Archive of Our Own

"Do you want to run away with me?" Bernard asked. 

It took the words a few moments to sink in, and even then, Tim couldn't make sense of them. He wished that he could blame the fact that it was past midnight, but he was usually up much later, talking theories with Bernard or sneaking out with him to see if they could catch a glimpse of Batman and Robin grappling across the rooftops. But when he and Bernard hung out at night, it was usually at an agreed meeting point somewhere in the city – not Bernard standing outside throwing rocks at his window with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

"What?" Tim said.

Bernard rolled his eyes. "I'm running away. Are you coming or not?"

Tim would be lying if he said that he hadn't thought about it. When his parents went on trips when he was younger, leaving him with a nanny or at boarding schools, he had the habit of staring at maps or globes, trying to imagine a place where he didn't feel so alone. Even after his mother's death, when his father had actually started to try, he always had a sense that he was doing something wrong whenever he tried to spend time with him. Even now, he and Dana were on vacation overseas, and Tim was alone in the house. 

It was that thought that tipped him over the edge. Not being alone himself, but the idea of Bernard being alone. Whenever he was planning on going, whatever he was planning on doing, Tim didn't want to think about him doing it on his own. He had to go with him, even if it was just for enough time to help him come up with a more solid solution. 

"Sure," he said. 

He was surprisingly well-prepared for the situation at hand. He always had a bag packed and ready to go, although it was usually for late-night stakeouts with Bernard. He thought that it applied well enough to this situation, though – money, food, spare clothes, chargers. He could have just walked out the front door, but Tim had spent enough time sneaking out his window that it was easy enough to just climb down. That, and he couldn't help but show off in front of Bernard.

There was a spark in Bernard's eyes when Tim landed in front of him, but it died down quickly, leaving behind a dull emptiness. His entire expression seemed blank in a way that felt purposeful. Tim had never thought that he would see him look so emotionless.

"Let's go," Bernard said without preamble. 

Tim adjusted his backpack. "Go where?"

"The bus station," Bernard said. "I already have tickets. Bludhaven."

"Bludhaven," Tim repeated.

"Are you still asleep or something?" Bernard glanced over his shoulder, his fingers tapping against the bag he was holding. 

What are you running from, Bernard? Tim thought. "Isn't Bludhaven kind of dangerous, though?" he said instead. "Especially at night."

Bernard shook his head. "Don't worry. I've got a plan."

Usually Tim was the one between them who did the planning. Bernard came up with the ideas, and Tim fleshed them out. That was their system. A place for everyone and everyone in their place, as Bernard would have said on a normal day. This version of Bernard felt warped, like something that had come out of a dream. 

"Okay," Tim said. "Let's go."

Bernard raised his eyebrows. "You haven't even heard what the plan is."

"I don't care about the plan," Tim said. "What matters to me is that you aren't alone." 

-

Tim had thought that Bernard would tell him his mysterious plan on the bus, but he fell asleep instead, his head dropping onto Tim's shoulder almost as soon as the bus pulled away from the station. Tim didn't bother trying to wake up him, instead adjusting himself so that Bernard would be more comfortable even if it meant that Tim's arm was digging into the window. It wasn't until they were sitting down that he'd started to noticed how tired Bernard seemed, the dark shadows under his eyes and the slight sluggishness in his movements. Tim doubted that he'd gotten any sleep at all that night. Knowing Bernard, he hadn't slept the previous night, either.

The city lights flickered down onto Bernard's face. There was a slight dent between his eyebrows, a tenseness to his limbs like he was sleeping on a bed of nails. Tim remembered when he first met Bernard. He remembered his easy smile, the matter-of-fact way that he spoke, how he looked at Tim like he was the only person in the world worth paying attention to. That one brief conversation had led to having lunch together every day, to trading Batman theories back and forth, to sneaking out at night in hopes that they'd be able to catch sight of their heroes. And apparently now to running away together. To Bludhaven, of all places.

The bus screeched to a stop. Apparently Tim had spent the whole drive staring at Bernard's face. He hoped that none of the other passengers had noticed.

