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The tree sparkled in the casual living room deep within Wayne Manor, every ornament that was handmade or bought for gifts, every wonky, sideways, stupid ornament hanging proudly. The ribbons were big and bountiful, shining as they hung crookedly on the tree. The lights didn't quite match, the white strand having a colored light every few to replace a broken one. The presents under the tree weren't perfect either, they were thrown together with tape and paper, but most of with love and caring. The tags had scribbled out messily names, and the tree skirt was always crooked because of people running through the house.
The mantle that was under the large family portrait was covered in Christmas pictures from through the years along with a silver menorah with alternating light and blue candles.
There was Dick's first Christmas, he had three missing teeth as he hung upside down on the gymnastic equipment that Bruce got him as a gift. Next to it sat Jason's first Christmas, his hand was trying to block his face that was red of embarrassment as he held a first edition of Pride and Prejudice in the other hand. Then there was Damian's first Christmas at the manor, it was a photo clearly taken in secret, as Damian was alone in front of the tree, holding a tiny Alfred the cat in his arms. Cass's picture was the same as Steph's, they were wearing matching ugly Christmas sweaters for their first offical Wayne family Christmas, both of them grinning ear to ear. In the background of the picture you could see Bruce sighing heavily. Duke's picture was next to theirs, as his head was thrown back laughing as he stood in front of the newly renovated closet in his room, so he could have more room to hide his gear he always left out. Then there was Tim's picture. It wasn't from his first Christmas with the Waynes, but it was from his first as one of them. Dick had his arm thrown over his shoulder and Tim's cheeks were dusted pink as he held up a new camera.
Tim smiled as he stood in front of the mantle, staring at all of the pictures through the years, with the messy garland weaved in and out of between them all.
It was late, and snow was falling outside. It would be a white Christmas tomorrow, Tim was sure of it.
Christmas was tomorrow, but tonight? Tonight there was something that was to be done.
---
The cold bit at Tim's fingers as he walked through the snow that began dusting across the property. In the distance Tim could see Drake Manor drawing near, and with it the family plot. It was cold, one of the cold kicks that swept through Gotham like a storm, freezing and aching everyone's bones and skin. It made his scars twitch, the cold. And it made all of his old breaks ache with the echoes of pain.
His fingers felt almost frozen as they were wrapped around the two bouquets of flowers he had bought. They were cheap and bought early that day when Dick had drug him to the store to pick up more tape. Tim had thrown out all of the lilies in them, knowing his families distaste for them. The breath that exhaled from his mouth as he walked to the manor that had once been the only home he ever knew, was visible in the dark night as he walked along. In the distance from Wayne Manor, he could till hear the music filtering loudly from wherever Dick was singing it. As he walked, the warm lights that reflect sparkling on the snow from the manor slowly filtered out and gave way to the darkness.
Tim paused as he passed Drake Manor. For a moment he remembered all of the Christmases from years gone by. Christmas spent crying silently for the first Christmas he was left alone, the sobs echoing in the empty manor. Christmases spent slowly watching his parents pay people to put less and less decorations out until there was no difference of the manor on the twenty fifth of December and the middle of summer. Times spent slowly humming Christmas music to himself as he cut out snow flakes from paper and hung them from his ceiling in his room, wishing he could be like other kids. Kids who got gifts from their parents, kids who got to wake up their parents on Christmas morning, kids who didn't have to pretend like they believed in Santa for all of the other kids in class.
Christmas wasn't warm to him. Or bright.
It was cold and empty, frost biting at his fingers because the generator went out and the handy man was off until the new year.
Tearing his eyes away from the empty manor, he kept walking, snow crunching softly under his shoes. He walked through the iron wrought gate that led to the family plot. He passed by the ancestors he never knew, and family members with names he never learned. Each grave dusted with snow, and long forgotten by Gotham. If they had once had flowers, they were long gone.
Then he reached his parent's graves.
Janet Drake and Jack Drake.
Buried at different times, and doomed to leave Tim on a trip he couldn't track through their secretary.
Tim inhaled shakily, as he knelt before the headstones, placing a bouquet of flowers in front of each one. The bright flowers were stark against the snow that was quickly piling up. Tim reached out an ungloved hand, brushing away the snow, his fingers feeling the indents of each of his parent's names. His mother was buried on this day four years ago. He had stood in this same place, broken and bleeding at the edges of his soul as Bruce and Dick stood behind him, knowing his pain all too well. He had cried and sobbed on these grounds, his mother had died and his father soon to follow if the doctors were right. His mother had died and Tim had never known her.
Tim inhaled again, feeling the raw pain that never quite left and he knew never would. His mother was buried on Christmas Eve, before the city cracked open and before everything went wrong. He remembered her face like he remembered an old song he never the lyrics too. He could picture her blond hair, shining in the light, and her eyes the same shade as blue as his. Sometimes he hoped to catch a glimpse of her in the mirror, and other he would feel gutted at a gala when someone said how much he looked like her. So many people knew her, knew every crease and perfect curl on her face, and knew her laugh and her smile, all while Tim would stand there in his suit wanting to scream how unfair it was that he had known such things and they did.
He loved his mother with everything he had. Tim knew his mother loved him. Loved him like the sky and the stars, so much yet so quick to glance away and go somewhere else.
Four years.
It had been four years and the pain he felt as she was lowered into the ground was just as fresh and just as raw. It ripped and pulled inside of him, never letting up, never leaving, just a constant reminder that his mother was dead.
At least with his father, he got to say goodbye. He got to learn what he liked, and what he loved. He got to memorize his face, and his laugh. Tim got to learn everything he could about his father, and he got to see him fall in love with another woman, and got to see the love his eyes when he looked at Dana. He had gotten those precious moments with him, those memories that were soft and hard at the same time. Those memories that healed him in the dead of night after his father was buried, that smoothed the raw edges as he cried and sobbed.
