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“Show yourself”
…
“I know you’re watching me”
…
“Show yourself”
A sigh from behind him. Barely audible.
“I can see you” Tim says, not looking behind him but glancing in that direction in the reflection of the dark glass in front of him.
“How can y-“
There’s a sudden stop and then gruff laughter as she realizes what he’s doing.
Visibility coming to her form in an instant in an echo of a game they once played. So long ago. A game that ended long before Tim was even born.
“You never were one for hello’s” he muses, and isn’t sure if he’s mocking or reminiscing. Isn’t sure if his voice should be pleasant or not.
“No, I was not”
They don’t face one another. They don’t need to.
There’s silence from one and the other. Two sides of the same coin. Neither speaks for a moment as they listen to the wind howl in their ears.
Her ear twitches, the feathered tip giving her away a moment before one of the family members on the comm grunts and heads in another direction.
A gut feeling coming to fruition.
“That’s manipulative”
“So are you”
Tim hums in the back of his throat. She isn’t wrong, after all.
“Why are you here?” he asks and he isn’t sure if he’s asking for his sake or hers.
There’s a breath that seems like it was supposed to be another huff of annoyance that she can’t quite seem to manage.
“I can't help but wonder, if you could do it all again, would you?” she asks and Tim almost whirls around, anger swirling in his chest.
Because he has. Over and over again.
He’s done this so many times now that he’s straight up ignoring entire generations of people inside of his head. Somewhere, in his head, at least. Odysseus seems to be the one that takes up the most space.
But there’s something in her tone that stops him. Something that says she isn’t asking to annoy him. Something that reminds Tim of Alfred’s soft question, when he’s hurt and refusing medical attention “Are you sure?”
Would he? Do it all over again?
Tim stays quiet.
“He said yes, you know. He said he would do it all over again if he could.
And Gods are fickle. He was interesting. He was so interesting. And now, so are you”
There’s a flutter in Tim’s chest as Odysseus reacts to the flattery in her tone. But Tim forces both of them to heel when his eyes focus on the eyeless helmet that he both knows so well and doesn’t know at all.
“I can't help but wonder, what this world could be with a bit more empathy” she begins to say, begins to recite, really. "I can't help but feel like there's world where we don't have to live this way"
The soul in Tim’s chest pulls back like someone had slapped him. But Tim continues, lips numb "If that world exists, it's far beyond my borders and years. Only you can make it be"
“But if you could” she finally whispers, voice hoarse in a way that Tim knows all too well, still not looking at Tim. She feels like she already knows her answer.
They’re both too tired to fight. Tim and Odysseus. Tim assumes she is too. That’s why it’s so quiet. Even the comm in his ear has gone silent.
Less like it’s been fried and more like it’s just been turned off.
But Tim isn’t too worried. How can he be when he can see blue and purple chasing one another across rooftops a few alleys over?
"Is that what this is?” He finally asks, unable to keep the question from his lips even as Odysseus pushes him to keep silent. Like Tim’s ever listened to him without a good reason.
There’s a pang of a broken heart in his chest as the soul rebels and Tim begins to wonder…
“A mistake” Athena says, and Tim’s breath stills “Not a punishment. Not a reward. Just, a favor gone wrong. So I still can't help but wonder, Timothy Drake…I can’t help but ask:
Would you do it all over again if you could?”
Would Tim like a do-over?
Keep Jason from dying?
Give Barbara her legs back?
Give Damian the opportunity to grow up in a house that doesn’t destroy him?
Keep Kon and Bart from dying? Cassie from her grief?
The answer is at the tip of his tongue before he stops.
Because, would he give up family dinners with Jason, or case file binges with Bruce, or teaching Duke Greek?
On the other hand, would he give up the tug on his soul?
Would he be able to live without the little songs in his head that he’s never heard?
Or the muscle memory for a movement he’s never made?
The not-quite-him that finds so much peace in practicing archery with Roy?
He has his answer in a moment.
“I may be selfish” he starts, and sees her turn her head toward him, finally, her expression unseen but giving off the impression of immense grief.
“But no” he says a moment later and there’s an immediate flash of lightning to his right. There’s something like shock in his old friend’s silence as he continues.
“I wouldn’t change a thing"