The sudden scurry of movement did nothing to wake Bernard. Tim wasn't surprised – the few times that Bernard had fallen asleep on their stakeouts, he'd slept like the dead. Tim reached over and shook his shoulder gently. "Berns. Wake up."

Bernard's eyes flew open. He jolted in his seat, nearly hitting Tim before he caught his hand. "What –"

"Whoa," Tim said. "It's just me. We're here." 

Bernard leaned back and let out a slow exhale. He clenched his fists, but Tim still noticed that his hands were shaking. This wasn't the first time that Tim had had to wake him up, but he'd never gotten a reaction like this. He didn't think that he'd ever seen Bernard afraid at all. "Are you sure you're okay?" Tim asked.

Bernard didn't answer him. "Come on," he said, grabbing his bag and standing up. Tim followed him. Tim would always follow him.

-

Bernard navigated Bludhaven the same way Tim navigated Gotham – without even having to think about it. He didn't seem nervous at all, every ounce of fear that he'd had when he woke up disappearing as soon as his shoes touched the sidewalk. Tim didn't know how he did it. He was used to Gotham's nightlife, but there was something about Bludhaven that seemed darker, made him feel like he was being watched.

Tim wasn't sure how long they walked before Bernard paused. They had ended up in what seemed like the affluent part of Bludhaven, the streets lined with mansions and expensive cars. Bernard had stopped in front of a gate, the windows dark in the house behind it. Tim watched as he flipped open the keypad on the gate, quickly punching in the numbers. The gate creaked open. "What the hell?" Tim said. "Who lives here?"

"No one," Bernard said. 

He walked towards the abandoned house, leaving Tim to trail behind him. He veered away from the front door and instead looped around the back of the house, heading towards what looked like a long shed. Another keypad, another punched-in code, and Bernard was swinging open the door. "I can't get into the house," he said, "but we can stay here for the night while we decide what to do next."

At first, the only light was the moon shining in through the sun roof overhead. When Bernard flicked on the lights, Tim could see more of the empty swimming pool in front of them, the shadows seeming longer and the pool seeming deeper. Bernard tossed his bag into the shallow end and jumped down after it. Tim walked down the stairs towards him. 

"Okay," he said. Bernard turned around to face him. Only one of the overhead lights still worked, illuminating him from behind. "I'm going to need an explanation now." 

Bernard looked up from where he was taking a tightly folded sleeping bag out of his duffel. Tim wondered how long he'd had the bag packed, waiting under his bed for just the right moment. "I don't know what you want to hear," Bernard said.

Tim came to stand next to him. When Bernard got to his feet, their faces were inches apart. "The truth, maybe?" Tim said.  

Bernard kissed him. 

It was so quick that Tim didn't even have time to react. One moment Bernard's lips were pressing against Tim's, the next he was drawing back, pressing his hand over his mouth. "Fuck," he said. "I didn't mean to do that."

"You didn't…" Tim said slowly. He felt dizzy, off-kilter. He wanted Bernard to kiss him again, to feel Bernard's hands on him, to draw him even closer. 

"I'm so fucking sorry –" Bernard turned away from Tim, still covering his mouth. He started to move further from him, walking across the pool towards the deep end, but Tim caught onto his sleeve. Bernard flinched, and Tim immediately let go. 

"Dude," he said. "What is going on?"

Bernard let out a hitched breath. His shoulders were shaking as he wrapped his arms around himself. "I shouldn't have dragged you into my shit," he breathed out. "I - fuck." And then Tim could hear him sobbing, clearly trying to keep the sound of it as close to silent as possible. Tim felt like his heart was breaking in two. All he wanted was to comfort Bernard, to wrap his arms around him and let him cry into his shoulder, but not when Bernard had flinched away from his touch like it had burned him. 

"Bernard," he said softly. "Please. Can you look at me?" 

He could see Bernard shake his head. "You weren't supposed to see me like this," he choked out. "No one was supposed to see me like this, but especially not you." 

"It's okay," Tim said. "I promise. I want to see you. No judgement, no anything. Just…just me and you. That's how it's always been. That's how I always want it to be." 

