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Tim is nineteen years old. Arguably he’s not a little kid anymore. He’s not fifteen. He’s no teenager. He’s not Red Robin. He’s Tim. Just Tim. No more, no less. And frankly, that should be enough. It’s not.
It’s been a while now since Dick moved out of the manor to his and Roy’s new apartment. It was about eight months ago now. The dynamics has shifted since then. Like none of them knows their place without Dick. Now honestly, that’s not true. Not really. They’re their own persons, with or without Dick. But since Tim became a part of the Wayne family he’s always had Dick to lean back on. To reach out to. He still does, but it’s no secret that Dick’s life has changed in the past year.
Dick’s 27 now. He lives with his Roy, who’s 28. They’re all grown up. Not like Tim, who just became an adult. Why would their lives circle around this anymore? They all know that Dick’s life is bigger than that. That he’s meant for so much more. Crime fighting and being a vigilante was only the beginning. Dick’s time is coming and Tim’s not so sure there’s any space for any of them in his new era. At least not like it used to be.
Tim stares blankly ahead of him. He blinks once. Twice. There’s an eyelash irritating his left eye. He sweeps over it and blinks again. Gone. Finally.
Outside it’s snowing. Not much, but enough to give the trees a smooth brush of whiteness and make the air look crispy. Tim wrinkles his nose. He’s never been a fan of snow. However, it’s a nice change from the constant raining taking place over Gotham.
The manor’s quiet. Part of him misses Dick’s voice traveling through the long hallways, melting into every corner of the enormous spaces. Linger with its calmess. Its sweetness. If he closes his eyes and focuses just a tiny bit more on the space around him, he can hear the echoes of Dick’s voice bouncing against the walls. He’s part of the manor. His laughter will always be found within these walls, long after he’s gone. He’s an imprint on everything he touches.
Tim sighs. Maybe he’s not more lost now than before, only now it’s become obviously painful. What is his place? His purpose? The reason he’s watching the snow trinkle down in front of him? Why does the time feel weird? What has life become? Did it ever change?
Maybe he’s spiraling. No, nah, he’s too calm for that. Those thoughts does not appear with thunderous panic racing through his blood. They are constantly there, in the back of his head. The manor’s so empty now. And quiet. There’s too much space, yet it’s suffocating.
”Tim? Timmy!”
Huh. Someone’s calling his name. He turns his head slightly to the left and catches Jason looking at him. The expression on the older man’s face is completely unreadable.
Tim raises an eyebrow as if to say ”yes, what?”.
”What’re you doing?” Jason asks him.
Tim shrugs and turns back to the window in front of him. It’s huge, reaching all the way from the wooden floor to the off-white ceiling. ”Just watching. Thinking, maybe. I dunno,” he tells Jason, trailing off with mutterings.
”Hm” Jason makes a sound. It’s neither a sound of curiosity nor is it prompting. He’s simply acknowledging Tim’s answer, deeming if it’s enough or not.
Then comes a question that catches Tim slightly off guard.
”You okay?” Jason asks him. His tone is quite neutral, but at the same time quiet, like he’s afraid to accidentally startle Tim.
Tim chews on his bottom lip, not looking away from the window. His eyes are unfocused, the snowflakes a blurry mess behind the cold glass separating him from their coldness. Tim’s shoulders have tensed just a little. Jason’s surely noticed, but not pointed it out.
”Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Tim answers at last. He’s still not looking at Jason.
He can hear Jason shuffling around the room. It’s even quieter now than it was before the older man had entered.
”Hey, you wanna know a secret?” Jason then breaks the silence. It makes Tim’s shoulders drop a bit.
Tim turns his gaze towards Jason who’s now leaning against the back of one of the couches.
”Yeah, sure,” Tim mumbles. It’s not an excited answers, but at least Jason can locate something that sounds like curiosity. It’s a win.
”I have never, not once in my 23 years of living, built a snow fortress,” he tells Tim. It’s a weird confession. Why is he telling Tim this?
There’s something swirling in Tim’s stomach. A funny feeling. Did Jason just refer to himself as being alive? Not dead? Not having been dead? 23 years of living. Not counting his time spent down below. Living as in constant without being interrupted by death. The funny feeling could be pride. Or something like that. Tim does not point it out to Jason. He doesn’t want to take it away from him. The older man seems unbothered, like he hasn’t even noticed.