Tim didn't get such memories with his mother.
She was ripped from this world, from him far too soon. And like she always did, she left Tim broken and waiting, wanting for her stay. Wanting for her to stay for him.
Tim exhaled, feeling the grief pour out of him as his breath made fog in the air. The flowers already had snow dusting on the petals. He wondered how long the flowers would last, how long it would take as they sat alone on Drake land until they rotted, forgotten and uncared for. Tim inhaled, feeling the sharp cold wind fill and empty his lungs. The hurt didn't leave, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, the hurt didn't leave.
"I figured I would find you out here," A deep voice said from behind
Tim didn't jump or stir, he had known Bruce was following him since the second Tim left the manor. The silence between them is a familiar thing, tainted with grief and far too much understanding between them. Neither of them spoke as the snow kept falling.
"She hated lilies," Tim croaked finally
Bruce hummed softly.
"I can't tell you her favorite song or her favorite food," Tim whispers, still kneeling on the cold ground, "But I know she hated lilies."
It was ironic. Tim could list a thousand things she hated. The way his hair curled at the ends towards his forehead. The way his one suit laid on his chest. Mrs. Gadder's raking voice at a gala. The cheap wine Jack was fond of. And lilies. She always hated lilies. Tim could barely make a list of the things he knew she liked. Maybe it was better that Christmas wasn't Christmas in Drake Manor. Then Tim never had to realize how little he knew of his mother so young.
Four years.
It had been four years without his mother's heart beating.
Four Christmas Eves.
Tim rose, knees soaking wet from the snow as he stepped backwards to stand next to Bruce. Tim wiped away the tears he hadn't realized were falling. He missed her. He missed her like a childhood toy he didn't even realize he lost until years later. He could picture her now, golden hair and striking blue eyes. But the memory was worn at the edges, features blurred as he tried to grasp on to it, trying to remember the details that have been worn away by time.
Bruce placed his hand on his shoulder, warmth bleeding from it as Tim leaned into the touch.
"I miss her," Tim whispers
Bruce slowly pulled him into his side and Tim let himself. The snow swirled around them, and the cold winds brushed against the flowers and graves.
"I know chum," Bruce says, voice just as quiet
Tim wondered if it ever got better. If the pain still cracked and creaked with every step he took, knowing that he was the last piece of his parents legacy that would ever walk the earth.
Tim didn't ask these questions, didn't say how the grief of his parents seems to always threaten to rip him apart by the seams. Didn't ask if it ever got better for Bruce. Didn't cry or sob like he wanted to, or break and fall into his Dad's arms. He just stood there, leaning into Bruce's side, letting the tears freeze on his face, chest rising and falling.
---
The walk back to Wayne Manor was silent but full of understanding. Tim shrugged off his coat, passing it to Bruce who smiled as he took it from him. The manor was warm and welcoming, decorations thrown everywhere and the heat running to fight off the outside cold. Tim wondered if Wayne Manor was always warmer than Drake Manor because of the love and caring that seemed to bleed from the family or because for once in his life, Tim felt known. Tim would die knowing that people knew him. Knew his favorite song and food, and know what he liked and loved. He would die and be buried and all those he loved would have good memories with him, ones that woudl help soothe the edges of grief and soften the pain as time passed. He would die known. And Tim wouldn't die like his mother. And his family would never have to feel the way he did, the grief never leaving and the soul inside him jagged and raw at the mere mention of her name.
Dick slid into the foyer in front of him wearing a horrible ugly sweater that was bright yellow and red covered in glitter and sequins with the Flash symbol right on the front lit up with lights. It was horrible. It was so Dick Grayson. It was perfect. Tim in spite of himself felt himself smile at the sight.
"Where have you been?" Dick demands grabbing Tim's arm and leading him forward, just expecting Bruce to follow
Which he did. Like Tim knew he always would.
"Doesn't matter! Jason, Cass, and Steph have teamed up against me in Christmas Monopoly and I need my favorite little brothers on my team!" Dick explains, "I've already recruited Damian. Now you Timmy will be the player that will turn the tides of this ruthless war."
Tim nods seriously as the three of them enters the casual living room.
Earlier it was empty and sparkling with light.
Now it was full of life.
Jason was angrily counting money, claiming Damian was rigging the dice. He was wearing a shirt that said 'Die Hard is a Christmas Movie', and he had a headband with reindeer antlers springing from it. Steph was blowing on a set of die to bring her luck as Cass greedily grinned, counting all of the property cards she had. They had matching Pj's on, covered in little batsignals in alternating purple and yellow. Damian was sitting with Alfred the cat on his lap, smirking at Jason. Babs was on the couch, sipping eggnog and deep in a conversation with Duke who was motioning wildly with his hands. Duke was wearing a Santa hat while Barbara was wearing a red and green elf hat, complete with fake large ears.
Dick pointed angrily at Cass, "Oh I know you didn't just buy Baltic Avenue! You knew that was the last one I needed!"
Tim let the light and life and warmth of the room seep into his soul and body.
Cass shrugged innocently, looking every bit of the angel she is, "Snooze. Lose."
Bruce squeezed his shoulder and Tim smiled up at his dad.
The ache of his parents death never left him. And the pain of his mothers passing and funeral never would. But it was moments like this, moments full of laughter and love that it lessened. It didn't leave, but instead of the hole that was carved out of him by grief, he had it filled with love.
"Merry Christmas Eve," Bruce said
Tim felt more tears prick at his eyes.
"Merry Christmas Eve Dad," Tim said
Maybe it was a trick of the lights from the tree, or maybe not. But Tim swore he saw tears in Bruce's eyes.