He came to stand next to Bernard, leaving him enough space to move away if he wanted, but still close enough to know that he was there. He had barely moved before he had an armful of Bernard, pressing his face against his shoulder. Tim stumbled backwards for a moment before finally wrapping his arms around him. "I'm here," he whispered. "I've got you, I'm here…"

Bernard shuddered, curling his fists against Tim's chest. After a brief moment of hesitation, Tim moved one of his hands to run through Bernard's hair. Bernard's sobs grew louder, but Tim could feel him relaxing, leaning into his touch. "Everything is going to be okay," he said. "Take all the time you need, and I'll be here if you want to talk." 

He pressed his lips to Bernard's forehead. Bernard let out a tiny, broken sound as his legs gave out beneath him. Tim lowered them both to the ground, letting Bernard curl up against him. He never, not in a thousand years, expected to see Bernard like this, so completely shattered. He'd always seen him as untouchable, everything rolling off of him with a smile. Now, he was beginning to realize that that was what Bernard wanted him to think.

He couldn't tell how long it was before Bernard spoke. "I couldn't do it anymore."

Tim moved back just slightly. "Couldn't do what?"

"Live with it." Bernard wasn't looking at Tim, his face still tucked into his shoulder. "There's this person that I'm supposed to be. My parents, they've been telling me that my whole life. And no matter how hard I try, I can't get it right. You should see the way that they look at me. Every time they do, they just look more and more disappointed – if they bother to look at all. Sometimes it's like they don't even see me. The person I am right now, he's nothing to them, and he's nothing to me, either.  And I thought, maybe if I just left, I could find that person that I'm supposed to be, and I could do it on my own terms." 

Tim didn't think that Bernard was crying, but he was shivering even more now. Tim shrugged his hoodie off of his shoulders, wrapping it around Bernard. "I love the person that you are," he said. It wasn't until after he said it that he realized the tiny amount of words separating the sentence from I love you. 

Bernard finally looked up at him, his eyes tinted red. "What?"

"I'm serious," Tim said. "You're incredible. You're one of the coolest people I know. You're smart, you're brave, you're passionate. And if they don't see that, they don't deserve you."

Bernard's lips turned up just slightly. A tear trickled out of one of his eyes, and Tim took his face in both hands, wiping it away. "Okay?" he asked.

Bernard nodded. "Better," he said. One of his hands came up to cover Tim's, and Tim twined their fingers together. "Um…"

Before Bernard could play it off, Tim leaned forwards and kissed him. Bernard relaxed against him as he squeezed his hand. His opposite hand curled around Tim's waist, maneuvering them so that they were horizontal, Bernard on top of Tim. He pulled back and bumped his forehead against Tim's before he spoke. "You're not just kissing me because you feel bad for me, right?"

Tim shook his head. "I think that I've wanted to kiss you for a while." Looking back on it, he wasn't sure how he hadn't kissed Bernard on any of their stakeouts, during any of their conversations at school where Bernard became so heated about whatever they were talking about that he got that familiar smile on his face, that fiery look in his eyes. Kissing him felt right. Right here, with him, was the exact place that Tim was supposed to be. 

Finally, for the first time that night, Bernard smiled, a real smile. "You think?"

Tim had to smile back. "Yeah. Maybe. Jury's still out." And then Bernard's lips were back on his, and there wasn't a single shred of doubt left in his mind. 

It didn't go any further than kissing, than Bernard's hands curved around Tim's waist and Tim's thumbs stroking Bernard's cheekbones. They had ended up in the sleeping bag together. The two of them barely fit, but Tim didn't mind. "There's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while," he said. "I just never knew how to say it."

Bernard nodded. "What's up?"

"I know who Batman and Robin are." 

Bernard bowed his head, tucking it against Tim's chest. Tim could feel his shoulders shaking. "Shit," he said. "I'm sorry. Are you –"

"Of course you do," Bernard said. He looked back up, and Tim realized that he had been laughing at him. "You're a genius."

