were several blocks away from the LexCorp building.

It occurred to Tim that perhaps he should take charge again, but the urgency he’d felt all day was gone. The wings were retrieved and Kon was safe. That was all that mattered. For now, Tim was content to be dragged around Gotham until his companion chose a place to stop.

Except, Kon didn’t stop. He kept walking, dragging Tim along behind him so fast that Tim stumbled more than once, until they reached streets that were nearly empty.

“Where are we going?” Tim asked at last, but Kon didn’t answer. Instead he took a sharp right into a deserted alley, and slammed Tim against the brick wall behind a dumpster.

Tim’s feet dangled above the ground, useless. Kon had him be the collar of his shirt, pinning him in place at eye level, and Tim wondered if it was worth panicking about how difficult that made breathing.

“What the fuck was that?” Kon growled.

Tim blinked, surprised by the ferocity in Kon’s gaze despite the past several minutes of being roughly dragged across the city. “We needed to get out of there,” he explained, as if to a particularly slow child. “It was the only way.”

“Bull. Shit.” Kon said, jostling him. Tim’s head thunked against the brick wall behind him, but he bit down on any noise he might have made. It occurred to him all at once that if Kon wanted to kill him, then there wouldn’t have been much of a point in stopping him, but Tim pushed the thought away. He knew it wouldn’t come to that.

“There were a hundred ways to deal with that situation. You chose to hurt those people,” Kon snapped.

“What exactly do you want me to say?” Tim asked. “If you want me to apologize, then I apologize, but I’d do it again. We’re safe, we got the wings, and it’s not like anybody’s dead. I’d call that a win.”

Kon’s expression twisted into a snarl, but all Tim could think was that even his anger was beautiful. He’d always worn it exceptionally well, like someone used to the weight of it— someone built to carry it. When they’d first met, it had been all he knew. He hid it well, of course, tucked it behind easy going smiles and distracting questions, but it had been bleeding from him like oil from a pump, and, well, Tim could never resist a good mystery.

Or, he couldn’t before. Now he was perfectly capable.

“You’re not my Tim,” Kon said, stepping away like he was too disgusted to touch him for another second. Free from Kon’s bruising hold, Tim fell inelegantly to his feet, only barely avoiding twisting an ankle. “The woman in the elevator and the scientist I could write off as a bad day, and I never expected you to… well, you’ve always been shit at talking about feelings— but this? Tim, what you did was inhumane. It was wrong, and if you were really you, you never would have done it.”

Frowning, Tim straightened his jacket, setting himself back to rights. “But I am me,” he said. “In all the ways that matter, anyway.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kon asked sharply.

“I’m missing a few pieces, but they hardly make a difference, all told.”

“Which pieces?”

Tim looked at the ground and then up at Kon. “My soul.”

It was like dropping a penny in a lake. Silent ripples of understanding spread across Kon’s face in wave after wave of dawning horror. He looked like he was going to be sick. “Midnighter,” he choked out at length. “When you talked, he— “

“Yes, but don’t worry. It’s not gone. I just can’t access it,” Tim explained. “So you see, there’s really nothing to— ”

“Get it back,” Kon ordered suddenly.

It was hard not to laugh at him. On some level, Tim knew this wasn’t a particularly humorous situation, but the sheer ridiculousness of Kon’s conviction that he or Tim could do jack shit in the face of a power like Midnighter’s was utter hilarity, and frankly humor was one of the few things in Tim’s broken head that was still more or less in tact.

But Tim didn’t think Kon would appreciate that point of view, so he tried to be patient. “I don’t think you’re understanding me. Midnighter sealed it off to teach me a lesson, so when and if I get it back is completely out of my control.”

“Like hell,” Kon growled. “C’mon.”

He didn’t wait for Tim before whirling around and marching straight back out of the alley. Tim scrambled after him.

“What are you so worked up about? It’s not like he hurt me, and even if he had, it still wouldn’t be your concern,” Tim said, panting with his effort to keep up with Kon’s long, furious strides.

“Not my— ” Kon laughed humorlessly. “You are so lucky you have an excuse right now, because otherwise I’d tear you a new one for that.”

Tim didn’t understand, but he shut up anyway and let Kon lead him out into the street and then down it until they reached somewhere populated enough to flag down a cab.

“Do you have a plan?” Tim asked once they’d been driving for a few minutes.

“You don’t get to ask that,” Kon snapped.

They were silent again, but this time Tim could feel something building. Kon didn’t leave him waiting long before he huffed irritatedly, and turned to face Tim more fully. “How could you let him do this?” he asked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“He didn’t exactly give me much of a choice,” Tim replied dryly. He supposed now would’ve been as good a time as any to explain to Kon what exactly had caused Midnighter to seal off his soul, but it would probably only enrage Kon further, which seemed unwise. “And telling you would’ve been a distraction. I couldn’t jeopardize our mission like that.”

“Our— “ Kon made a sound of pure frustration. “This better be the fucking soulessness talking, or we’re gonna have a problem.” He looked away like he wanted to leave it at that, but he didn’t last more than a few seconds before turning back. “How could you possibly value yourself so little? Of course you’re my fucking concern, and of course it matters that some asshole took your fucking soul. It matters, Tim.”

“Not as much as you do,” Tim replied.

That shut Kon up. He stared at Tim, brows drawn and mouth ajar. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he asked at last.

Tim looked out his window while he considered how to explain it.

“Do you remember what I told you about witches’ codes?” he asked at last.

Kon frowned. “I do.”

Tim’s fingers drummed against his pant leg. “Most of a witch’s code is made up of things like ‘no killing children’ and ‘no sacrificing virgins,’ but there’s a secondary use to them that I didn’t mention. Witchlings also use them to make sure they’ll still take care of their loved ones even when they can’t actually love them anymore. That’s why they’re so closely guarded secrets. To know a witch’s code, is to be able to exploit it.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Kon asked after a long moment of silence.

