Work Text:
Bruce came to wake Tim, the day of his mother's funeral. He was still Batman, the cowl up: terrifying. Unmovable. It was like leaving one nightmare to enter another, the monster towering above, and yet—
“Tim, are you all right?” His voice was soft.
For the first time, Tim thought he understood how Dick must have felt that night at the circus, when Batman had swept down and enveloped him. He must have been afraid—Tim was afraid now—but at the same time, Batman was a pillar that would never falter.
“Just a dream,” Tim said. Waking was worse.