Work Text:
“I’m not really invisible. I’m still solid. I can be seen. It’s just – people don’t notice me.”
(It was always there, in hindsight. Even her parents had trouble paying attention to her. And when they died, when the Obeah Man kidnapped them and killed them, it’s like everyone just… forgot she existed. Her boarding school no longer remembered having a Timothea Drake enrolled. The Drake Estate was sold off. Even the evidence of her existence, her room and the few pictures of her around the house, were ignored. Like the death of the last two people who cared even a little bit about her existence just untethered her from humanity.)
“I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I mean. It’s not like you can help. And you’re busy with all the stuff you do. But you seem nice. I’ve seen what you do with Young Justice. You’re heroes.”
(Following the Batfamily around had been… maybe it wasn’t normal, but it was one of the only ways she felt connected to anything anymore. Sometimes she even helped them, tripping someone here, or finding some evidence for a case and moving it to where they could find it there. Little things. It makes her feel like she’s a part of their family.
That’s how she met – well, saw Superboy. She was following Robin around when all the adults disappeared, trying to figure out what was going on and what she could do to help. She just kept following them later, when they started hanging out more often, made new friends with Arrowette and Wonder Girl and Secret. It makes her feel creepy sometimes, being this stalker/voyeur they don’t even know they have, but she can’t bring herself to stop.)
“It’s just.” Her fingernails dig into her legs. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry. “I don’t know – how much longer I can do this? Cause nobody… I mean, what’s the point? If this is the rest of my life, just… being ignored by everyone. I’m never going to graduate high school or go to college or go on a date or any of that stuff. I mean.” She sucks a breath in. No tears. “I can’t do anything. There’s no real future for me. It’s like I’m a ghost or something, except I forgot to die first.
“Anyway.” She starts shifting, getting ready to stand up. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. I just wanted to talk to – at someone for a while.” She hesitates for a moment before pressing a kiss against his cheek, a barely-there sensation that he’ll probably pass off as the breeze or a momentary itch, if he feels it at all. “Thanks. For being here.” Making herself walk away feels harder than she expected, like she’s abandoning the last scrap of hope she had left, even if it was only imaginary.
And then there’s a tug on her wrist.
“I think I missed a lot of that,” Kon says, slowly. “It’s like I’m not really hearing you, just… feeling it. But I can tell that you’re there.”
She can’t breathe, isn’t even sure how long her legs will hold her while he moves towards her. His fingers skim down her arm a little before his hand wraps around her wrist in a loose echo of his telekinetic hold.
“I know people who can help, probably. We can go see them whenever. Can people read it when you write stuff down, or – ” Kon stares down in the direction of her hand, concentrating. “You’re shaking. Are you okay?”
No. God no. She’s not okay. This is the first time in years, actual years, that someone has touched her, intentionally, because they knew she was present. She is not even slightly okay.
“Hey. You’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna figure this out.” There’s a warmth wrapping around her shoulders tentatively, sunlight and electricity, feeling out where she is before Kon follows it with his actual arm, holding her as best as he can. “Do you have a name?”
“It’s Tim. Timothea. Timothea Drake. I’m Tim.” She blurts all that out in a rush and then has to clap a hand over her mouth to force herself to shut up.
“Cool. Nice to meet you, Tim.” He grins – in her direction more than at her, but it’s lightyears ahead of where she was just ten minutes ago. “I’m Superboy. I’m going to help you.”