Tim kept his eyes focused straight ahead at the torn upholstery of the seat in front of him. “I can’t be sure because Midnighter and I didn’t exactly draw up a contract, but I think you’re my witch’s code,” he said.

Kon didn’t say a word.

“It would make sense, anyway,” Tim went on for some unknowable reason. “It would explain the pull I’ve felt all day to take care of you. This feeling that you’re more important than literally anything else. I think maybe that’s just all that’s left of my soul at the moment. Don’t kill anyone and protect Kon. It’s probably because it was what I was thinking about when Midnighter sealed it all off.”

It was hard to tell when he wasn’t even looking at him, but Tim was pretty sure by the time he’d finished speaking that Kon was no longer breathing. Considering what he’d just revealed, this was mildly concerning. “Kon?” he asked.

“Shut up,” Kon replied. His voice was tight.

Tim did as he was told, and luckily they arrived at Midnighter’s dilapidated apartment building just a few minutes later. Kon was out of the car almost before it rolled to a stop, leaving Tim to foot the bill, which he did as quickly as he could before scrambling out after the angel. He had to jog to catch up with Kon.

“Seriously, though. What’s your plan?” Tim asked. “Midnighter’s dangerous, and I can’t let you get yourself hurt.”

Kon made a sound like he’d been punched. “That is not what’s important right now. We need to get your soul back—”

“I technically never lost it.”

“— so I can throttle you.”

“Well that’s not very motivating.”

Kon glared at him, but didn’t bother to respond. They’d already arrived.

This time, there was no polite knock. Kon stepped right up to Midnighter’s front door and started pounding. “Let us in!” he shouted, and when that didn’t work, he just redoubled his efforts. If the door had been made out of normal wood, Tim was quite sure it would have shattered by now.

In response to the racket Kon was making, an old woman poked her head out of the door two down to look at them disapprovingly. Kon didn’t spare her so much as a glance. Tim tried smiling at her politely, but all she did in response was sniff indignantly and flip him the bird before vanishing back into her apartment. The door slammed shut behind her with a bang almost loud enough to rival Kon’s ‘knocking.’

“You’re going to get us both killed,” Tim said matter of factly.

“I don’t care as long as we take him down with us.”

Then, between one thump of Kon’s fist and the next, the door opened. Not by a few inches with the mysterious sound of creaking hinges, but all at once, as if it had been yanked.

“Come in, why don’t you,” said a gruff voice from somewhere inside the apartment. It was irritated, but not homicidal. Assuming there was any distinction between the two where Midnighter was concerned.

Kon didn’t need to be told twice, and Tim was helpless to do anything except follow in his wake.

The apartment looked much the same as it had before with one exception: a faded lime green couch positioned perfectly in the middle of the room and facing away from the door. Their first glimpse of Midnighter was the back of his head poking over the top of it.

Despite the singular oddness of this sight, Kon didn’t waste a second before rounding the couch to face Midnighter head on. Tim was slower. He weighed the tactical advantages of keeping his place in Midnighter’s blind spot against proximity to Kon before deciding that no matter how much Midnighter might appear to be a man, he wasn’t. To think he had any blind spots at all was naivete. Tim joined Kon on the other side of the couch.

“Give it back,” Kon was saying, his voice ragged. It was hardly a good place to open negotiations, but Tim doubted the angel would think too kindly of him trying to take over, even if he was better equipped for it.

Midnighter looked utterly unperturbed by Kon’s urgency. He sat square in the middle of the couch with his legs crossed, one arm thrown casually over the back. In his free hand, he was holding a tumbler of something dark and smoking that looked a bit like pure shadow. Unlike last time, his body was entirely corporeal. Muscular and compact and dressed from head to toe in surprisingly fashionable black clothing. He was handsome.

But then, so were wolves.

“That’s not how this works, angel,” Midnighter said, and Tim was relieved to hear that his voice, at least, was the same hair-raising gravel. Like he’d gargled shards of glass. “You’re the ones that owe me, remember?”

“You’ll get your payment once Tim gets his soul back,” Kon said.

If every nerve in Tim’s body weren’t sending him klaxon sirens, he would’ve admired the audacity. Unfortunately, this was the angel Tim had sworn in some recess of his unconscious mind to protect with his life, so instead all he felt was abstract intellectual annoyance and a strengthening urge to grab Kon and run.

“That wasn’t the deal,” Midnighter said, still looking completely unaffected. “The business of Tim’s soul— which is still his, by the way, I haven’t taken anything— is between me and him. Entirely separate from your debt to me.” Casually, as if discussing the whether, he added, “I should warn you that I don’t take kindly to people who run out on their debts.”

“Tim, what does he mean?” Kon asked, completely ignoring the obvious threat that had just been laid at his feet.

“Just give him the feathers, Kon.”

“Listen to your boyfriend, little angel. I won’t ask again,” Midnighter said.

Kon’s eyes darted between them with growing frustration. “Not until you explain what the hell is going on. Did Tim make some kind of deal with you?”

Midnighter sighed, impatience finally brimming to the surface. “No, you idiot. I sealed off the witchling’s soul to teach him a lesson about impertinence— one I’m rapidly beginning to think that you might need as well.”

“No,” Tim blurted. “He’ll give you the feathers.”

“I will not—” Kon started to protest, but Tim didn’t let him finish.

Without waiting for permission, Tim summoned three feathers from the bag at Kon’s hip to the palm of his hand. Kon jerked away from Tim as the feathers came flying out, betrayal flashing across his face, but Tim didn’t care. All that mattered was the feathers he was now extending to Midnighter. The witch made no move to take them.