”Really?” Tim then says. ”Like, not even when you were a kid?”
”Nah,” Jason grins at him. It’s just a small grin, a little bit mischievous but not taunting. It’s his Timmy smile, Tim recognizes.
”Hm,” Tim makes a sound similar to the sound Jason made a bit earlier. ”I think it’s time for us to change that.”
Jason raises an eyebrow. His grin grows the tiniest bit wider. ”Yeah?” He asks. Voice slightly croaking. Like he’s hopeful for the first time in years.
”Sure, yeah,” Tim answers. The younger man’s face is crunched, like he’s thinking. ”But we’ll need more snow. Perhaps if we shovel it all together into a pile we’ll have enough. Not much, but enough.”
”You tell me,” Jason says with an easy laugh. Like he’s genuinely happy. Or could be. On the way towards genuine happiness, at least. It’s progress.
Tim marches towards Jason and grabs his wrist, tugging him along out of the enormous living room. They’re heading towards the closet by the front door.
”Now let’s see,” Tim mumbles as he pulls open a wooden drawer placed at the very back of the closet. Huh. Jason’s never noticed that one before.
Tim ruffles around in the drawer. Jason watches him. At last Tim makes an aha- sound and holds up a pair of gloves, a knit cap and a knitted scarf. It’s fluffy.
Jason gives him a confused look and reaches for the garments.
”What? You’ve never used a scarf before?” Tim asks Jason and gives him a look.
”No, not really,” Jason answers honestly. He wraps the scarf around his neck. It’s warm and cozy. ”On the streets there were no such thing as knitted woolly mittens or stuff like that. Oh, so you’re cold? Suit yourself. Everyone here’s cold,” he imitates what Tim believes could be words spoken to Jason by a person from Jason’s life before being Robin.
”Sorry. I didn’t think of that,” Tim apologizes. He looks at Jason with worried eyes. Jason gives him that grin again.
”Nah, no worries, kiddo,” Jason reassures him. It makes Tim smile a little, too.
All dressed and ready to build a snow fortress, they make their way outside and around the manor. Tim looks at the window before him. Just a few moments earlier was he standing on its other side. A snowflake twirls around and lands on his check. It melts into his skin. It’s actually quite refreshing.
Tim turns around and looks at Jason. The older man had ditched his signature brown leather jacket after som nagging. You hate being cold, Tim had told him. Only then had Jason agreed on wearing another jacket. Tim had given him a calm yet grateful smile and shoved a black puffer jacket into Jason’s arms.
Now Jason was standing in front of Tim. He looked so out of place. He had refused the knit cap, claiming it would mess up his hair. He’s never cared much about it but the only thing Tim’s ever seen Jason wear on his head is the red hood mask or just a hood. The snowflakes are trinkling down around them. The ones landing in Jason’s white streak of hair blends nicely into the strands. His ears are already turning red.
Tim rolls his eyes. ”I told you, you’re gonna be cold,” he tells Jason. The ghost of a smile still lingering on his face.
”Yeah, yeah,” Jason mutters and pulls the hood of the jacket over his head. His face is now framed with the fluffy hem of the hood. It brings a couple laughs out of Tim.
”The ever so menacing red hood,” Tim snickers. Now it’s Jason’s turn to roll his eyes. He does, however, laugh as well.
Then they begin with their mission: Jason’s first snow fortress. Tim insists on only using their hands, claiming that’s the correct way to build it. What, it’s not like a kid could use a shovel or anything like that. No way. They’re gonna do this the right way or not at all. It’s all about the experience.
It takes them a while but soon enough they’ve gathered enough of snow into a seemingly large-ish pile. It’ll do, Tim had told Jason. Jason had only nodded in agreement.
”Now, the easiest way to build a snow fortress is in the slope of a hill, not on the ground. The steepnes is an advantage, that way you already have a wall against the hill and only need to build the fortress outwards from the hill,” Tim instructs Jason.
”So, what, you’re like a snow fortress architect or something?” Jason huffs in awe.