Tim couldn't help but smile back. "I'm not a genius."

"Yeah, you are," Bernard said. "You can't tell me, can you?"

Tim shook his head. "I…don't think I should." 

Bernard nodded, leaning his head back against Tim's shoulder. "Makes sense. Would have been cool, though."

Tim could tell that it wouldn't take long for his resolve to crumble. "I thought you'd be so mad at me," he said.

"Nah," Bernard said. "Never." 

When it got later, Bernard got up, turning out the lights and curling up next to Tim to go to sleep. Tim stared up at the moon, listening to the sound of Bernard breathing next to him. He knew that he should sleep, could feel exhaustion seeping into his bones, but for some reason couldn't close his eyes. 

"I used to live here," Bernard said softly. 

Tim had thought that he was already asleep. "Here like Bludhaven?" he asked. "Or here like this actual house?"

"The second one," Bernard said. "That's how I got in. I didn't have keys to the actual house, but all of the key codes are still the same. We lived here until I was in eighth grade. Then some shit happened with my parents' work and we had to move. They tried to sell the house, but they weren't getting the kinds of offers that they wanted, so they just gave up on it and let it rot. Like they give up on everything that's not what they want it to be."

Tim looked over at him. He wasn't looking back, instead staring up through the roof at the night sky above them. 

It was such a simple phrase: I used to live here. But the thought of saying it filled Tim with dread. He knew every inch of Gotham. He knew its streets, its moods, its people. More than that, though, it was his home. Gotham was his, and he was Gotham's. He couldn't imagine living anywhere else. Even worse, he couldn't imagine returning to it after however many years away, and seeing all those places that had used to be his growing and moving on without him. 

He had spent enough nights in the city with Bernard to know that he felt the same. For all that Gotham was, all the crime and the danger, it was their city. And yet still, Bernard would rather run away than spend a single minute longer there. "Bernard,"  Tim said, trying to keep his voice as gentle as possible. "Did something specific happen tonight that made you want to leave?"

Bernard still wasn't looking at him. Tim could see the stars reflected in his eyes. "I don't really want to talk about it," he said. His voice was careful, a manufactured steadiness. It felt too similar to how he had been acting earlier in the night. "Not right now, okay?"

Tim ran a hand through Bernard's hair. "Okay," he said, trying to sound calm. Truthfully, the thought of either of Bernard's parents saying a word against him or laying a hand on him filled him with a kind of rage that he didn't think that he had ever felt before. 

Bernard turned on his side, intertwining his fingers with Tim's where his hand was resting on his chest. "Good night, Tim," he murmured. 

Tim kissed his forehead. "Good night, Berns." 

-

"What the hell are you two doing here?" 

Bernard didn't jolt awake the same way he had on the bus, but Tim did, shooting into a seated position before he was fully aware of where he was or what was going on. Even then, it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the sun streaming in through the roof, and his brain a moment longer to adjust to the fact that Nightwing was standing in front of him.

"Holy shit," Tim breathed. He shook Bernard's shoulder. "You need to wake up." 

Bernard groaned, moving closer to Tim. "Give me a minute." 

"Nightwing is standing right here, and I think he has some questions for us."

Bernard's eyes flew open. "What the fuck?"

He stumbled, getting to his feet and pulling Tim up with him. Nightwing stared at them, his head tilted. Tim hadn't seen him in person in years, and never this close – not since that day at the circus, anyway. "Mind telling me what you're doing here?"

"We're just passing through," Bernard said. "We're about to head out."

"Didn't look like it," Nightwing said. He twirled one of his escrima sticks in his hand, and Tim's eyes were drawn to the movement. "Look, I'm working on an investigation, and every lead points to this house. If you know anything –"

"My parents used to live here," Bernard interrupted. 

Tim squeezed his hand. Careful. He had that look in his eyes again, that fiery glare that he got whenever he was passionate about something. He had some idea of Nightwing was talking about, Tim was sure of it. 

"Okay," Nightwing said. "Tell me what you know."

And Tim got the sense that, for the second time, Dick Grayson had drastically changed the trajectory of his life.