“Interesting,” he murmured, looking between Tim, Kon, and the feathers. “I take it this is not the first line you’ve crossed since I saw you last?”

Tim hadn’t hesitated to lie to his friends, but here he sensed it would be a death sentence. “No,” he said.

“And how does that make you feel?” Midnighter asked with a wry twist of his lips. A joke at Tim’s expense.

Tim said nothing.

With a wave of Midnighter’s hand, the feathers vanished from Tim’s grasp. “I believe that concludes our business,” he said briskly.

“Like hell it does,” Kon snapped, finally resurfacing from his shock. “You still have to give Tim’s soul back.”

“For the last time, dimwit, I didn’t take it,” Midnighter said irritably, scratching at the back of his neck absently. “It’s all still there— or it will be for another week and a half or so.”

Tim felt every muscle in his body freeze. If protecting Kon had been his first instinct, then somehow this was his second. A secret that he’d willed himself to keep, even when it felt like his soul was being ripped from his body, but the animal in him knew there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop Midnighter from spilling it now.

“What are you talking about?” Kon asked. His frustration was fast approaching its peak. He’d been lied to and manipulated and kept in the dark— mostly by the man he loved. Tim couldn’t really blame him for wanting answers, even if it went against Tim’s every instinct to let him have them.

Midnighter smiled cruelly. “Oh, he didn’t tell you?” he asked, even though he knew damn well that Tim hadn’t. He stared directly at Tim as he spoke. “Your little lover boy fancies himself a witch. In under two weeks— just in time for the solstice, if I’m not mistaken— he plans to ascend. I intended to talk him out of it, but I can see now that it’s a lost cause. Might as well leave him like this until his soul is actually gone— easier for everyone really.”

Tim felt like he’d lost his voice. There wasn’t a single thing he could say. He couldn’t look at Kon either, so he kept holding Midnighter’s gaze, unable to look away.

“Why?” Kon asked, and it sounded like the word had been torn from him, broken and bloody. Tim couldn’t help himself from finally looking over, just to make sure that Kon’s rib cage was still intact.

“It’s a rather convoluted story, but the meat of it is simple,” Midnighter answered. “He’s doing it for you. His life for yours.”

Hell was a clever place, but no demon would ever be able to conjure up a torture more painful for Kon than hearing those words. Tim could see it in his eyes.

“No,” he said, and there were tears on his face now.

“Yes, I’m afraid. It’s already been approved by all three members of the Triumvirate as an appropriate preventive measure. His sacrifice will save both your life, and the lives of millions. A small price to pay to balance the scales, don’t you think?”

He was just being cruel now. Twisting the knife into Kon’s gut— but why? What did Midnighter stand to gain from riling Kon up?

“Tim, tell me it isn’t true,” Kon pleaded.

There was no use lying. “I can’t. When you fell, it tipped the scales toward the light, and if it’s not righted by the time the solstice rolls around, either the Triumvirate will kill you or Hell will send up some power of its own to even things out. We can’t take that risk, and I can’t let you die.”

“Why not?” Kon asked. His cheeks were bright red now, and it looked like he might start tearing his hair out by the roots at any second. “My life isn’t worth yours,” he said. “You actually add something to this world, I’m just living for myself.”

Tim frowned. The logic was almost laughably wrong, except for the fact that Kon seemed to believe it. “Numerically, that’s inaccurate. Your life expectancy is several hundred times that of mine, and my ascension is objectively a less terrible fate than death. I’ll still be able to serve my function on the council, run my shop, and look after my loved ones. You would be completely gone.”

Kon just shook his head, distraught.

“Well,” Midnighter cut in suddenly. Tim had almost forgotten he was there. “This is starting to feel like a personal matter. I think I’ll leave you to it.” The tumbler and couch both vanished as he stood up. “And, since it means so much to you, I’ll even give this back.”

Tim didn’t have a second to prepare himself. One moment he was staring at Kon, trying his best to puzzle out an argument that would sway the angel to his point of view, and the next Midnighter’s palm was pressed flat to his chest and the world was on fire.

If the sealing of his soul had felt like ice so cold it burned, then the opening of it was drowning. An avalanche of pressure on the inside of Tim’s chest, pushing out, out, out until he was certain his lungs would burst, and then all at once— everything.

That was the only way Tim could describe it. The flood. It was everything that had been trapped inside his soul for the past few hours rushing through him at once. Fear, panic, love, anger, adoration, guilt— oh god, the guilt— his head spun with it. His vision went white and his ears rang, but still it all just kept coming, barrelling toward him at a million miles per hour and slamming into him with enough impact to shatter concrete.

And in the end, Tim fell.

He was dimly aware of Midnighter taking a few quick steps back, and had only a millisecond to wonder why before he started vomiting. His eyes stung with tears that were coming too fast to process, and now his throat stung too from the bile that went up his windpipe as his body tried to sob and puke at the same time. His knees hurt and his chest hurt, and it was all just too much—

“Should’ve let you defile your own floor,” Midnighter muttered, then louder, “Don’t come back again any time soon.”

Tim was still heaving when the ground dropped out from beneath him. With a sensation like being squeezed through a toothpaste tube, he landed hard on the tile floor of his own bathroom, mercifully near the toilet.

“Tim?” came Kon’s voice from the next room over. Midnighter had deposited him in the bedroom, and Tim could hear the panic in his voice at having lost track of Tim for even a second.

He didn’t have the strength to call out in response, but it didn’t matter because Kon found him anyway, appearing in the doorway like a blessing sent from above. “Oh, thank god you’re okay,” Kon said, rushing to Tim’s side.

Eyes blurry with tears, Tim took in the sight of his best friend and was hit with such a strong wave of love, that he was helpless to fight it. It overpowered every other thing he was feeling, cutting through the maelstrom and hitting at something right in the core of Tim. Something he’d finally gotten back, and didn’t know if he could part with again.