”No, not really,” Tim tells him, already moving to start the building process. “Just had a lot of time to kill as a kid when my parents were away. Snowdays were my favorites. The days just flew by when it snowed.”
Yeah, Jason had not thought about that. Their childhoods were so different from one another. Jason grew up in poverty with a dad in jail and an addict as a mother. The streets were merciless, especially as a kid. He wouldn’t wish that childhood on anyone. But Tim. Tim’s childhood had been extravagant from the perspective of an outsider. Truthfully, that was not the case. What’s a life in luxury with spacious emptiness trapping you. A huge house but no siblings, no parents. Yeah. Tim had had his parents. He wasn’t an orphan like Dick and Jason had been. But they weren’t there. Tim had practically been an orphan, in that way.
”Jason, come on,” Tim calls out. Jason hurries over.
”What’s up? What’s the next step?” Jason asks Tim and falls to his knees to get at the same level as Tim, now crouching in front of the pile, digging a hole in the middle of it.
”Building it,” Tim snorts. The teasing is obvious.
”Yeah no shit, little wing,” Jason shoots back. Little wing had been Dick’s nickname for Jason when they were younger. When Jason had been just a kid.
Jason grins at Tim and starts digging as well. He has no idea what he’s doing but how hard could it be? They’ve spent so much of their lives inside the cave, can’t be that hard actually building one.
It takes a while but after some time the snow fortress is finally coming together. It’s not big, but enough to fit the two of them. At the ground by a steep hill is the snow fortress located. It’s like an igloo, Jason had pointed out. Tim had nodded.
”Yeah, it is,” Tim says. There is cold air coming out of his mouth as he speaks. It looks like smoke.
They’re sitting inside the snow fortress. White and cold walls surrounding them. It’s cozy. Jason doesn’t feel that cold, not really. It’s actually quite nice.
”Thanks for wanting to build a snow fortress with me,” Jason says after a while. His voice is quiet in the stillness of their creation.
Tim turns his head to look at Jason. He brings his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around them, resting his chin on the kneecaps.
”Yeah, sure, anytime,” Tim answers. The faint smile visible on his lips. ”It’s been… nice. Really.”
”Hm,” Jason hums in agreement. He turns to look at Tim and meets his gaze. Tim’s genuineness radiates through his eyes.
They fall back into silence. For once, it’s not uncomfortable. It’s something different, something entirely new, for both of them. Who would have thought that they could find a brother in the other?
There’s shufferling in the snow outside their snow fortress. Tim spikes up at the same time as Jason. Always on the edge. Always alert. The shuffling stops right outside the entrence to the fortress. Then a head pops through it.
”Alfred,” they exclaim in union.
”Master Jason, Master Tim,” Alfred greets them both. ”I wondered where you had gone, considering I could not find either of you anywhere inside the house.”
”Oh, sorry,” Tim mutters.
”No need to fret, Master Tim. This is quite a snow cave, I have to admit. You’ve done a good job,” Alfred reassures Tim. It makes Tim’s expression soften.
”Yeah, isn’t it?” Jason boasts. ”This is my first time building a snow fortress, actually.”
”Is that so, Master Jason?” Alfred turns to look at Jason with a slight raise of an eyebrow. He smiles gently. He looks content. ”I brought you some biscuits and hot chocolate.”
Alfred crouches down in front of the opening of the snow fortress. He then moves a tray to the opening as well, right in front of Jason and Tim. They look at each other then towards the two cups of steaming hot chocolate waiting for them on the tray.
In a swift move they’ve both reached out for a cup each. Jason grabs the small plate with the cookies as well. They both thank Alfred for the snack, uttering their gratitude in union. Alfred leaves them to head back inside.
”This is, like, the best day ever,” Jason confesses around a mouth full of cookies. He swallows them down with a big gulp of the hot chocolate.
Tim looks at him and laughs. It’s a nice and soft laugh. Not mean. Not teasing. Just happy.
”Yeah? I might have to agree with you on that,” Tim admits. His smile is still visible from behind his own cup of hot chocolate. ”Y’know, you’re not that bad, actually,” Tim then says after a moment. He bumps their shoulders together for a brief moment.
Jason hums and picks up another cookie. He dips it into his cup of hot chocolate. The cookie quickly softens from the liquid.