Tim’s last thought before the world went dark was, I’m home.

Chapter Text

There was something in Tim’s mouth. It was waxy and flat and most definitely didn’t belong, so, despite the cloud of sleep still over his thoughts, he rolled over onto his side and spit it out. Tentatively, mindful of the warm lights in the room around him, he cracked open one crusty eyelid to take a peak at what it was: a small leaf. Okay, weird, but hardly dangerous. Tim closed his eyes again with every intention of going back to sleep.

Unfortunately, his curiosity would not be so easily laid to rest.

Why a leaf? Where had it come from? He was too warm and comfortable to have slept in any kind of forest, so the leaf had to be magic, right? Enchanted, even.

And then Tim remembered.

He’d been messing around with hangover cures since Jason had given him his first sip of alcohol at thirteen years old. First he’d tried mixing the magic into the drinks directly, but that always left a distinctive taste that he hadn’t been too fond of. Then he thought the answer was in a potion to be taken the next morning, but that still left the terrible, terrible feeling of first waking up, so Tim had abandoned ingestibles all together and went with a third option: enchanted mint leaves.

He’d stored the last batch he made— the one the leaf now on his pillow must have been from— in a preserving jar tucked into his bathroom cabinet with the rest of his toiletries. No reasonable person should have known to go looking for it— or been able to find it for that matter— and yet there Tim was. Waking up from what could only have been one hell of a bender to minty freshness.

Basking in the warm feeling that thought sparked in his chest, Tim rolled over in an attempt to burrow further under the covers only to be startled wide awake by a yelp from his bedside.

“Fucking shit, you scared me!”

Tim’s eyes snapped open, his heart pounding, but it was only Stephanie.

She was curled up on a chair by his bedside dressed in a purple tracksuit with her hair in a loose braid that fell over her shoulder. The remnants of worry and stress were still etched into the way she was biting her lip and the creases on her forehead. It made her look terribly young. Loose and undone like she almost never was outside her own apartment.

“Who died?” Tim croaked, but from the sound of his voice, it had to have been him. They both winced.

“Here, let me get you something to drink,” Stephanie said quickly, all but jumping to her feet.

While she was gone, Tim took a moment to try and make sense of his truly bizarre situation.

He was in his own room, but quite certain he hadn’t been the one to put himself there. He knew immediately that Stephanie wasn’t either, which left him wracking his brain for his most recent memory.

He remembered going to Midnighter’s apartment with Kon, anxiety and determination a whirlpool in his gut at the thought of facing the witch, but then it got… hazy. He closed his eyes and pushed back into his pillow as he waded through the slowly surfacing memories.

Kon, his wings, Midnighter— Tim shivered involuntarily— the elevator, the lab, the hallway, the alley, Midnighter again, and then—

Oh.

Oh shit.

Tim sat up.

“Take it easy, you’ve been out for two days,” Stephanie said, as she reentered the room.

“I fucked up,” Tim croaked in response, ignoring the glass she extended to him.

“No shit, Sherlock. Now drink before I change my mind about being nice to you and go pour it down the drain.”

Chastened, Tim took the water and drank. When the glass was empty, he cleared his throat and tried again. “I think I’ve made a very, very big mistake.”

Stephanie snorted, easing herself back down into her chair gingerly. She was clearly sore from having spent the night in it, and that thought alone sent a fresh wave of guilt crashing through Tim’s body.

“I repeat, no shit, Sherlock.”

“Fuck,” Tim cursed. He scrubbed his hands over his face only to discover the tacky remnants of tear tracks along his cheeks. He must’ve been crying. “Two days you said?” he asked weakly, shaking his arm until the corner of his sleeve fell over his hand and he could use it to rub the incriminating grit from his skin. Someone had changed him into his pajamas, and he didn’t want to think about who.

“You gave us all a scare,” Steph replied soberly. “We thought— well, Kon thought, but I talked him down— that you might never wake up again.”

He could picture it. He remembered now the last fading haze of light as his eyes fell closed and the world went black. Unless Kon had caught him, he’d probably fallen directly into the toilet, which would’ve been laughable if it weren’t for the thought of how terribly he must have frightened Kon. Magic— particularly soul magic— was not Kon’s area of expertise. It wouldn’t have been too much of a leap to interpret Tim’s reaction as some sort of rejection, particularly if he’d been unable to wake Tim up again.

“I’m sorry,” Tim said quietly. “I should’ve told both of you the truth from the start.”

“Why didn’t you?”

The reply came so quickly, Tim had no doubt she must’ve been holding onto it from the moment she learned the truth. Now, faced with his pitiful state, she seemed to be struggling to hold onto the anger that must’ve gotten her through the long days of waiting. All that was left was the hurt.

Anger, Tim thought, would’ve been easier.

“Lying was the logical thing to do,” he said, a rehearsed excuse. “I knew you loved me too much not to immediately drag me back to Midnighter, and getting Kon’s wings back was more important. I just… couldn’t see how losing access to my soul was all that big of a deal.”

“You’re an idiot,” Stephanie said, but she sounded calmer. He wasn’t sure which part of his explanation had appeased her, but he was relieved something had. He’d never been able to stand seeing her in pain.

A moment of silence passed between them. As much as Tim loved Steph, he couldn’t help but become increasingly aware of Kon’s absence. He wondered how many lies it would take for Kon to stop loving him. What color would those beautiful wings be then?

On some level, seeing them hadn’t even surprised soulless-Tim. He’d always known that Kon cared about him, and without his self worth issues to get in the way, he could see far more clearly just how much— but now it made his chest constrict. Kon loved him. Not just interest or attraction, but love. It was insane. Impossible. Unbelievable. And yet the evidence had been right in front of him.

He could feel his cheeks heating up just thinking about it. He wanted to scream or dance or just pull Kon into him and never let go again, but he couldn’t do any of those things. Kon’s feelings didn’t change the fact that in just over a week, Tim wouldn’t be able to reciprocate ever again.

Tim closed his eyes, and for a moment, he let himself just feel. He’d only been cut off from his soul for a few hours, but it had already been too long. The pain in his chest now was a welcome relief in comparison to that gaping emptiness from before, and honing in on it felt like stretching a lost limb.

Love and heartache mixed together in his chest like some impossible whirlpool. He was already grieving for the life he’d never be able to have with Kon, but there was peace too. Even when the thought of what was to come felt like a thousand tiny blades against the inside of his rib cage, he was still proud to be doing this for his friend. For his beloved. Anything would be worth it to ensure Kon could live a long and happy life.

When Tim opened his eyes again, he was ready.

“Right. I should get to work,” he said, throwing back the covers and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. The floor was cold beneath his bare feet. “There’s still a few things I need to get ready for the solstice. No time to waste.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary anymore,” Stephanie said coldly, startling him. “Your ascension has been canceled.”

Fuck. “How did you find out?” Tim asked with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“From Kon, you asshole,” Stephanie said. “It should’ve been you, but for some reason I was left out of that loop.”

Tim winced. “I’m sorry about that. I don’t have an excuse. Telling you was just too… ”

“Hard? Bullshit,” Stephanie said. “You didn’t tell me because you knew I’d call you out for being the biggest idiot on this plain of existence.”

Tim frowned, his own anger swelling in response. “I know it’s not ideal, but it has to be done, Steph. There aren’t any other options. None worth considering anyway.”

“Because you didn’t fucking look for them!” Stephanie shouted, standing up abruptly. All at once she was towering over him. “If you’d just been honest with your friends for once in your life, we could’ve put this whole thing to rest ages ago, but no. Timothy Martyr Drake wanted to suffer in silence because he’s oh-so-noble.”

Tim rose to his own feet, bringing them level. “That’s not fair. I didn’t tell you because I knew it would ruin our last days together. I didn’t want to waste all that time with you angry at me.”

“That’s not even the point!” Stephanie raged. “The point is you didn’t have to do it then, and you don’t have to do it now.”

“I’m not going to let Kon die!”

Despite what was almost certainly two days of crying silently in his sleep, Tim’s eyes were starting to water. Frustration and panic cut like a knife’s edge through his chest at just the thought of it. Why couldn’t she see why he had to do this? Was it not obvious that he loved Kon? That he’d do anything to protect him— even sell his soul— without a second thought? And wasn’t that his choice to make?

Stephanie must’ve seen some of these thoughts on his face, because she finally began to deflate. There was kindness in her voice when she spoke again. “Nobody’s going to die, Tim. There’s a better way.”

“What are you talking about?” he snapped, scrubbing his sleeve roughly over his eyes to dispel the moisture gathering there.

“Just… get dressed,” Stephanie instructed. “And when you’re up to it, come down to the shop. Dick will be there to explain everything.”

Tim’s head snapped up. “Dick’s here?”

“Not yet, but he told me to call him as soon as you were up.”

Tim softened, but still had to ask, “Do I have to wait? Can’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

Stephanie shook her head. “I couldn’t explain it right, and I know you’re going to want details. He’ll only be a few minutes.”

“Alright,” Tim said, giving in. He started toward the bathroom, but Stephanie caught his sleeve and tugged him into a hug.

“I’m still angry at you,” she said into his shoulder.

He hummed his understanding, gripping her back just as tightly.

“It’s going to take me a while to forgive you,” she said.

“I understand.”

“Good.” She turned her head so her whole face was buried in his neck. “Let’s just stay like this for a minute.”

“Okay.”

Stephanie let him go eventually. She shoved roughly at his shoulders and turned away quickly before he could get a good look at her face, and then she was gone. He went to the bathroom first. In a spur of the moment decision, he hopped into the shower instead of just washing his face, and was instantly grateful. It felt wonderful, and whatever hadn’t been reset by two days’ sleep was washed away under the warm spray. After that, he pulled on some sweatpants and a plain t-shirt, and went down to go see his brother.

Dick was waiting for him in his workshop, idly playing with the pen Tim had been in the process of enchanting before the last few days’ debacle. “Tim!” he exclaimed when he spotted his little brother.

Tim did his best to smile, but he was tired, anxious, and aching. It might’ve been easier to handle if his body could’ve picked just one, but Tim didn’t think he’d be capable of that for a while yet. He still felt too unstable from the emotional flood he’d experienced when Midnighter unlocked his soul. “Dick,” he said, after the moment had stretched just a little too long.

Luckily, Dick was happy to take the initiative. As soon as Tim had stepped within reach, Dick was grabbing his shoulder and pulling him into a hug. Dick gave great hugs. He was so big and warm and brotherly that it made Tim feel like he could finally take a break because everything was being taken care of.

But not even the magic of Dick’s hugs could distract Tim today. He pulled back. “Steph said my ascension was canceled. What the hell does that mean?” he asked.

“Straight to business then. I see how it is,” Dick replied teasingly, backing away from Tim until he could sit down on Tim’s work stool. Embarrassingly, it put them at eye level. Dick grabbed the stool between his spread legs, bracing himself. All at once, a transformation seemed to sweep over his skin. In the span of a second, the man sitting before Tim went from his loving older brother to the senior member of the Reaper’s council and Captain of the GCPD.

“Before I can tell you that, I need you to tell me what happened two days ago,” he said. “I already got Kon’s version of events, but I need you to corroborate his story and fill in the gaps.”

Tim frowned. “Corroborate his— why would Kon lie?”

“I don’t know,” Dick replied calmly. “But he said some pretty outrageous things. That doesn’t necessarily make them untrue, but you know better than anyone that no story can be taken as fact if it only has one source.”