”Thanks, kiddo. Neither are you,” Jason says as he stuffs the cookie into his mouth. He chews for a while then swallows. He then takes a long sip of his drink. ”I know it’s been hard since Dick moved out. You two were always closer than the rest of us,” he tells Tim after a moment.
Tim noticeably tenses next to Jason. The older man chooses to ignore it and bumps their shoulders together again, this time not moving away. Perhaps the contact of Jason could help Tim to ground a little bit. When Tim doesn’t move away from his touch, Jason takes that as a sign to continue.
“I’ve noticed your growing absence, Timmy. Part of me grew worried. A second part became happy, in some sick kind of way. A third part felt the need to reach out. I guess our complex past still linger in the air. At least for me,” Jason tells Tim, as he turns to look at the younger man. Tim does not look at him back.
”I guess… I get it, in some strange way,” Tim says quietly after a moment of silence. ”It would make sense for you to be happier the more I disappear. Perhaps I’ll always be your replacement, in that sick kind of way.”
Jason watches as Tim rests his chin against his knees once more. The cup of hot chocolate is cradled in his cold hands, hot steam still twirling into the air above the cup. Tim stares blankly into the space in front of him.
”Yeah. Maybe,” Jason hums as he moves to put his own cup to the side, placing it on the almost empty place of cookies, so it won’t touch the ground and get cold. He then reaches out to put a gloved hand on the side of Tim’s left kneecap, right next to Tim’s face. Surprisingly, it doesn’t startle Tim, at all.
”But you’ll also be more than that, little wing. It’s not easy for me to make sense of emotions and thoughts that are mine but at the same time aren’t. It’s a weird thing having to constantly distance myself from myself, considering none of us are actually sure how much of me is really me and not part of the Lazarus pit,” Jason reminds Tim.
Tim snorts. Jason’s right, he knows that. He’s trying his best not to hold it against Jason, but at the same time it’s not easy to forgive a person for the things they’ve done out of pure hatred or done completely unwillinging. Especially not when neither of them are sure what Jason’s real motivs really were. Were they his own, or not? How is Tim supposed to forgive when he does not know?
”I am not expecting forgiveness of you,” Jason then says like he can read Tim’s mind. Tim’s thoughts are just that transparent.
”Then what’re you expecting?” Tim asks Jason. He finally turns his head towards the older man. They lock eyes.
”Time, I guess,” Jason says with a slight shrug of his shoulder. He then leans back towards the snowy wall of the hill and picks up his cup of hot chocolate again. Tim watches him closely.
”How?” Tim blurts out. What could time really do? What does time have to offer? Why would Tim rely on the one thing he does not have but at the same time has a crazy amount of excess of?
”Time will let you heal from my mistakes,” Jason says softly. He takes another sip of his hot chocolate. ”Y’know, when we were blackmailing Dickie, I felt like, if only just for a moment, like I actually were a brother to you and Dami. You let me do your hair, baby bird. It was actually kinda nice.”
”Hm,” Tim makes that sound of acknowledgment again. He considers Jason’s words for a moment, sipping at his own hot chocolate. ”Yeah. It was pretty nice, actually,” Tim admits.
”I’ll never be the kind of brother that Dick is to you,” Jason says through a short breath.
”We’re not expecting you to be,” Tim points out to Jason.
”What’re your expectations on me, then?”
Tim thinks for a moment. He chews on his bottom lip, like he always does when he’s not sure about something. He then finishes the rest of his hot chocolate and sets the cup aside on the cold ground. At last, he shifts to face Jason.
”Time,” he tells his older brother.
”Really?” Jason quirks an eyebrow.
Tim nods. ”Yeah, really. Time will let you heal, as well, Jay.”
Perhaps time is on their side, for once. And maybe, just maybe, Tim doesn’t hate the winter like he always claims he does. Maybe, he thinks, it’s quite comforting. Nice, even. Joyful. Calming. All that.
”Time it is, then,” Jason says through a grin. His Tim smile. Tim smiles back at him. Yeah. Time sounds good.
”Perhaps we’ll still be enough for each other. Only time will tell,” Tim hums as he reaches for the last cookie on the plate.
”The future awaits us, Timmy. We’ll get there. I’m sure of it.”