It was a perfectly reasonable explanation, but Tim glared at him a little more anyway. He didn’t like having information withheld from him, and he definitely didn’t like Dick casting doubt on Kon’s trustworthiness. Yes, Tim understood the irony of that. No, he did not intend to examine it.

“Fine,” he said at length. In short, clipped sentences, he outlined his adventure with Kon starting with his friend bursting into the shop in a blind panic, and ending with the moment he passed out. He debated leaving out his short foray into the soulless lifestyle, but he could only assumed that Dick had already heard about it from Kon, particularly since he’d known about Tim’s little power nap.

Dick didn’t say a word as the tale unfolded, but his grip on the stool got tighter and tighter until his knuckles were as white as Kon’s feathers. When Tim finished he said, “And this hard drive, do you still have it?”

“Um.” Nonsensically, Tim patted his pockets. There was nothing there, of course. “Hold on a sec,” he said to Dick, then turned back toward the staircase up to his room and muttered a soft incantation. A beat later, the small bag he’d tied to Kon’s belt loop to hold his wings was flying at Tim’s face. He caught it deftly, weighing it in his hand. The wings were definitely no longer in it, but Tim wasn’t surprised. Kon must’ve taken them with him when he left. Tim handed the bag and its remaining contents over to Dick.

“Thanks,” Dick said, tucking it quickly away into a pocket of his own. “And Midnighter? I don’t suppose I can convince you to press charges, can I?”

“You know I won’t.”

Dick was frowning. It was his righteous frown, commonly found around kicked puppies and great injustices. “What he did was wrong. Non-consensual soul magic is a capital offense— hell consensual soul magic can be prosecuted in most cases. You have every right to drag him before the Triumvirate and make your case.”

Tim shook his head. “I’m not saying what he did was okay, but he did it with the full weight of the witches behind him. It wasn’t a spiteful or malicious act, it was… a warning. One they had every right to give me.”

It didn’t look like Dick believed him, but he let the subject drop anyway. “Your story matches up with Kon’s perfectly, although he left out the part about you torturing those guards.” Tim winced, but Dick’s expression didn’t change, and he didn’t linger on it any longer than he had to. “I’m really sorry you guys felt like you had to do all that on your own, but I can’t say I don’t understand your logic. You did good work.”

“Thanks,” Tim said.

“I wasn’t finished,” Dick said. “You did good work, but I’m taking it out of your hands. If you had any ideas about going after the assholes who took Kon’s wings, they end here, do you understand?”

Tim, who had very much had such ideas, nodded guiltily.

Dick stared him down for a moment before continuing. “That’s not to say we’re going to leave this unpunished. Whoever they are, those humans now have angel grace in their possession, and there’s no telling what they might do with it. B’s put me in charge of the investigation to figure out who they are, what they were planning, and how they found out about Kon in the first place.” Apologetically, he added, “I’ll try to keep you in the loop as much as I can, but you know how these things are.”

“I get it,” Tim said, and it wasn’t even a lie. Not that a little revenge didn’t sound nice, but Tim was more than ready to wash his hands of the whole affair. All he wanted to do was track down Kon and make sure he was safe.

“What about my ascension?” Tim asked.

Dick didn’t answer right away. He leaned back on his stool and crossed his arms, studying Tim like he was one of his suspects. “You really aren’t going to like this, Tim.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Tell me anyway.”

Dick smiled at him, but only for a second before his expression was grave once again. “After you passed out, Kon went a little… he’s had a busy two days. The next place anyone can account for him after he left here is B’s palace.”

“What was he doing there?” Tim asked, surprised.

Dick pursed his lips. “He was there for you,” he said.

Tim felt his cheeks get hot. Dick knew. He wasn’t sure if Kon had said something, or if the events spoke for themselves, but somehow Dick knew. “Go on,” Tim said hoarsely, trying to act like they didn’t both know they were talking about the love of his life.

“I guess he was just as eager to make the sacrifice play as you were,” Dick said dryly and not a little pointedly. “He climbed up on the steps of B’s palace and started yelling until finally the big man himself came out to see what was going on, and then he set his wings on fire.”

“He did what?”

“He burned them. Right there on the onyx steps. He denounced what was left of his grace to restore the Balance, and then he told B that if he ever let you make such a dumb, sacrificial move again, Kon was personally going to come down and shove his boot so far up Bruce’s ass that he would be able to taste the leather.”

“What the fuck,” Tim wheezed, but Dick was relentless.

“Word got around in just a few hours, and a public denunciation was made. Kon is no longer a part of the house of El. He has no supernatural affiliation whatsoever. He’s just a regular human now.”

“He’s not just anything,” Tim snapped, finally getting a hold of himself. “He’s Kon, and apparently I owe him my fucking soul.”

“Or your heart.”

Tim blinked. Dick was watching him serenely, and it occurred to him for the first time that his brother had been pushing him on purpose. Tim was a little embarrassed to have risen to the bait, but, well. He wasn’t in his right mind right now.

“How are you doing, by the way?” Dick asked gently.

Tim started rubbing his chest unconsciously. “Fine.”

Of course, Dick couldn’t leave it at that. “What does it feel like? Getting your soul back.”

Tim stared fixedly at the ground. “Like a hangover, but in my chest instead of my head,” he said bluntly. He didn’t want to get into the details. It was too hard to explain how his own mind felt like a rollercoaster he was barely holding onto. Or how everytime he remembered something from the hours he was emotionless, it came with a rush of feeling so strong that it was like being mowed over by a bus.

Dick sighed. “I always know when you’re holding out on me, Tim.”

It wasn’t true, but Dick didn’t know that, and Tim wasn’t going to tell him. “I’ll be fine, Dick. Where’s Kon now?” he asked, changing the subject.

For the first time, Dick faltered. “We… don’t actually know,” he said sheepishly. “Everything moved so fast after his wings burned. There were rituals and formalities that needed to be observed, not to mention dismantling the gears that had already been set in motion for your ascension and— ”

Tim cut him off. “I don’t care about any of that right now,” he said. “No one went after him? He’s never been on Earth without his powers before, Dick. He could be in danger. Particularly if whoever stole his wings is still after him.”

Dick frowned. “That’s highly unlikely. What interest would they have in him now that he’s human?”

“They don’t know that he’s human! I have to find him.”

“I don’t know if that’s— ” Dick started, but Tim didn’t wait to hear the rest of it.

“I’ll report to Bruce later if he needs me to, but your account should be enough. Since my duties as a council member aren’t needed at the moment, and Kon isn’t even in the vicinity of your jurisdiction, I believe I’m the perfect person to go after him.” The logic behind Tim’s reasoning was somewhat undercut by his still wet hair and sweatpants, but he did his best to stand tall.

Dick hesitated, looking Tim up and down. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

“For gods’ sake, Dickface, just let him go,” cut in a new voice from the door. Steph, who had either been eavesdropping the whole time or just had remarkably good timing, had arrived. “He’s gonna be a pain in the ass until he bones idiot number two, so there’s really no point fighting him about it.”

Tim decided to let the bit about him and Kon slide despite the color it brought to his cheeks and beam at Steph instead. “Exactly. Absolutely insufferable. So, can I leave now, Captain?”

Dick shot them both betrayed looks, but only shook his head in the end. “Fine. Go get your man. You will be reporting to B tomorrow though, understood?”

Tim’s grin couldn’t get any wider. “Perfectly.”

There was really only one place Kon could be. He was hurting and raw. Freshly human in a world that had never been kind to him. If he hadn’t stayed with Tim, then he must’ve gone home.

It took far too long for Tim’s liking to get to Kon’s apartment. Every second seemed to stretch out into three, and for a moment, he was wildly envious of Midnighter’s skills at teleportation. It would take Tim a summoning circle and a small blood sacrifice to manage as much, and it would still drain him completely.

By the time he was finally face to face with Kon’s door, it was all he could do to keep from pounding it down. “Let me in,” he called through it when Kon took more than a few seconds to answer.

The slow shuffling sounds he’d heard from behind the door suddenly stopped. Then there was a loud thump, scrambling, and finally the door opened.

“Tim?”

Kon was in jeans and a black t-shirt, same as always. His hair curled around his ears. His earring glinted a dull gold in the crappy lighting of the hallway. In short, he looked perfect.

“Kon,” Tim said, breathlessly. He may have run up four flights of stairs to get there. Remembering himself, he added, “Are you okay?”

“Am I— ?” Kon started to ask incredulously, but then seemed to think better of it. “Nevermind. Of course that’s what you’d be worried about. You better come in.”

Tim stepped past him with the beginnings of a hopeful smile already curling at the corners of his mouth. Kon closed the door behind him and leaned against it. He was watching Tim carefully, like one would a wild animal that’d just wandered into their apartment. Desperate to dispel the tension lingering there, Tim was casting around for something he could say to set Kon at ease when he saw a suitcase thrown open on Kon’s bed through the bedroom doorway. It was almost full.

“Are you… packing?” he asked, something tight and hot growing in his throat.

“Yeah,” Kon said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know if you’ve heard yet, but my bridges with the supernatural community in Gotham all went up in smoke, and I figured you’d be happy to see the back of me too, so… I’m leaving.”

And there it was. The other shoe. A part of Tim had known this was all too good to be true— his best friend loved him back and he got to keep his soul? It was too much for anyone to believe— but he hadn’t realized just how much it was going to hurt.

“Oh,” he said.

“Um. Did you? Hear, I mean,” Kon asked falteringly. Tim could tell he was scared he’d have to explain it, and after weeks of hiding his own sacrificial plan, he understood why.

He nodded. “You gave up your grace for me.”

Kon shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not as much as all that,” he said self-deprecatingly. “It wouldn’t’ve been right to let you give up your soul for me. I was just doing what should’ve been done in the first place.” He seemed to be looking right through Tim at something far beyond the cramped room they were in. “I should’ve burned them as soon as I landed, actually. Part of me wanted to, but I… I never had the balls to go through with it I guess. Until now.”

His eyes returned to Tim, and there was so much tenderness in them, that suddenly no amount of self worth issues could make Tim believe Kon didn’t love him and it all just seemed so stupid.

“What’s that supposed to mean, anyway?” Tim demanded abruptly. “What you said about me being happy to see you go.”

Kon looked away so quickly Tim thought he could hear his neck crack. “Like I said. I should’ve burned them from the start. It’s my fault you were ever in that position. Because of me, you almost gave up your soul.” He looked back at Tim, eyes begging for understanding. “I am so sorry, Tim.”

“That’s not— you didn’t— ” Tim groaned in frustration, marching closer to Kon until hardly a foot separated them. The angel stiffened, drawing himself up to his full height as if that could put enough space between them for him to breathe. Very slowly and very deliberately, Tim tried again. “I almost gave up my soul because of my choices, Kon. Mine. Not yours. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“But— ”

“No,” Tim said firmly. “I’m glad I don’t have to give up my soul anymore, but you would’ve been worth it. You are worth it. Do you understand?”

Kon looked down at him with wide, frightened eyes as the enormity of what Tim was saying settled in. This was Tim’s white wings. This was his biggest, worst kept secret of all in everything but black and white print, and it obviously scared the shit out of Kon. Frankly, it scared the shit out of Tim too. Love was always scary.

“Tim… ” Kon murmured.

A hand carefully settled on Tim’s hip, touch feather light. When Tim didn’t so much as blink, it pressed harder until at last Kon was reeling him in, pulling Tim’s body against his own until Tim was braced against him like the heroine on the cover of a romance novel. With his other hand, Kon brushed a lock of hair out of Tim’s eyes, tucking it behind his ear. “If you’d gone through with it,” he murmured, breath ghosting against Tim’s lips, “I would’ve flown down to Hell myself to get your soul back. No matter the cost.”

All the air left Tim’s lungs in one whoosh. Part of him had already known, but hearing Kon all but say it out loud was an entirely different experience. “Oh,” he squeaked. It was embarrassing really, but Kon didn’t look anything less than enamored by it. Tim’s eyes flicked down to Kon’s lips, and then away to somewhere vaguely in the distance. It was all he could do to fight past the racing of his heart to grit out, “I’m sorry too.”

“About what?” Kon asked softly. Tim didn’t think he was capable of anything but softness just then, the sap.

Tim’s eyes found Kon’s again, and it felt like coming home. Something deep inside him that before the last few days he wouldn’t have known to call his soul felt indescribably safe in Kon’s arms, even if he was only mortal now. We could grow old together now, Tim thought, and he felt the way the tension creasing his face bled away, even if he wasn’t ready to say it out loud yet.

Instead he said, “When I found out you loved me. I didn’t… I remembered that I loved you too, but without my soul, I couldn’t connect that memory to a feeling. The things I said were indescribably cruel to you, and I’m sorry.”

Kon’s arms tightened around him at the confession. He was clearly stunned by it, even when Tim had only put words to what was already heavy in the air between them. “Well then,” he said hoarsely. “I guess you’ll just have to make it up to me.”

“Everyday for the rest of our mortal lives,” Tim said seriously, and then he kissed him.

Kissing Kon felt like summer and light and air. Like the first rain in May when the flowers bloomed and the air hung heavy with petrichor. The city lights at night, dazzling and intoxicating. Kissing Kon felt like a thousand wonderful things that didn’t belong in a grungy, mortal city, and a thousand things that did. That was the contradiction of love, it was too heavenly for Earth, and too earthly for Heaven.

Kon opened his mouth to Tim, and the contradiction converged into sense. There was no logic to this except that it was right. It was exactly where Tim needed to be— where he wanted to be for the rest of his life.

He couldn’t understand how anyone would ever bargain this away for something as paltry as power.

It was a long time before they came up for air again. They traded slow, happy kisses there pressed against the door, giggling like teenagers.

“I feel like we could’ve been doing this a lot longer,” Tim said against Kon’s lips.

Kon kissed the tip of his nose. “Maybe. Or maybe this was exactly how we were meant to happen.”

“Sap,” Tim said.

The arm Kon had around his waist tightened momentarily. “You love it.”

Sighing, Tim tucked himself under Kon’s chin, wrapping his arms around his torso. “Fuck, I do.”

He could feel Kon’s laugh vibrating against his cheek.

Eventually, they had to separate, but not entirely. Tim couldn’t help himself from taking hold of one of Kon’s hands, and Kon made no move to pull away.

“So, uh, what happens now?” Kon asked.

He looked an absolute mess, Tim thought. Mussed and rumpled like he’d been rolling around in the grass. His lips were kiss-swollen and red. Frankly, he looked good enough to eat.

“Now,” Tim replied, only just resisting the temptation to tackle Kon and take their kissing horizontal, “you keep packing.”

“What?” Kon yelped.

“Let me finish,” Tim said, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles on the back of Kon’s hand. “Your apartment isn’t safe anymore. Honestly, I can’t believe you even came back here. I would’ve ditched the place.”

Avoiding Tim’s eyes, Kon admitted, “I would’ve but… then you might not’ve been able to find me.”

Tim raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth tugging up into a smile against his will. “I thought your plan was to disappear.”

“It was,” Kon said immediately. “But I wasn’t actually going to be able to go through with it without seeing you first. I had to make sure you were alright.”

There really was no response to a thing like that except to kiss him. Out of respect to their productivity for the day, Tim kept it short. Or, he tried to at least.

When they pulled back again, Tim patted Kon’s chest and said, “C’mon. I’ll put an expansion charm on your suitcase and we’ll just take the whole lot. You won’t be coming back here.”

Kon blanched. “Where am I supposed to sleep?”

Tim smiled as he recognized the echo of their conversation from less than a week ago. This time, he didn’t have to think about what his reply should be. “With me of course.”

He left Kon looking stunned in the living room and went to see about enchanting his suitcase. He was only halfway through casting the spell when Kon’s arms suddenly wrapped around his middle.

“Thank you,” Kon said into his ear.

Enveloped by the man he loved, Tim could only sigh in contentment, surrendering himself to Kon’s embrace. “What for? Taking advantage of your homelessness to get you into my bed? This isn’t exactly a selfless act, Kon.”

Kon snorted. “Bullshit.”

Sighing, Tim laid his arms over Kon’s. “Yeah. It is.” They stood like that for a moment before he tentatively added, “Y’know, if you’re not ready for the moving in with me bit, I can talk to Steph. I’m sure she would— ”

Before he could get any further, Kon was spinning Tim around and cradling his face in the palms of his hands. “Tim, it would be my pleasure to move in with you,” he said, gaze flicking down to Tim’s lips. “Trust me. I want this.”

“I do,” Tim replied solemnly. “I trust you.”

A grin lit up Kon’s face. “Good,” he said, and then they were kissing again.

Tim had a strong feeling there was going to be a lot of that in their future, and frankly he wouldn’t ask for it any other way.

When they were both too out of breath to continue, Tim rested his forehead against Kon’s and whispered in the scant inches of air between them, “Kon?”

“Yes?”

“Let’s finish this so you can take me home.”